Alfaaz

Chapter 15: Ijaazat

"I will speak if you allow me you psycho!" He exclaimed.

A monosyllabic oh was heard and Pushkar took that as his cue to speak, "Something is wrong with him. I'm not sure what. He's a bit restrained. In London too, he never was like this. And then today, we are all here for a movie, will follow that up with lunch and then chilling, he blankly refused stating he was tired an wanted to sleep. See he never does this." saying he turned to nudge Varun to head to the theatre, "You're free?" He asked.

Suman didn't respond. She felt something was wrong too, and she had a brief idea as to what, but she had to be sure. The sudden constriction of her heart told her it was something to be bothered about.

"Oh! Hello??" Pushkar called out, "Fell asleep or what?"

"No, I am.." She replied.

"No, I am as in you're asleep or No as I you're not free?" Pushkar worded not understanding what was up with both his friend and his brother.

"No, I am as in awake as well as free.. You need me to go home?" She asked.

He nodded, "Haan, go see what's wrong with him and keep me posted." He said heading towards the theatre. "Everyone is waiting for me, leave me a message and I will call back." Saying he disconnected the call.

Suman decided to quickly wrap up the cooking and head to Malhotra Mansion to solve the question that was begging an answer since the day Shravan had returned.

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

Walking down the garden with a hamper of goodies in her hand she heard a faint strumming. Guitar? Thought she. She knew Shravan could play a few instruments, guitar being one of them but she had only ever heard him play on live video or a recorded performance, never in person. Excitement bubbled in her as she made her way up the stairs in the direction of the music. Wait. What? She heard words, he is singing too! She paced towards the terrace where Shravan seemed to be.

The sight before her stole her breath away. She stood dumbfounded at the door of the terrace. Shravan sat on the low wall, each leg hanging on either side. Hair ruffled, a few strands romancing with his face. The sun against him, casting a wonderful colour on his bronzed skin. Skin, she whispered. It was then that she realised that his torso was naked. A pair of jeans hung low on his waist, his feet bare. As he strummed the guitar, the muscles of his back moved gloriously.

She blinked a few times to gain semblance. She saw the prominent vein of his neck stand out as he sang. He's singing. Once that registered she concentrated all her energy to hearing what it was instead of simply ogling at him. Her heart hammered in her chest. His voice was downright enchanting. Beautiful, just like you, whispered she. Oblivious, he kept playing.

Nothing goes as planned.

Everything will break.

People say goodbye.

In their own special way.

Suman gently placed the hamper on one side and leaned on the door frame. His eyes were shut and creases evident on his forehead. She would have passed it off as concentration but she knew him and something most definitely bothered him. Why is he singing about good byes?

All that you rely on

And all that you can fake