Broken

Part Twenty: Agar Mujhse Mohabbat Hai ... (Let Me Hold You)

"Hearts united in pain and sorrow
will not be separated by joy and happiness.
Bonds that are woven in sadness
are stronger than the ties of joy and pleasure.
Love that is washed by tears
will remain eternally pure and faithful."
Khalil Gibraan

Mountainview Apartments
Saturday 2 May 2017 - 8.00 pm ..cont

His heart thundered in fear and anticipation as he sat next to her, where she indicated, watching her closely.

She was clearly very nervous, her hands clutching and unclutching at the dupatta of her sari. Her anxiety frightened him. But she was still silent. Too silent.

"Ishita' his voice was gentle, a response to her obvious fragility. "You're not sick, are you? That's not it, is it? Because I...Ishita...."

"No Raman" she finally spoke. She shook her head in the negative, staring straight ahead. "Mein theek hoon." (No Raman. I'm fine)

"Phir kya baat hai Ishita? Mihika kehti hai tumhaari shaadi nahi hui. Lekin tum...kal mein ne tumhaare aankhon mein jo dekha, woh jhoot nahi tha. Kaun hai jisse tum pyar karti ho ? Kaun hai woh Ishita?"
(Then what is the matter Ishita? Mihika says you aren't married. But you....I saw honesty in your eyes last night. Who were you talking about, whom you love? Who is he Ishita?)

She continued to look straight ahead, not daring to look at him.

His heart skipped a beat as he waited for her answer. She was so beautiful.. but so sad. The pain in her eyes, the defeat in her posture. Why? What was he missing? Why had she returned to Delhi three months after they had parted? Three months after they had made love .... three months. And her parents had disowned her. And suddenly he knew, knew the answer to his questions even before he asked them. Even before she answered.

But he had to make her say it. Tears filled his eyes as he finally came to the realization of what she must have gone through. And he had been clueless. Obtuse. He thought he knew now, but he had to make her say it. He had to wipe that frozen look from her face. Had to bring her back.

"Kisse pyar karti ho Ishita?" He repeated softly.  (Who do you love Ishita?)

"Aap se " she whispered. (You)

"You love me? Toh phir jo kal kaha tha mujhse, ki Sydney mein tum kisi se mili, usse shaadi karna chahti thi, woh batane ke liye tum June mein yahan aayi thi. Ki tum ne shaadi bhi karli. Woh sab jhoot tha kya?"
(You love me? Then whatever you said yesterday, about meeting someone in Sydney, who you wanted to marry, about coming here in June to tell me about him. The fact that you married him. Were those all lies?)

"Haan" she whispered again, her voice soft as her cheeks reddened. "Jhoot tha. Mein... uss din mandir mein...mein ne toh uss din se aap ko apna sabkuch... mein kisi aur se kaise...."
(Yes, those were lies. I...that day in the temple..... you were my everything. How could I marry anyone else...)

He felt deep shame and an abiding embarrassment as the memories came flooding back. He had smeared sindoor on her forehead, and then had been relieved when she had seemed to brush it aside as inconsequential. He had had no idea of the significance of that moment for her. But he should have known. The look on her face should have told him. Subsequent events should have told him. He had been so blinded by his physical desire for her, that he had not given any thought to how and why a young woman from a traditional family, who had never once been intimate with her fiancé of ten years, had been so convinced about the righteousness of making love with him. He should have known. He should have guessed. She had been in love with him. She had accepted him as hers in that temple that day. It had not simply been physical desire on her part. She loved him. There had never been anyone else.