Vikrant came home early today. It had been three weeks since he had come back and now more or less he has his own routine and understanding of business. Rana's owned vast amounts of land which they rented out for agricultural purposes, owned three textile mills and two heritage hotels in partnership with Shekhawats as well. Then his father had started a charitable trust in the name of Late Virat Rana, which needed looking after too. Vikrant had decided to work out of an office which he had set up at one of their hotels. Today was a slow day with not much work to do, so he had headed home earlier than usual.
As he entered his room he found Tara arranging his wardrobe. Taken aback, that was what he was at the sight. His clothes and everything else was well taken care of but he assumed servants were doing it. He had no idea Tara herself took care of his stuff. And he disliked the fact immediately. She must be doing it as a part of her duty as the daughter-in-law of the house or Maa sa must have forced her to do it. Shekhawat princess would not go around folding laundry and that too in a house full of servants. Especially for him. She had been tip-toeing around him for the entire time he was here. Not talking to him unless they were in front of Maa sa or Baapu sa. Even then she kept it minimal. He sometimes wondered if they would spend their whole lives like this. Would they? Could they?
'Leave it. I'll do it. Where is Bhairo Singh? Isn't he supposed to do all this work?' he moved and took the stack of clothes from her hand.
'Y...you? When did you come?' she was caught unawares.
'Just now,' he gave a curt reply as he took over what she was doing.
'I'll do it... properly,' she stretched her hands to take the stack back. She liked doing all this for him now.
'No need. Why bother about the clothes when you don't bother about their owner? Go,' he spat. The anguish pent up inside, itching to come out since long, found words at last.
'Why are you talking like this?' she spoke hurt.
'Of course. I forgot me opening my mouth and saying what I feel disgusts you. My bad. Sorry,' his jaw clenched.
'Vikrant,' she gasped.
'Oh so you remember my name,' he threw the rest of the stack on the bed nearby and turned towards her.
'You...you are...my...husband Vikrant,' she stammered.
'You remember that too. WOW!' he mocked in anger.
'Please Vikrant,' she pleaded not knowing what she was pleading for.
'Vikrant JI. Like wives call their husbands in this house. LIKE you addressed bhai. Remember?' he pointedly reminded.
'You are... younger to me Vikrant,' she mumbled embarrassed.
'Oh how can we forget THAT?' his eyes were spitting fire. 'Isn't that the reason why my love was so disgustingly unacceptable to you? Because I am younger to you. GUESS WHAT? You're stuck with this younger man as your husband for life!' he grabbed her arm to drive his point home.
'I was betrothed to your brother when you said you love me,' she countered pained.
'Did I ask you to leave bhai? Did I ask you to marry me? NO. I did not even come to you. It was YOU who came into my room behind my back. It was YOU who read my diary without my permission. It was YOU who brought the topic up and it was YOU who had slapped me,' he bellowed before pushing her away and leaving the room in a huff.
She trembled seeing his rage. She had never seen Vikrant so angry. He was the easygoing one. Even when they had fought after getting married where she had accused him of a foul play to eliminate his own brother from his path to GET her, not even then was he so furious. He had tried to argue for his innocence but she was beyond listening to that night. That night had played in her mind a thousand times in last two years. She remembers him telling her again and again that his Virat bhai's accident was a freak one. He was crossing the road in front of marriage hall and a drunken truck driver hit him. That it was her father who had proposed his name for marriage so that his daughter does not get tagged inauspicious. He TOO did not want to get married a few hours after losing his only brother. That he did it all so that two families can stay friends and the business relationship does not crumble down either. That he loved his brother more than he can express. She remembers all of it. If only she had heard it then.
But why would Tara Shekhawat listen? Why would she see that he was equally innocent in the game destiny had played with them? She had lost her fiancé and was asked to marry his younger brother who she knew harbored romantic feelings for her. That was more than enough for her to dump all the blame on Vikrant who was battling with much more profound loss than her at that moment.
And how would she see when she was SO blind that she never noticed until she started living in this room among Vikrant's stuff that the handwriting in which those love poems were written was not Virat's. It was Vikrant's. When she never stopped to think that it was Vikrant who knew her favorite flowers of different seasons, not Virat. That it was Vikrant who knew of her secret hideouts in this haveli, not Virat. She never gave it a thought how Virat would reach those places to flirt with her when she was alone. Lost in her own world she never gave it even a single thought. That it was Vikrant who was helping his brother in wooing her in spite of loving her so much. He was playing cupid for them while dying inside every day. She had just read his love confession in his diary one day and had pounced on him. Accused him of being an immature immoral and good-for-nothing friend and a brother. Taunted him to behave according to his age. Even slapped him.
His fault was that he was nice to her. His fault was that he loved her. His fault was that their parents chose his brother to be her groom in spite of it being him who was her fast friend. His fault was that he was younger than her. In society's eyes, in her eyes, he never stood a chance. She had never dreamt of a man younger than herself as her prince charming. In no fairy tale romance does a princess marry a man younger to her. And hers HAD to be a fairy tale life like always, right? And it was. Vikrant's uncalled for feelings were nothing but a roadblock in it. How conveniently she ignored that this younger man only saved her from a life of misery. That all he did that night was uphold her and her parents respect in the society like a true knight in shining armor. And how did she repay him? She dies some more every time she recalls what all filthy things she had yelled at him and accused him of on the wedding night. Tara heaped down on the floor sobbing bitterly. She does not deserve him. She just does not deserve him.
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When the maid informed Vikrant who was working sitting in the living room that she cannot find bindni sa to tell her that lunch has been prepared, he pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. It was Sunday and he was at home. His parents were out of station for a wedding in extended family for a week. If he had thought that being alone in the house with her would change their equation somewhat, that she would have to talk to him without the shield of Maa sa and bapu sa, he could not have been more wrong. The girl was stubborn to the core. Without an elder to oversee them, she was avoiding him like plague since last three days. They might as well be stark strangers considering the number of time they see each other or talk to each other every day. One and a half months he had been home and she still refuses to behave any differently than she behaved on his first day back here. He was getting more irritated by her behavior each passing day.
This is Ranakgarh, not a big city like Delhi or Mumbai where if a husband and wife behave like strangers nobody notices. And if notices, nobody says anything. Tongues will start wagging soon. Who knows, might have started already. In fact, his own parents would expect them to put the tragedy behind and move on with their married life. And Virat bhai was their first born for crying out loud. But Tara thinks that she is the only well-wisher of Virat bhai in this whole world. Looks like she has decided to mourn him all her life. And he will have to do the same for he was the lucky one married to her. No consideration of anybody's feeling this girl has, except her own. He might be younger than her but she definitely takes the cake for being immature. He stood up dismissing the maid to go and find his self-professed mature wife who must be hiding like a kid in one of her hideouts in the haveli.
After looking at a few places without success, he found her sitting in the shade of a tree in the guava grove at the extreme end of the haveli premises. It was a secluded corner for nobody went there other than the servants in guava season to reap the fruits for the family. She was making quite a picture sitting there with her back resting against the bark of a guava tree. Looked like she ran here just after her bath as her hair which was pulled onto one shoulder, were still damp and curly. Dressed in olive green ghaghra choli, her midriff was bare as her red chunri had gotten untucked and had slid away to one side. She once again took his breath away. With quite some effort Vikrant pulled himself out of his blatant staring session and approached her to reproach her for her irresponsible behavior. But when he saw what it was in her hands, his blood out right boiled in his veins.
It was the love letters which were his brother had written to her. Apparently, that is. He remembered penning each one of them at Virat bhai's request with a small part of him dying with each syllable. He loved Tara since when he did not know. While playing with her, while growing up with her, while laughing with her it just happened. But he knew Tara was supposed to marry his bhai and hence kept quiet. Accepted his fate with difficulty but gracefully. All he could do was to be a good brother, a good friend, for his love was meant to be unrequited. Then and now, both times it seems. He had no right to complain then, but today a storm gathered in his silent eyes as his heart howled in pain. She will always love bhai. Even when she is his wife, she will not love him. He could not keep jealousy that stung his heart at bay today. Is he so goddamn despicable? His patience snapped. He strode in fury and snatched the letters she was reading so lovingly out of her hands, startling her.
'Remembering bhai are we?' he spat like a betrayed lover.
'Vikrant...Ji,' she instantly got up fixing her chunri, looking at his angry face.
He realized in that moment that he loved being addressed as Vikrantji by this woman, and hated it at the same time if that was somehow possible.
'I...I was coming inside in a few minutes,' she explained voluntarily.
'Of course, you were. After you were finished reading these pretty love letters of yours,' he waved them furiously in her face.
Her eyes scrunched shut on their own due to furious movement of papers in front of them.
Frustrated and hurt, Vikrant turned away from her. Running a desperate hand through his raven black mass of hair, he prayed for sanity. For respite. Enough was enough, he decided. He'll tell her the truth today. Turning back to face her he growled 'Do you know that these letters and these poems were not even written by bhai. They were written...'
'...by you. I know,' he was cut off mid-tirade by her determined whisper.
It was his turn to be startled.
'WHAT?' he blurted.
'I know you wrote them, not your brother,' she repeated looking down.
Vikrant stared at her confused. She was making no sense to him right now. She knew? Since when? Did bhai know that she knew? How the hell did she know?
As if reading his face she explained 'It's your handwriting. There are a lot of your college notes in your room. I made the connection quite a while ago.'
'How long ago?' he asked after a few seconds.
'A year and a half,' she replied softly but surely.
'And you are still reading them knowing that it was me and not bhai? You did not tear them?' he asked incredulously.
She did not say anything. With her head bowed, she kept making patterns with her toe on the soil of the grove.
Just then something occurred to Vikrant. 'Look I did not do all this on my own will. Bhai requested me to write them because I was good with literature and writing. I did not meddle in your business. Okay?' he clarified.
Her head jerked up as pain flashed in her beautiful eyes. 'I did not say that,' she replied.
'You are not angry. You have not disposed of these offensive things that I wrote. You are not accusing me. What is going on? Am I missing something?' he asked bewildered.
Her lashes lowered again. How to tell this man what is going on in her heart since so long?
'Tara I am asking you. You're not angry that the man you hated wrote love letters to you whatever be the reason? What happened to you? Why are you so quiet? You're not freaking behaving like yourself since I've come back. Does anyone say anything to you in the house? Regarding bhai? Or our marriage? Taunts you? Maa sa? Baapu sa? You don't have to be afraid. Tell me. You can tell me. I'll make everything right' he looked into her eyes. He knew his parents loved her like their own daughter but the concern for her overtook every other thought in his mind.
The very next second, startling and staggering him, Tara threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. Sobbing she kept chanting 'I don't hate you'.
Vikrant gulped. Of all things he said this was what she heard? And if that was not enough, having her in his arms was a beloved lifelong dream coming true. Her soft body nestled in his hard one. Her fragrant hair playing havoc with his senses. Her warm breath fanning his chest. He would not regret if he dies this very moment. But mustering every ounce of self-control, he clutched her shoulders and separated her from himself. Bending a little to look at her face he asked again 'Tell me, Tara. What happened?'
Hiccupping she shook her head and clung to him again. This time throwing her hands around his waist. Vikrant too gave up controlling himself. He wrapped his arms around her securing her close and buried his face in her hair. If it is just for this moment that he will get to hold her close, then he wanted to make the most of it. Savor it. It was quite sometime later that Tara spoke again. And had her face not been in contact with his chest, he would have missed that she even opened her mouth for it was almost inaudible. 'I was reading those letters because you wrote them. Not in spite of it'.
Vikrant's breath hitched. A sudden heaviness clogged in his throat. His arms tightened around her in their own accord. He did not know what to say. Did he hear her correctly? 'What did you say?' he tried to confirm.
'I read these letters whenever I miss you,' she confessed with her face still buried in his chest.
'YOU MISS ME?' he blurted holding her shoulders again and forcing her to look up in his face. The disbelief was clearly written all over it.
Tara's cheeks flamed red. God, what is the need to yell it like this? She immediately left him and turned away shying furiously.
But Vikrant walked around and stood in front of her again in a jiffy. 'Did you miss me, Tara?' he asked with hope bubbling in his heart.
She smiled softly still avoiding looking into his eyes. And the nod that accompanied it was too imperceptible. But he did not miss it for his whole being was concentrated on her face right now. The tons of weight, that he was carrying around in his heart for so long that it had become an integral part of his existence, suddenly left him leaving him light-headed. He reached out for tree trunk in the vicinity to hold himself straight.
'You...you don't think that I...that...I..killed bhai?' he asked almost afraid of her answer.
And there she was again the very next second. Dashing into his arms. In a snap. Third time in last fifteen minutes. Not that he was counting. Or complaining. The unending apology, the guilt-ridden explanation, the shameful remorse that followed left Vikrant baffled, yet content. His name was clear. She did not think ill of him!!! He could live again.
'..... and I did not know how to tell you that I knew. Sorry is such a small word after what all I have accused you of. Let alone be a good wife, I haven't even been a good friend to you. I have made you miserable and I would understand if you would hate me. You have all the right to hate me. I have been nothing but judgmental and selfish with you. All my life. I am not a ......' she kept blabbering and hiccupping while Vikrant kept brushing off the fat tears that kept rolling off her eyes constantly and kept mumbling his acceptance of her apology which took a long while to sink into Tara's mind. And even more time to sink into her heart.
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Tara and Vikrant, both laid side by side on their bed looking at the ceiling, immersed in thoughts. It's been a full day since their kind-of-reconciliation at the guava grove. If servants found their young master and his wife behaving differently, they did not make it apparent. With everything else cleared between them, there was a huge gap left in their relationship which needed to the bridged. Friendship could have been a good thing to bridge it with, but unknown to each other, both their hearts had left that post behind long ago. So no one even mentioned it.
Tara had realized that no matter how nice Virat was, he had never met the real Tara. She behaved in a certain manner with him. A behavior that was guaranteed to bring acceptance for her as a wife and a daughter-in-law of Ranas. She was not the docile blushing girl that Virat knew. In fact, Virat never knew the real Tara, not that it was his fault. It was hers. But in her defense, she was trying to love him and make him fall in love with her as he was her betrothed. But Vikrant, she had fallen in love with him without trying or knowing that she is falling so hard for him. While Virat was her parent's choice, Vikrant was God's choice for her. He knew her inside out and accepted her without any qualms. But did he accept her as his wife?
Vikrant did not know how to proceed in this relationship now. Going by her apologies and her recent behavior it seemed that Tara was okay with him. In fact happy with him, but that was it. Did she love him? Or was it just his friendship that she was seeking still? Had it not been his own brother who had been her ex-fiancé, he would have been more forthcoming with his stand on their relationship. But here, he runs the risk of not only alienating Tara if he desires her to be his wife in the true sense, but also of insulting his brother's memories. But what about his love? He loves this woman with his every fiber. Always had. He was going insane and yet was not arriving at any conclusion. Should he ask her?
'Tara,' Vikrant decided to speak up. What will happen at the most? She'll say no. He steeled his heart for that rather than waste any more time swinging in uncertainties.
'Hmmm?'
'Do you think you can love me someday?' he asked. 'A little?' he added hesitantly.
She turned her head on the pillow and looked at him. 'No,' she replied after a few seconds.
'Oh'.
'Because I already love you. A lot,' she was looking at the ceiling again.
'What?' he sat up.
'You heard me,' she smiled.
The hug that followed could not have been fiercer. The kisses that rained could not have been more desperate. The look in his eyes could not have been any more intense. His hold on her could not have been any more possessive. Vikrant refused to let go of his startled wife. She writhed reflexively caged in his strong arms before her body, and more so her heart betrayed her.
'Does that ... mean you accept .... me .... as your wife?' she asked breathlessly in between his assault.
He did not say anything. Too happy and too busy to speak, he proceeded to answer her in the way only a husband can tell his wife how much he loves her. In the age-old way.
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