Chapter 17
'Om bhurbhuvaha swaha tatsya vitur varenyam
Bhargo devasya dheemhi dheeyo yo na prachodaya'
The priest sonorously chanted the Gayatri mantra repeatedly. The dying flames of the small fire in the havan kund flickered golden, shooting out occasional sparks. With a loud clang, the metallic doors shut on the brick walls housing the electric crematorium. Beside Khushi, Mrs. Dewan gave a muffled sob, and turned her head away from the last sight of her son's body. Standing a short distance away, Raj Bahadur conferred with Arnav in low tones. Khushi couldn't hear what they were saying. By tacit consent, Pratibha and her baby had not been allowed to attend the small cremation ceremony.
It was late evening, and the sun cast its last golden rays over the high walls of the burial ground. The dirt floor and brick walls took on the same golden hue, lending muted sepia tones to the surroundings. A few white robed priests wandered through the grounds, but the area was otherwise deserted. The priest who had performed the brief ceremony for Manish, completed his mantras and disappeared behind the building, and the small group of mourners waited for him to return, to discuss the next day's program. It had been decided that Khushi would stay back to recover the ashes, and bring them back to Mumbai after four days, while Arnav would return with Mrs. Dewan the following day, after obtaining a copy of the death certificate, and setting into motion whatever paperwork was required. Pratibha would follow when her visa was ready. As her marriage to Manish had been registered in a registrar's office in Kathmandu to ensure the legitimacy of their baby, this appeared to pose no major problems, and Raj Bahadur had promised Khushi and Arnav that he would ensure that the paperwork was dealt with as quickly as possible.
Khushi stared unseeingly at the brick building which housed the crematorium. This was the end of one phase of her life. The end of her 'marriage', brief and unsatisfactory as it had been. Also the end of a longer journey ... the relationship between her and Manish, a journey which had lasted as long as she could remember. A childhood friendship, one which had started with sibling-like rivalry and squabbles, grown to a comfortable friendship, and soured with a marriage that should never have happened.
She remembered Manish welcoming her in their college, absorbing her effortlessly and comfortably into his group of friends, without a trace of social superiority or patronage. She remembered his cheerful smile, his playful banter, his teasing, his laughter. His frequent bursts of temper, almost always followed by remorseful apologies, the panic attacks at the approach of every end semester examination, the pleas for her to support his excuses to his strict unyielding father when his results were less than satisfactory. The way the panic attacks seemed to lessen during their final year, his mood swings, his bouts of boastful confidence ... alternating with alarming troughs of despair. The sudden proposal, the even more sudden claim of 'love', which had taken her completely by surprise.
Could she have realised earlier? Early enough to prevent their marriage? Early enough to save him? Mrs. Dewan was not the only one with regrets, Khushi thought sadly. Now that Manish was gone, she could look back on those harrowing days with some detachment, and wonder ... did she fail to pick up the clues early enough? Could she have done something more to help him? To avert his tragic end?
"You couldn't have saved him, you know," Arnav said softly, and she jumped. She had been so lost in thought that she hadn't noticed he had finished his conversation with Raj, and come up close to her. His expression changed to one of concern.
"I'm sorry, Khushi, did I startle you?"
"I didn't see you," she managed. He was too close to her, too close for comfort, and lost in her thoughts about Manish, she felt uncomfortable. He seemed to have read her thoughts and answered them, which made her even more uncomfortable. It reminded her of the old Arnav, and she didn't want to remember ... not right now. She moved away slightly, putting some distance between them.
He noticed, of course, and his face hardened slightly.
"What were you and Raj discussing?" she asked him, more to change the topic than anything else. She didn't want to talk to him about Manish, didn't want to hear him blame Manish in an attempt to make her feel better. The last four months weighed heavy on her mind. She didn't know if the realisation of the truth had had an effect ... she didn't want to know what effect it had had. He had thought the worst of her, despite knowing her so well. If Raj Bahadur had not found her that particular evening, she would have walked out of Arnav's life again, and he would never have known the truth, never have changed his mind about her.
"Just the arrangements for Pratibha and the baby," he answered. He noticed the deliberate change of topic, but went along with it. "Khushi, I can stay back with you. How will you manage everything here alone ...?"
"I'm used to managing alone," she said quietly. She didn't mean it as a barb, just as a statement of fact, but he reddened.
"Don't ... feel bad. I didn't mean anything, Arnav," she said quickly. "It's the truth. I'm used to it. Besides, Raj Bahadur is here to help me, and I'd be happier if Mummy doesn't travel alone at the moment. Pratibha may be Manish's legal wife here, but my passport has his name as my husband, so getting the ashes into India will be easier for me to do. Mummy can't stay here for four days, Baba can't be left alone for so long. We really have no choice."
Her tone was even, matter of fact. Arnav nodded in reluctant agreement.
"Where do they stay in Mumbai?" he asked her, taking her by surprise. "Where do you all stay? Is there space for Pratibha there? Can I help with the arrangements there before she arrives? Things for the baby ... all that? Or will you do it when you come back?"
Khushi looked at him, her heart sinking. She hadn't thought of that at all. Her in-laws stayed in a nursing home, in a small suite. It was adequate for them, but not for Pratibha. She could continue staying at her hostel while she looked for another job, but she had to arrange for Pratibha.
"I'll do all that when I get back," she said slowly, but some of her worry must have shown in her face, because Arnav looked at her closely.
He didn't say anything though, merely nodded and went back to Raj Bahadur.
Arnav and Mrs. Dewan left early the next morning, and Khushi fought off the sudden unexpected pang of loneliness as she waved them off from the hotel door and watched their car disappear out of sight. She was used to being alone, she told herself fiercely. She had told Arnav that, and she meant it. Just because Arnav knew the truth now, it didn't change anything.
Besides, she thought forlornly, as she made her way back to her hotel room slowly, what had really changed? If Raj Bahadur hadn't fortuitously located her that particular evening two ... no, three days ago, she would have walked out of Arnav's life forever. She had resigned, she remembered ... and although in the subsequent upset of the events that followed, she had forgotten to submit a resignation letter, she had told Arnav so in no uncertain terms ... had thrown the words on his face before storming out of his office. And he would not have followed her. He would have continued to believe that she had married Manish for money, for security ... had turned down Arnav's love ... and he would have continued to hate her for it.
She hurt again, to think that he could believe such a thing of her. Of all the friends in college, he had been the closest. He claimed to love her, yet he found it so easy to believe that she was a gold digger. Not only when they were both young and immature, but even four years later. It took the meeting with Manish, and the truth to be thrust in his face, for him to change his opinion about her.
And if he could think that way about her, how deep, how true was his 'love'? Khushi loved him, she loved the man she knew he was, the man he could be. But did he really love her? Did he even know her? Could he love her, thinking she was the kind of woman he thought she was?
And could she love him, knowing what he had believed about her?
'I won't think about all this now,' she told herself firmly. There were so many things on her mind in any case, not least the twin worries of finding a new job, and a place to live for her in-laws and Pratibha. Besides, she was technically a widow, even though she didn't really feel that way. And with Manish's mother also accepting that their marriage had been a mistake, the burden of pretense had dropped.
But that didn't lessen her responsibilities towards his parents.
Arnav, and her feelings for him, would have to wait.
'Om bhurbhuvaha swaha tatsya vitur varenyam
Bhargo devasya dheemhi dheeyo yo na prachodaya'
The priest sonorously chanted the Gayatri mantra repeatedly. The dying flames of the small fire in the havan kund flickered golden, shooting out occasional sparks. With a loud clang, the metallic doors shut on the brick walls housing the electric crematorium. Beside Khushi, Mrs. Dewan gave a muffled sob, and turned her head away from the last sight of her son's body. Standing a short distance away, Raj Bahadur conferred with Arnav in low tones. Khushi couldn't hear what they were saying. By tacit consent, Pratibha and her baby had not been allowed to attend the small cremation ceremony.
It was late evening, and the sun cast its last golden rays over the high walls of the burial ground. The dirt floor and brick walls took on the same golden hue, lending muted sepia tones to the surroundings. A few white robed priests wandered through the grounds, but the area was otherwise deserted. The priest who had performed the brief ceremony for Manish, completed his mantras and disappeared behind the building, and the small group of mourners waited for him to return, to discuss the next day's program. It had been decided that Khushi would stay back to recover the ashes, and bring them back to Mumbai after four days, while Arnav would return with Mrs. Dewan the following day, after obtaining a copy of the death certificate, and setting into motion whatever paperwork was required. Pratibha would follow when her visa was ready. As her marriage to Manish had been registered in a registrar's office in Kathmandu to ensure the legitimacy of their baby, this appeared to pose no major problems, and Raj Bahadur had promised Khushi and Arnav that he would ensure that the paperwork was dealt with as quickly as possible.
Khushi stared unseeingly at the brick building which housed the crematorium. This was the end of one phase of her life. The end of her 'marriage', brief and unsatisfactory as it had been. Also the end of a longer journey ... the relationship between her and Manish, a journey which had lasted as long as she could remember. A childhood friendship, one which had started with sibling-like rivalry and squabbles, grown to a comfortable friendship, and soured with a marriage that should never have happened.
She remembered Manish welcoming her in their college, absorbing her effortlessly and comfortably into his group of friends, without a trace of social superiority or patronage. She remembered his cheerful smile, his playful banter, his teasing, his laughter. His frequent bursts of temper, almost always followed by remorseful apologies, the panic attacks at the approach of every end semester examination, the pleas for her to support his excuses to his strict unyielding father when his results were less than satisfactory. The way the panic attacks seemed to lessen during their final year, his mood swings, his bouts of boastful confidence ... alternating with alarming troughs of despair. The sudden proposal, the even more sudden claim of 'love', which had taken her completely by surprise.
Could she have realised earlier? Early enough to prevent their marriage? Early enough to save him? Mrs. Dewan was not the only one with regrets, Khushi thought sadly. Now that Manish was gone, she could look back on those harrowing days with some detachment, and wonder ... did she fail to pick up the clues early enough? Could she have done something more to help him? To avert his tragic end?
"You couldn't have saved him, you know," Arnav said softly, and she jumped. She had been so lost in thought that she hadn't noticed he had finished his conversation with Raj, and come up close to her. His expression changed to one of concern.
"I'm sorry, Khushi, did I startle you?"
"I didn't see you," she managed. He was too close to her, too close for comfort, and lost in her thoughts about Manish, she felt uncomfortable. He seemed to have read her thoughts and answered them, which made her even more uncomfortable. It reminded her of the old Arnav, and she didn't want to remember ... not right now. She moved away slightly, putting some distance between them.
He noticed, of course, and his face hardened slightly.
"What were you and Raj discussing?" she asked him, more to change the topic than anything else. She didn't want to talk to him about Manish, didn't want to hear him blame Manish in an attempt to make her feel better. The last four months weighed heavy on her mind. She didn't know if the realisation of the truth had had an effect ... she didn't want to know what effect it had had. He had thought the worst of her, despite knowing her so well. If Raj Bahadur had not found her that particular evening, she would have walked out of Arnav's life again, and he would never have known the truth, never have changed his mind about her.
"Just the arrangements for Pratibha and the baby," he answered. He noticed the deliberate change of topic, but went along with it. "Khushi, I can stay back with you. How will you manage everything here alone ...?"
"I'm used to managing alone," she said quietly. She didn't mean it as a barb, just as a statement of fact, but he reddened.
"Don't ... feel bad. I didn't mean anything, Arnav," she said quickly. "It's the truth. I'm used to it. Besides, Raj Bahadur is here to help me, and I'd be happier if Mummy doesn't travel alone at the moment. Pratibha may be Manish's legal wife here, but my passport has his name as my husband, so getting the ashes into India will be easier for me to do. Mummy can't stay here for four days, Baba can't be left alone for so long. We really have no choice."
Her tone was even, matter of fact. Arnav nodded in reluctant agreement.
"Where do they stay in Mumbai?" he asked her, taking her by surprise. "Where do you all stay? Is there space for Pratibha there? Can I help with the arrangements there before she arrives? Things for the baby ... all that? Or will you do it when you come back?"
Khushi looked at him, her heart sinking. She hadn't thought of that at all. Her in-laws stayed in a nursing home, in a small suite. It was adequate for them, but not for Pratibha. She could continue staying at her hostel while she looked for another job, but she had to arrange for Pratibha.
"I'll do all that when I get back," she said slowly, but some of her worry must have shown in her face, because Arnav looked at her closely.
He didn't say anything though, merely nodded and went back to Raj Bahadur.
*****
Arnav and Mrs. Dewan left early the next morning, and Khushi fought off the sudden unexpected pang of loneliness as she waved them off from the hotel door and watched their car disappear out of sight. She was used to being alone, she told herself fiercely. She had told Arnav that, and she meant it. Just because Arnav knew the truth now, it didn't change anything.
Besides, she thought forlornly, as she made her way back to her hotel room slowly, what had really changed? If Raj Bahadur hadn't fortuitously located her that particular evening two ... no, three days ago, she would have walked out of Arnav's life forever. She had resigned, she remembered ... and although in the subsequent upset of the events that followed, she had forgotten to submit a resignation letter, she had told Arnav so in no uncertain terms ... had thrown the words on his face before storming out of his office. And he would not have followed her. He would have continued to believe that she had married Manish for money, for security ... had turned down Arnav's love ... and he would have continued to hate her for it.
She hurt again, to think that he could believe such a thing of her. Of all the friends in college, he had been the closest. He claimed to love her, yet he found it so easy to believe that she was a gold digger. Not only when they were both young and immature, but even four years later. It took the meeting with Manish, and the truth to be thrust in his face, for him to change his opinion about her.
And if he could think that way about her, how deep, how true was his 'love'? Khushi loved him, she loved the man she knew he was, the man he could be. But did he really love her? Did he even know her? Could he love her, thinking she was the kind of woman he thought she was?
And could she love him, knowing what he had believed about her?
'I won't think about all this now,' she told herself firmly. There were so many things on her mind in any case, not least the twin worries of finding a new job, and a place to live for her in-laws and Pratibha. Besides, she was technically a widow, even though she didn't really feel that way. And with Manish's mother also accepting that their marriage had been a mistake, the burden of pretense had dropped.
But that didn't lessen her responsibilities towards his parents.
Arnav, and her feelings for him, would have to wait.
Thanks for more updates. :)
ReplyDeleteAm editing a little as I write, so it's taking longer than I thought. Next chapter up in a short while.
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