Obsession: The state of being obsessed with someone or something. An idea or thought that continually preoccupies or intrudes on a person's mind. THAT'S IT. I was obsessed. And the centre point of my obsession was Shravan.
My sixteenth-year self was so obsessed with nineteenth-year-old Shravan that it had become my second nature to adjust myself around him. If he moved I would move too as though I was in his gravitational force. He was the sun — the centre of my galaxy.
I had a hunch, Shravan knew about my obsession. Whenever I used to stare at him — beholding his magnificent stature, he would blush, and there would be a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Sometimes, he would look at me, with his mesmerising light brown eyes that were similar to twinkling stars, as though he was as attracted to me as I was to him.
I wanted to ask, I wanted to know if he felt the same zap of electricity when I would randomly hold his hands or place my head on his shoulders. I noticed he would stiffen for a second or two then again he would relax against me.
Shravan was a vault of emotions. One would never know what's going on in his mind. He wouldn't falter unless he was probed, he wouldn't talk unless it was necessary — and that made him more irresistible. The more he hid behind his walls, the more I felt the pull.
One evening, we decided to watch a movie. “I am not watching Harry Potter.” I announced, “I am tired of watching the same movies again and again.”
Shravan casually leaned against the couch, and my heart flipped. He was already about six feet tall and his long legs stretched in front of him. One arm lazily draped behind his head and the other playing with the remote of the TV. The blue hue on his cheeks made his face look like that of a fallen angel. He looked breathtaking. Maybe I had stood there for a long time gawking at him or he had noticed something in my face, he sat up straight abruptly, fetching a cushion on his lap.
“What do you want to see then?” Shravan's voice sounded a bit irritated as well as strangled.
I sighed, “The Notebook?” I read the book already, but I wanted to watch the film. I heard it was as good as the movie. Shravan paled a little, “You already have watched the movie, haven't you?”
Shravan sighed, “Yes, and I don't want to watch it again.” There it was. The finality. The order. Which I never liked.
“And why is that?”
“Because I said so.” He shifted uncomfortably, though his voice was relatively soft, maybe looking at my expression. “If you want you can watch while I study, just use the headphones.”
Fine. If that's what he wants! I pressed the play button whereas, Shravan went back to his study table. The film was emotional as expected, but of course, the book was more. Nicholas Sparks’s one of the best novels.
But what I forgot or didn't understand at that time, is that watching a scene reveal itself on the screen is always different from what we read in the books. What I felt reading the book was not what I was seeing on the screen. And I wanted that. I wanted to feel what Allie and Noah were feeling. More precisely I wanted to feel that with Shravan.
Shravan who was sitting on his chair, shoulders stiff. Is this the reason he didn't want to watch the film with me? Maybe because he knew me so well and the weird ideas I get while watching movies that he decided to put some physical distance between us.
“Shravan,” I sighed, “I,”
Shravan shook his head, “Whatever you want to say, stop right there. If you are done watching the film, you can,” and that's when I noticed, he could watch the reflection of the TV screen on the glass window in front of him. He understood immediately what I was about to ask.
“But, you didn't even listen to me.” I huffed.
He dismissed me, “I don't need to.”
Maybe it was my teenage hormones, or maybe it was because Shravan never denied me anything, I first felt dejected which turned into anger. I switched off the television and threw a cushion in his direction. “Fine. I'll ask someone else. It's not that you are the only one who could,” and I never got to finish that sentence.
Just like now, I didn't get to finish my angry outburst, when Shravan thundered, “I was having fun? Always ready to jump to conclusions, always judging people without asking or knowing their side of the story.” locking me in his enraged eyes, “ You knew, when you made a fool of me that if I ever cared about anyone in my life, it was you. I had to stab my heart and kill my soul, Suman, I had to die a thousand deaths, had to mourn my every breath, to forget what you did to me.” He laughed a bitter laugh, “And you know what the funniest part is? I still close my eyes every night and I still see you betraying me.”
Shravan was standing so close to me that the tip of his shiny loafers was touching the tip of my shoes. Standing on the three-inch heels I barely reach his shoulders. He took in my face, just like he did so many years ago, “I still close my eyes, and see you looking at me just like you did that night.” He slowly stepped forward compelling me to take one behind, “telling me,— no, baiting me, that you would ask someone else,” He snarled, “my biggest fear— someone else would take you away from me — playing with words, playing with my emotions,” his another menacing step made me realise I was already standing by the wall.
One side of my hips burned as he rested his hand on it, as he palmed my neck with his other hand — a slight tilt from my head and I could meet his lips, the same magnificent lips that branded me for life the moment they had touched mine all those years ago. Fierce, dominating, all-consuming yet profound. One provocation and how Shravan had exploded that night — how he unleashed all his locked emotions.
It seemed he remembered that night too, our first kiss, our first touch. No, we simply kissed that night, nothing more — nothing less. But the current we felt so many years ago still sang in our veins. For that particular moment, I forgot what he had done, how he left without wanting to know anything. All I needed was what I was craving for maybe millennia.
One touch.
And he understood immediately. Shravan's expression changed from fury to something unreadable as though he was really seeing me, for the first time after so many years. The hand around my neck slowly came to rest on my cheek. His calloused thumb caressed the soft skin like he was trying to memorise the texture of my skin — and I couldn't look away from him.
His eyes were filled with so much pain, and sorrow that it pierced my heart. Young Shravan was sad, but this Shravan who stood before me was butchered. “Shravan,” a soft sigh escaped as his thumb traced my lower lip, “I think,”
“Hey, what are you doing?!” And the connection broke. Shravan who was just looking like a man with a borrowed breath changed his expression as if a switch turned off. He looked over his shoulder still holding me captivated. Aditya was standing near the opening. “I hope you haven't lost your mind. What are you doing to her?”
Shravan, like a villain in a movie, turned to look at him as though he didn't want Aditya to look at me. His frame was rigid — ready to strike at any time. “Here comes the joker.” he bristled, “I was thinking about you. You seem to behave like Suman’s guardian angel. Come on, help the damsel in distress from me,” he chuckled dramatically, “The villain of the story.”
Aditya shook his head, “Theatrics! I guess that's your new forte. Well, congratulations, but I am not interested.” he craned his head, as Shravan didn't bother to move, “Come on, Sumo, let's go.” And Shravan whirled around as if someone had electrolyte him.
The flash of betrayal came and went in his eyes, he looked like he was about to burn the whole place down. Looking utterly disappointed, Shravan stepped aside and barreled out of the door. Without his massive height, the place seemed empty. Aditya sighed, “What happened just now? He ran away like his pants were on fire.”
Thankfully there was a chair near me and my legs finally gave in. “You called me Sumo.” I was tired beyond measure. All I wanted was to go home and hug my daughter.
Aditya sat beside me, “So? Everyone calls you Sumo.”
“It was him who gave me that nickname, Adi,” exasperated I snapped while I buried my face in my hands, “or did you forget? Don't you remember how he always reacted if someone else called me by that name?” when Aditya didn't speak, I looked at him, “what?”
He shook his head, “I don't know about then, but I hope now you understand how toxic that sounded.” He sighed, as he rammed his hand in his hair, “If I look back, I can see, he was always so possessive of you. And all that possessiveness isn't good for any relationship.”
Maybe he was right, maybe he wasn't. But somehow I still got angry if someone would merely point a finger towards Shravan. So I did what I always did the best. Change the subject. “It's all in the past. I don't want to talk about it. Sanvi is all I have. And the way Shravan reacted, I don't know — what if he decides to take away from me and,”
A cry of bravo rang out suddenly startling both Adi and me. Shravan was leaning at the door with his legs crossed, clapping deliberately. He was back, ready to wreak vengeance. “Come on, finish the sentence, Suuu-mooo,” he smiled, “Always jumping to conclusions, always thinking the worst of me.” tilting his head, Shravan looked at Aditya, and his gaze slithered towards my shoulder where Adi was holding me. The slow precision of his stare made my heart drop. I jumped on my feet, as he chuckled darkly, “Actually it's not a bad idea, you know, Suu-moo, you got Sanvi for ten years now it's my turn. By the way, did you name her thinking of me, if yes, then thank you, Sanvi Malhotra, daughter of Shravan Malhotra. It has such a ring to it, no?”
“It's Tiwari — Sanvi Tiwari.” Aditya was on his feet too, “And I think you need to tone it down, you already have made Suman cry a lot. Now that she has moved on, let's not do that again, am I clear?” Aditya took my side while I kept looking at Shravan. What he just said, if that's true then I would lose my sole reason to live. And seeing Shravan I could tell, he wasn't going to stop until he massacred my life all over again.
Shravan simply dismissed him with a wave of his hand. His focus was solely on me. “Dinner sounds good, Suu-moo? I'll be there at eight, okay?” Shravan's eyes darted between Aditya and me, he shook his head and left before I could say anything else.
***
Here I am after so many months, with another update.
Sorry, I was going through a blank phase. I knew the story, I knew the characters but I didn't know what to write.
But after a lot of tries, I finally finished it and immediately posted it. Why, because if I stopped and read it again, I wouldn't be able to post it.
So, I have no idea if there're any spelling mistakes or plot holes. Please overlook all the mistakes. And honestly tell me, if the chapter is any good.
Finally, the question I dread – when will I be updating the next chapter? Well, I'll try as soon as possible. But no promises.
For now, tada,
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Until next time
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