Palace Of Illusion

Five: If this is not love...

As soon as I look up, his eyes click onto my face. The breath whooshes out of my body and everything freezes for a second, as though I'm looking at him through my camera lens, zoomed in all the way, the world pausing for that tiny span of time between the opening and closing of the shutter.

~~ Lauren Oliver, Delirium ~~

Year 2008

"I hate first days. I hate new beginnings. I hate facing a sea of strangers, the introductions, and attention."

Khushi bit her lower lip, suppressing a chuckle as she cradled her mobile to her ear. She looked out through the tinted glass, at the buzzing vehicles. At eight in the morning, the city was wide awake, the organized life of peoples' going on through their routine soothing her own nervousness as her friend ranted about the first days. It was not like the day had spurred on them without any formal warning. They had, in fact, the whole summer to prep themselves for this day. That, and Khushi had been anticipating for so long to be a rightful part of the University she had decided a couple of months now was enough to look forward.

"It would have helped if we were together," Aadhya carried on with her ranting, "but no, Royal Highness has to go, build homes for hobos. Giving shape to concrete and bricks isn't going to solve world's problems, Khushi."

Khushi rolled her eyes. This had been the only thing Aadhya seemed to be interested in ever since they filled their applications, even though every person who knew Khushi knew, as a rule, what her interest as a career was. To know a fact for years and yet surprised or taken back when the moment of official acceptance was a feat only Raizada siblings were able to pull. First, Aadhya was disappointed to an extent Khushi herself thought, at one point, to give up her chance to fulfill her dreams and accompany her best friend. Then, Anuj visibly shuddered in horror that she, even after endless torture by Shobna Bua – as he exclaimed – went ahead and ruined her life, spending the rest of her life getting dirt, figuratively, on her hands.

"As if fairy tales and prince charming and their horses are going to solve them," Khushi countered with a smug smile, her eyes drifting from the buzzing outside to her right wrist, and stayed there, on the platinum band now rested there, the only source of warmth she seeks whenever she felt lost or distressed, other than from her grandfather. "Do you even see buildings, Aadhya?" She asked, unaware of the intensity as she spoke with passion, "is there one thing you can differentiate between two buildings? Houses of two individual persons? A pile of bricks and concrete don't make a house, a home. I want to design homes, not houses – I want to design something that speaks for itself, and for the people it is designed for. I want it to speak with its residents..."

"For the love of my sanity, stop it." Aadhya shuddered, like she did every time Khushi started to reason with her choice of profession. "I get it, you love building houses, and I love creating chemistry. Acha, why don't we rent a flat together? You can design for my characters. Also, that would show you why a bachelor's degree in English Lit is better than Architecture."

This was another thing that Khushi was confused about – whether the affection the Raizada siblings extended was a good thing, or a bad thing. There was this girl who literally waltzes her way to every person's heart she met, and then there was Anuj who managed her ever-determined-and-crazy Bua in allowing Varun to live on his own. Then again, Khushi sighed dejectedly, contradicting this nature was their eldest brother and his conscious effort to keep his distance from her.

Khushi shifted uncomfortably, cradling her mobile in the crook of her neck, eyes fixed on the platinum band as a finger traced its perimeter – the only reminder of him and the assurance it brought with it, that he thought about her. That, however, lasted no longer than a blink of an eye. There was no phone call or personal wishes on her birthday. There was no picking and dropping her to his Bua's office as they were used to. Except for a slight nod of his head or raising his glass in silent acknowledgment that seemed to be reserved only for her during their brief encounters in the past Eight months following that fateful night where they had their midnight dinner and heartfelt conversation, there was not even a word of exchange if not warranted by an audience and where pleasantries were unavoidable. It was like they were complete strangers. But it was worse, Khushi thought with a sinking feeling, as she realized that it was not avoidance on his part, just indifference.