Is Love Enough ??

Chapter 31

Maan had to get out. He took a deep breath as he stood outside the door of the room he had just exited. It didn't help. The emotions roiling inside him were way out of hand to be controlled that easily. He needed to be alone for a while. He decided to go out but as he turned towards the stairs the loud laughter and voices coming from downstairs told him he wouldn't get past without notice. And if they tried to talk he just might snap. He didn't like the feeling of being trapped. It infuriated him. So instead of going downstairs he went in the opposite direction, going towards the terrace taking two steps at a time. Relief like he had never known coursed through him when he realized he was alone on the terrace. There was a small canopy towards one side of the open space. And Maan quickly went towards it and then behind the screen. That way even if somebody came there wouldn't bother him. He wasn't hiding. He just needed time to get a grip. He sat down on the floor with his back towards the wall and closed his eyes taking deep breaths.

'Your father is quite a Casanova I have heard,' someone said with a snicker.

'Did you know Ashok Khanna is always seen with a new girl in that new hotel he just took over,' another voice said in a harsh whisper.

'Wonder, how Rupal Khanna is so tolerant of her husband's errant ways,' a third voice, 'she is very beautiful herself, it is a pity she cannot keep her husband under control,' it said with a cluck.

'Did you learn the tricks to get beautiful girls to go out with you from your father,' another voice said mockingly, 'you should. He is a pro,' and then the voice laughed jeeringly.

'It is the same blood that runs in both father and son,' another voice, 'how can either be trusted around our daughters.'

'The whole family is the same, morally corrupt, zero values, too much money and power,' someone's voice, 'husband and wife are pretty much the same when it comes to degradation. Maybe Ashok had more conquests in his pocket than Rupal, and the children follow,' it went on.

'Poor Aryaman, I really feel sad for the boy,' another whispering voice, 'Ashok should at least be subtle in front of his kids. What values is he passing them? The boy looks lost most times, the other times he is angry,' it said.

'Hush, Rupal is here, keep your tones down, did you hear the latest about Ashok Khanna,' someone else whispering, 'this time it is a supermodel from Mumbai, the party pictures are all over the newspaper,' it said.

'What did your father teach you?' a jeering voice broke through, 'apart from being characterless of course,' and it laughed openly.

Maan opened his eyes to realize he was sweating. His breaths were ragged. The voices. Whispers. From the past. No particular event or no particular memory, random all of them. Each question, each accusation, each insinuation, he remembered all of it. Every single word. He may not remember the faces or the people who had said those words to him, maybe a few, but he remembered the words. The taunts, the jibes, the insults that had been showered on him from one and all, be it friend, be it enemy, grown up or children alike. Those words and whispers had followed him, everywhere he went, he hadn't been able to get rid of them. As he had grown towards adulthood, he had slowly learnt to lock them away. Deep in the recesses of his mind. He had been able to become a different person. Sure, everyone thought he was jaded, worse than his father since he didn't believe in the hypocrisy others liked to live day in and day out and Ashok Khanna did. It hadn't bothered him. The more people stayed away from him the better. And it had been so long since he had heard those whispers that he was in a mess now that they were freeing themselves from his tight grasp. He placed his fists over his ears to gain some measure of control. So much hurt. So much pain. And together it was all threatening to take over. He wouldn't let it win. He was stronger. He was more stubborn. Maan immediately felt the threat recede. Not overly much but just a little. Not enough for the next memory to surface. A more vivid memory this time.