"He knew he was in love with her when her tears became the reason for his agony; when her smile became his responsibility."
***
The warmth that enveloped her melted into each nook of her body, dissipating the anguish of her soul into a mystical mellow, she had never known. The arms around her back felt stronger than anything as all her senses withered into emptiness. Nandini had been in the arms of him many times, yet this time, something felt unusual. There was something so warm in his arms, yet the frozen emotions spoke differently, there was something so right yet something that howled wrong. Something known, yet many things, unknown.
She let her body slack under the feel of the unsought warmth, her arms losing her hold on the rigid body flush against her, falling limp by her sides, as her eyes slowly opened, coming to meet a broad chest the next following moment. Suddenly, something caught up in the web of her senses. His smell. Why did it felt different? He never smelt such as that. He never smelt of woods, the warm flavour in him along with the distinct cedarwood tingled her senses as a prominent frown etched upon her face.
Nandini titled her head back, a little but then, looked down, afraid of looking at the man she, disgustingly crashed into. Her tired arms moved up until they reached the broad muscles around his torso, her palms flat against the sky-blue shirt. He was never this broad, Nandini thought, fear illuminating her dark, oblivious soul. Hesitantly, not wanting him to fade away with her dreams, Nandini lifted her gaze.
She gasped. Tushar, she mumbled.
No, no, no! What had she done? How could she? How could she not realise it was him, and not her love? That it was always him. How did she dare to hold onto him? She was never this desperate, then why? Contempt surged through her sanity as she shook her head, repeatedly as if trying to bring herself to believe it was only him.
She pushed herself from his warmth, her face red with anger on herself or humiliation, she knew not. Her hands shivered with the hate that unleashed through her depths. She watched as the man before her, Tushar stepped back, a guilty realisation tugged him back to reality, and his eyes widened, ever so slightly. His lips pulled into a thin line. The next second, however, Nandini glared at him as his mouth opened and then again, as if not believing the situation, he nipped on his bottom lip.
His confused stare roamed through the paths beneath the depths of her eyes, trying to understand her feelings. He stepped forward, his right hand pushing towards her as if in an attempt to comfort or push her, she knew not, but before his fingers touched her own, her hand yanked up and the next coming moment, her palms that, just minutes ago laid over his chest, came in a harsh contact with his left cheek, and the sound of her palms hitting his flesh echoed throughout the room, brushing the silent air around them with hurt and hatred.
Tushar remained before her, his face, unnoticeable to him, slightly was tilted to the right, as if the force of her slap shook him. His calm expression and his thin lips, and the way there was a tightness in his jaw, named his anonymous feelings she did not bother to read. Nandini saw the way his eyes never looked away from her eyes and a burning sensation of resentment brewed inside her with his straight gaze.
She took a step back, her fingers releasing from the tight fist. "You–" she began, her voice coming out in between the heavy puffs of breath she took, harsh yet low to her own ears. "Why, why had you allowed me to be–to come–" she gulped, her fingers again yet folding into another fist, "–near you?" The last part, however, came out in a note, lower than before, in a breathy mumble, as she felt the growing heaviness in her heart as ripped it apart, the hatred clawing at her tone, not unnoticed by him.
A wicked silence fell over them. Her eyes wide, looked down. Something felt so wrong, but what was it? She could never discern. She had wronged him. How could she let her weak heart decide for her reality? How could she let herself do such a thing? It had been such a long time since she had been this close to someone, then what seemed different now? How could Tushar approve of her being in such closeness to him?
Deliberately, when she heard no response from Tushar, Nandini tilted her head back, raising her sight until they meet his scrutiny and an inaudible gasp left her. Tushar still stood there, just two steps ahead of her, his eyes void of any known emotion, his jaw tightened and as she traced her gaze down to his neck, the prominent veins in the sides caught her attention.
He was angry?
"You–" she breathed out, her voice wobbling with bitterness or pain, she could never understand.
Nandini, however, was stopped when his eyes dropped to the floor. "Please, leave," he said faintly, his expressions revealing nothing much more than the vulnerability he kept.
And, without another glance, or any more word, Nandini ran up the stairs, never looking back.
***
The day bloomed into another gloomy one, the dull rays of the mysterious sun painted her honey skin with an unhappy shade, the rueful winds swam around her, caressing her with a pinch of burning remorse, the little shrubs danced around her; oh, they moved, choreographed by the wind, in flawless time with each other. They were the life and soul of this early summer dawn, as their hues brought unknown feelings to the woman witnessing their amour.
Nandini stood by the window to the living room, her eyes, unemotional, gazing at the yard, the open glass-panes inviting the gusts which tickled her neck, the little tendrils loosening with the force the winds pulled upon her, her hands shook unbeknownst to her, and a heaviness reigned over her heart.
It was a Sunday. He must be home, Nandini thought. She shook her head, she must not think about him, and after whatever she did... But, what did she do? Did she confide in a crime? She hadn't done anything, naught she could remember. It was just a...slap! Yes, a slap that he never deserved. She couldn't tell why she reacted like that two nights ago, but...being in the presence of another man, being in the reality, she couldn't...couldn't make herself believe he was no more.
Nevertheless, that night she couldn't sleep, albeit she couldn't sleep since that day, properly, but whatever the reason had been, she didn't sleep, not at all, not for a few minutes. There was a feeling that kept her awake, maybe that weird tingle in her right hand? There was something, something weird she could point out. The heaviness in her chest, no matter how hard she tried to gulp it away never did leave her, and the way her sanity trembled whenever she, knowingly or not, passed by his room. She hadn't seen Tushar after whatever transpired between her, or because of her. He would come to knock at the door, and when she refused to answer, he would leave her. Moments hence, Nandini would reach the kitchen where a covered plate would await her.
Nandini was remorseful. Never mind, how hard she tried to free herself of the guilt, something in her stopped her, always. She knew she was wrong, that he hadn't initiate anything. It was her, her who went near him, her who was mindless of her acts. It was her. It always had been.
Nandini never apologised for the way she had been behaving with her parents, mum and heartless, but Tushar... Tushar helped her. He did. He, even if she didn't want, brought her back to see this world again. Tushar married her, when no one else wanted it, albeit she didn't know the reason. Tushar introduced her to this house she had visited once upon a time, gave her the serenity she had wished for, he never questioned her, nor did he ever ask for her reasons, her feelings. And, he did not deserve it.
She was guilty, she had been regretful and till now, she couldn't do anything about it. Nandini felt her sight go blurry, her chest pushed up, and then lowered, her breathing wobbled. She blinked, struggling with the tears that gathered in her eyes, her right hand trembled as it reached her heart, her clammy palm resting above her left bosom, feeling the quickened beating of her heart.
Wiping her eyes with the back of her left hand, Nandini turned to take a look at the wall clock. It was nine in the morning. Tushar was upstairs, she knew that. It was Sunday and she hadn't seen anyone working on that day. Every day, he would bring her meal before going to his office, around eight or sometimes earlier and today, she had nothing. Although Nandini wasn't hungry, she knew, if he was here, he hadn't eaten anything, too.
Gulping away the remorse that drowned her since the beginning of that night, Nandini walked up to the kitchen. Maybe...just maybe, this time she could control her emotions, better? Maybe, she could release herself from the known feelings this time? And maybe, maybe she could ask for forgiveness? Or maybe, she should just go back to her usual self, pulling herself down to the emptiness she had created for herself.
***
Nandini waited outside the mahogany door, the deeper shade of brown seemed to intimidate her, anyhow. Her right hand held the grey coloured tray with a plate of luchi and dum aloo. She hadn't forgotten to prepare it, for it was easy and the first dish she ever cooked. Being a traditional Bengali man, Nandini concluded he would like this food. She was confident with the way the dish came out, but there was no confidence to approach him. As her left hand remained in the air, just centimetres away from touching the door, Nandini knew not how to do this all. This was the first time she was being this nervous, and she hated it.
She hated showing her feelings.
She, nevertheless, knocked. Her lips felt suddenly dry and her hand holding the tray trembled, making her left hand instantaneously holding the other side, another puff of heavy breath left her. Oh, how should I do this? Nandini cried out, inwardly. Something in her being near him made her uncomfortable. She did not want that. Not now, and never.
Clenching her teeth, wetting her dried bottom lip, Nandini knocked. Once, twice and then stopped to collect her jagged breath. Moments hence, almost the next minute, Nandini heard a faint hum. Maybe she should go inside, she tried to remember if he said anything else. Masking her facial gestures well, eyes straight, Nandini opened the door.
The room was dimly lit, almost dark enough to not realise the time, as the curtains were not pulled to the side. Nandini had never seen his room, not before too. When she was a teenager, fifteen to be correct, she never made any type of connection with her teacher's son. She was too shy for such brave actions and he was too busy in his studies to ever start a conversation. She had almost seen every room in her teacher's house except for Tushar's and the rooms in the corner of the main hall. Now, that she saw it for the first time, she couldn't help but frown.
It was not like the other rooms, nor was it extra lavish, but definitely modern and elegant. The bed to the left of the room, with a small off-white table beside the bed, the nightstand, with a book and an alarm clock and a lamp seemed posh, the balcony to the north, the navy blue curtains adding to the beauty of the ice-blue walls, the dark, wooden wardrobe to the right, along with another table near it, with a bookshelf adorning the wall, a fairly sized deep blue couch accentuated the theme of the room. A dressing table almost near the other door that might have been the bathroom. All those fair items brought a sensation of surprise to her. She knew Tushar had good choices, since the room she was living in, was also beautiful, but this seemed so good, she could say no word more.
It was the pressure in her hand that she realised what she had actually come for. Sighing, Nandini noticed Tushar standing near the balcony sliding door with small glass panes. She was so engrossed in noticing the features of his room that she forgot to notice him. Lowering her gaze, Nandini, with hesitant limbs, stepped towards him.
When at a good distance from him, Nandini cleared her throat, as though she wished to clear up her own mind, as though she was fearful. "I–" she began, biting her lip, before releasing a deep breath and starting again, "uh–I thought, uh, I-I should bring you–breakfast?" She was embarrassed with the way her words came off, or the way she wasn't too complacent, as if it was a question she asked.
Albeit she wished not to interpret his emotions, she, somehow unknown to her, did notice the way he stared at her, a visible frown on his face made her cower away with the guilt she carried. He stepped towards her, two steps, and then halted, his adam's apple bobbed up and down, as if he had gulped, harshly. His gently thick brows remained straight as his dark gaze swept over the woman clad in a white dress. Seconds later, he tried to put on a simple tight-lipped smile, as if especially trying to show his appreciation.
Nandini shrugged, nearly going unnoticed by him as she stepped towards the wooden, black table. Bending down, her left hand reached ahead to push the files away to make space for the tray, and set it there, with a sharp 'thud' of the way the platter made contact with the wooden surface. Her eyes hastily glanced at the brown leather book, or a diary precisely, that stayed tucked away in a corner, beneath two blue files. She didn't linger by the table, leaning towards it for more than two seconds, nor did she make any more notice to that diary.
When a curly strand fell over her cheek and her left forefinger hurriedly rushed to push it back, she noticed legs. The black joggers clad manly, fairly lean legs came into her vision and she gulped. Tushar. He was nearer to her, and somehow...her heart felt much heavier.
Blinking a couple of times to clear her sight of the contrition that blackened her intuition, Nandini jumped away from him, a pleasant sound of her anklets resonated through the silent room.
With naught but another glance back at the man who never averted his eyes off her, Nandini strode to the end of the room, the door. With each step, she took away from him, her sanity taunted her for not being enough brave to accept her wrongdoing, her heart... Oh, it lurched painfully with the growing heaviness. She knew she should apologise, she should, at least, consider what she did was wrong.
Her trembling fingers wrapped around the doorknob, prepared to pull it open, but she couldn't. Taking a deep breath in, questioning herself if she should or not, for the future possible occurrences between them, perplexed beyond her knowledge, Nandini tried to lessen the weird feelings of the known guilt deep belonging inside her.
"Tushar?" She mumbled, a low note of the melody of remorse drifted far away to the end of the space, bringing in a true emotion of something to him.
"If you could, just today, please, forgive me."
And just as the way that pleasant chham chham of her payal left the valley of something in his perception, they fluttered towards the path of nothingness that pursued.
And there remained Tushar, with a darling token of her sweet sorry caged behind his broken heart.
***
–GLOSSARY–
* Luchi-aloo•dum – Luchi is a deep-fried flatbread, made of flour (maida). Almost like poori in North-Indian states. The Bengali Aloo dum is a lightly spiced and slightly sweet potato curry. Mainly this combination is the traditional breakfast of Bengalis.
* Payal - anklet.