Chapter NOT edited.
Started Typing On - 07/04/2019
Chapter 105- Meeting Family
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Jaanvi's Pov:
"Meet your stupid daughters Iaa." Iaa because papa calls Mumma Iaa. I'm not trying to take her right away or make papa feel bad but I because my sons and mothers name sounds the same, with only one letter difference I ask him to call him 'Iaa,' maybe this Iaa would also bring a smile on his face like Mumma does till date.
I let my lips touch each other so I don't end up crying. My eyes just wanted to see one person, so I asked Dhruv to drive me to the Ahuja house before I went to my real house after being wedded. Papa stood there with his white shirt and black pants, he's always been a stick-skinny man but something about his dull face and under eye bags told me something was wrong. His hair looked a little longer than he likes and his shoes were worn inside the house which doesn't really happen often.
I shook my smile away and just stare at his face. They say eyes are the open gates to the soul. For the first time I wanted to read his soul and understand what was going on. Have I missed something in this one year? Was I a bad daughter for leaving him? The tip of my now non-pregnant stomach felt like it was held by people trying to crush it with their fingers and break through my skin. This silence and shocked stare was sending me into a bad place.
"Iaa" He repeats looking down at his only grandson. It makes me happy knowing his love would always be for my children only. The day I gave birth to Ishaan I thought papa was there. He wasn't. He wasn't even aware that I was in labour. While I cried in New York for him he was probably at home drinking and doing his work.
"Where is papa? Where did he go?" I break the kiss and look around the room to spot papa somewhere but he wasn't anywhere near.
"Jaan, he--" Kiaan started but paused looking down at my empty hand. Ishaan was sleeping on the little crib next to my bed after drinking some milk. I cupped Kiaan's face to bring his eyes on me, it did work. "He was never here." I remove my shaky hands away from him.
"H-h-he was. I-I he-heard him." Kiaan holds onto my shoulders to stop me from getting up from the bed to find my father. He gives my shoulders a gentle squeeze
"He was never here. I asked the nurse to cover your eye so you don't catch me mimicking papa or it wouldn't have worked." He saw how I didn't believe him and looked away, trying to spot him outside from the little glass circle on the wooden door. "Remember before we got married you had that nightmare? The day papa slapped you?" I nodded. "I mimicked papa's voice and you fell for it, you calmed down Jaanvi. And I did the same today and look, here we are, parents to a new born baby."
"So-so papa was never here?" He shakes his head negatively.
Kiaan laughs a little putting his head on my lap. "I love you so much but it's nothing compared to the love you have for your father and he has for you."
"Kiaan n--" I don't want him to feel bad. I love them both equally but the amount of respect I have for my father, he raised me by himself and never said something to make me realise what he's done for me. He didn't marry another women. As mean as it sounds, I'm happy and proud he didn't. Because only my mother has the right to be called Mrs Ahuja no one else. My love for Kiaan increases day by day, especially today because of Ishaan but I can't forget everything papa did for me.
"Hey," he gets up and holds my hand. "I don't mean it like that. I'm saying it in a good way. I-I've just never seen a girl so close to her father. So close that his one call on her name builds up her strength. It's so cool Ariel." He smiles.
I look at my baby boy sleeping on the crib peacefully. "Because you haven't met a girl without a mother in your life." I brokenly smiled keeping my eyes on Ishaan.
"Ha papa." I smile at him taking my one and a half month son into his arms. Kiaan and I both touch his feet for blessing and Dhruv does the same. The whole time we walked into the house papa just kept making funny faces at the little boy who woke up. I walked beside papa so Ishaan doesn't start panicking on seeing a new face but he doesn't. He just stares back at papa's old brown eyes with his big and fresh ones.
Papa puts him down on the couch and puts his hand on the side of his head and starts making monkey faces. I was kneeling down next to papa just watching the little giggles coming out of Ishaan's mouth and his kicks were working hard onto papa's and my hands.
"He likes you papa." Kiaan's voice came our cheerful and papa nods bringing his index finger on top of Ishaan's head. The little boys' eyes weren't on papa anymore but instead on his old wrinkling finger. Papa brings his index finger closer to his grandsons face but just when Ishaan tries to get it or smile with his small mouth open papa increases the distance between his finger and Ishaan's face.
As first Ishaan's face turned sad and his lips were ready to tremble, noticing the defeated and unhappy grandson papa finally gave in and brought his finger closer to Ishaan's hand and he curled his fingers onto papa's index finger and starts to squeak and giggle. Dhruv starts taking Ishaan's photo while papa stays locked in his hold.
"Yup, definitely likes his nanu (grandfather) more than his only chachu." (Uncle-father's younger brother) Dhruv plasters a fake disappointed face and pulls out his tongue at Ishaan who's not even paying attention at him. "He's ignoring me. He's just like his mother. Mean."
"Thank god he's smart then." I reply poking my tongue at him.
"Excuse me?" Kiaan's voice raised a little and showered me with his offended face. I give him a helpless smile but he keeps his narrowed eyes straight at me.
Papa stood up from his spot and unwrapped his finger, heading over to the kitchen but Ishaan starts crying and kicking his foot around. For being such a young child I didn't expect him to be wide awoke till now. "Papa stay, he wants you." I said standing up. "I'll make some tea and meet dadi." (Grandma) I see the visual and uplifting smile shrinks at the mention of his mother. My shoulder stiff and I glance at papa with fishy eyes who was looking at both the Rajput brothers.
"So? Something wrong?" I try to question further on hoping someone will speak up. Papa darted his eyes at Kiaan who just looked away from me and held Ishaan into his arms as an excuse.
He stands up with Ishaan's face on his neck. "I-I s-should change his diaper." I raise my eyebrow in such a way that he's aware I won't spare him if he's hiding something.
He walks upstairs with Dhruv following him-no, running muttering a low, "I better learn how to change children's diapers for future reference and learning has no age limit." Now I was glaring at my father. Dhruv and being so open about his personal life of supposedly having his own child-which I obviously know he'll have-and saying it so causally in front of my father was strange because of how shy he is. I stalk towards papa and fold my arms across my chest.
"What's going on?" The disturbed and heartbroken as well as pain expressions featuring on his face hurt me. My breaths became uneasy thinking off all the negative possibilities of something going terribly wrong. I kept my foot steady on the ground and wait for him to break the negative bubble around my head by a positive news.
He lifts up his right hand and starts using sign language to tell me what's wrong. I feel my heart aching as if someone had given me my happiness back but took it away with my smile in such force that I didn't have time to blink over it. By the time he finished he was crying and I just stood there motionless.
"Dadi you're so strict." I muttered moving away from her embrace.
She scoffs holding my hand and bringing me closer. "Because I love you."
"You're lying. You're not this strict with Jai or Rashi." I sat on the bed looking out the window. "I hate it when you yell at me."
"If I don't yell at you how will you understand my love for you? Tell me?" I remain silent and feel the bed dip next to me. "I have high hopes from you Jaan. Teri Ma nahi hai. Unki hai. Mein nahi chati meri Ansh our Ishaani ki laadki-listen, people don't like bad people and I want people to like you. To like my Jaanvi." (You don't have a mother. They do. I don't want my Ansh and Ishaani's daughter to--) She hugged me close to her head and no matter how much her unexpected yells hurt me, in the end of the day I knew she loved me and did everything for my own good.
"No." I don't believe this. She can't have cancer. She can't be dying any time soon. She was with me through my ups and downs. Like a teacher to an uneducated girl. She educated me about life, about values and love for others and papa says she'll leave me. "She can-c-can't." Every time I smile it's like the god hates me. Hates my smile or me so much that he takes it away with the worst possible news.
"P-pa--" I drop the sentence mid-way because I know I can't finish it off before sobbing out all the tears remained in my body. I sat down on the floor gazing at my wedding ring. "I-I had no hope." I stutter touching the ring Kiaan brought for me before our wedding. "No h-hope t-that I'd love Kiaan p-papa. S-s-sh--" I shut my mouth with my hand so Kiaan and Dhruv don't hear me.
I tilt my face to the left and gaze at her small bedroom door. "I spent m-m-most of my--" her room. My happiness. Her natural warm smell. My breath. Her hugs. My blankets to wrap around me. Her yells. My maturity. Her kisses. My smiles. Her sickness. My pain. And yet I didn't feel her sitting on her deathbed at some hospital while I life my life normally.
"J-j-jav--" I break his already broken voice.
"Anything more than Jaave papa? She's dying and you didn't tell me! M-m-my childhood is dying and you---" I just open my arms to hug him and he accepts with his tears linking at the same time mine drips. It didn't erase the pain. It broke me even more thinking, would papa die as well soon? Will I be all left alone? His human shield hug couldn't protect me from the pain I felt at this moment.
"Hamesha hum hi kyu papa?" (Why always us papa?) From losing his life partner to losing my mother. From getting separated after my marriage to conflict between our father and daughter relationship because of Juhi's family. To now losing someone we love. His mother, the women who gave birth to him and the women who partly grew me up.
"If your heart is clear Jaanvi, then you'll see through the negative." Wasn't my heart clear enough?
"W-w-what w-will i-I say to Ishaan? H-he w-won't remember her! Ki-K-Kiaan was around t-two yet he forgot Mumma. I-I wa-want Ishaan to remember dadi--" I had been hugged before but never like this since the last time I broke down miserably. I was all over the place last year, so down, broken, dead and silent. I tried to loosen my muscles up but everything failed. Papa kissed my head and his tears touched my scalp.
~
"Namaskar." I faked my smooth and outgoing voice and smiled as I approached my grandma's old body lying flat on the hospital bed. Living was easy. I don't really believe that saying because even after having no mood-swings and back pains or vomits and labour pains I'm still finding it hard to live. My child is in my arms. Sleeping by his fingers holding onto my mangalsutra. (Wedding chain) My husband earns enough, I've got a son like most Asian families wish for rather than a daughter. No family drama for giving birth to a girl-I know Kiaan's family isn't like one of those narrow minded ones-but yet everything's just so hard to digest.
I live outside of India, the society thinks I've done a fabulous job by trapping Kiaan and wrapped him around my fingers. Because he's an NRI. Lives outside of India, earns a lot if we convert his money into rupees, handsome and elder son. They don't see the negative. Why would they? They don't see how he use to drink, even if some old aunties knew they'd probably ignore it because he's a man or has a good job. It's always hard for the girl. She's always the pressured one.
Whether compromise with your study, we can't afford it. It's too much, you have to cook only in the end so why bother wasting so much money? But if a boy wastes his degree and does nothing it's ok, why? Because he will give an heir. Who cares about the women walking around the streets and working hard or just going through all the pain for those nine months? People are blind, aren't they? Men can just produce kids by themselves, women are useless. Periods aren't needed because men can do everything themselves. Females are just meant to cook.
I've been judged. For my clothes. For my bluntness. And for the truth and my optimistic behaviour. You're a girl, you should remain in your limit. The next day a girl-a five year old or a teenage girl is raped those voiced aren't raised against those uneducated men? Boys? Men, makes me laugh. Some don't act like one. The blame is easily targeted on the small and weak looking girl or women. They know, they all know what females are capable of but they wouldn't acknowledge it. And if parents don't acknowledge it, what are the kids going to do? Peel bananas?
They don't believe or trust women enough to encourage her or let her life the way she wants. The way she wants to dress or talk. Or how she behaves and what she does with whom she does. And in some cases even boys are told liars if they openly talk about being raped. It all resolves around uneducated, nosey and narrow-minded society with over billions of people.
And right now, I feel I can survive everything if I feel loved. Worthy of love.
Those eyes were so old, so precious to me but in any time they'd close shut. And it freaks me out so much. I take small steps towards me and smile the best as I can. 'In her last day just show her how happy you are. Sometimes it's not a lie, Jaan if you're doing someone good.' I chanted Kiaan's advice into my head and hold her very old shaggy skinned hand into my own.
Her dry skin sends shivers into my body and I force the lump to push away. I look at my son and wonder if his great-grandma was anywhere close to him in his future. Lucky or not, I just firmly hold her hand. "I-Ishaani?" She whispers, her voice was really low from the weakness.
"No, Jaanvi." I come closer to her face and remove my hand from her grip replacing it on Ishaan's back so he doesn't fall on grandma. "See, I'm Jaanvi and this is Ishaan, papa told you nah?" She touches my face with her dry skin and I close my eyes, feeling the same old warmth even from her older and drier hands.
"Ha." She nods a little. She was laying down and I was told not to help her sit up because the needles would come off or shift a little. She was also weak to sit up. I sit on the chair next to her and show her Ishaan's face with his small back touching my chest.
"Mera beta." (My son) I hold onto his face so he doesn't fall of or get sore head. She breaks down into tears bringing her shaky old hands to touch him. Thank god I came. I was thankful of Kiaan for pushing me to stay in India for four months, if only he knew grandma had cancer. He didn't know, he found out from me and looked equally as shocked and heartbroken as I was. I moved closer to her and she grasped his finger and then drifted her finger up to his face.
"He smiles like you. L-like you d-did as a baby." It was always nice to hear her talk about my childhood, how well she remembered it but knowing the similarities my son and I share was even better. She was old, she saw her two children and then her three grandchildren's childhood yet she remembered how I smiled or behaved like. I looked down to see a small pure smile on his face. His lips parted and some drool running down his lips and chin which I wiped away from my saree.
"Why didn't you let papa tell me? A-about you?"
"Because you were already going through so much." She holds his finger.
"I deserve to know. I'm your grandchild." I raise my voice, hurt.
She gestures me to pass Ishaan to her and I do. I put him on her chest and she wraps her trembling weak arms around him and I keep a hand on his back incase he falls out of her grip.
"You're always angry Jaanvi. Tera beta na ho bas." (I wish your son isn't the same) she chuckles and I just shake my head smiling.
~
Grandma, Ishaan and I meet every day. So does papa. Kiaan calls every morning and night to keep a record on us. It's been good. Not lonely. I wanted to stay with papa because he's all alone in that big house but I couldn't forget that I had a family. I couldn't run away from responsibilities especially if it involved in soon-to-be wedded house.
It's February, Ishaan is five months old. What saddens me is Kiaan missed those two months of his life because of his job. Of course he facetimed but being physically close was way better. It feels like yesterday. Yesterday when I held him into my arms for the first time and now he has already completed half a year of his life. Ishaan was crawling on the bed with my phone in his hand. I don't know what it is but the bright screen is fascinating to him. "Ish, pass mumma the phone."
He's aware of his nickname and name now. Every time we call out to him he looks and sends a smile from his chubby face.
"Oii, naughty boy. Pass the phone, papa will call you soon." I pretend to slow motion run over to him and his eyes go big in fear. Shit. I don't want him to cry, which he was going to do because I've learnt to understand his straight thin lips then turning down and down until he cries out. I fall down on the floor purposely pretending to be all hurt and he looks at me with wide eyes trying to understand what happened. "Mumma got hurt." I bring my fisted hands and act as if I'm crying.
Laying down next to him I mimic him with those pouty sad lips and he crawls a little closer and puts his hand on my face. I was so tempted to smile to but I compressed it with a sad look. He runs his small fingers from my nose to my lips and then slowly taps on my cheeks. No, slaps me gently.
"Are you hitting me?" I ask lifting him up and he laughs and then I bring him closer to me and lay him on my stomach. "You're hitting mumma aren't you?" I pout and he giggles. I take his hand away from my cheeks and noticing how I don't like the mini slaps he keeps doing it with a giggle. I open my mouth, stunned seeing how smart and naughty he was.
Smart because he knew I didn't like it and yet he kept gently slapping/tapping on my cheek and naught because he's stubborn. 'Forgot who his mother is?' I remember Kiaan's voice and shake my head. "Bad boy." I narrow my eyes at him. He drops his head on my chest and this time starts tapping me on my chest slowly. What is he doing? "Ishaan?" I call out and he kicks my stomach. "Ouch, calm down boy. Fine, sleep." He hates it when someone tries to speak to him or call out his name.
I run my hand on his back to help him fall asleep and that's when Kiaan Facetimes. I accept the call holding the phone with one hand and the other on Ishaan's back.
"Where is he?" He gets straight to the point. I see his shoulders all loosened up and his hair was a mess but handsome mess. He flashes me his dimples looking around the screen to spot his son.
"On top of me. Kiaan he's slapping me." I said giving him and annoyed look.
"Don't lie, show me where he is." He says impatiently. I bring the camera down to show Ishaan laying on top of me. "Is he sleeping?" I bring the camera on my face and nod my head negatively.
"He's trying to eat my saree. And right now it's soaked up from one place." I pout and Kiaan laughs. "He's like you. All naughty and stuff." I look away from the camera but hear Kiaan chuckle.
"Glad to know you feel this about me." I smiled back seeing the dimple on his right cheek. "I'm flying in five days."
"I remember. Hurry up, I'm having hard time trying to control my leg from ending up on Ishaan's stomach." Kiaan fells on the bed chuckling. "It's not funny. Kajal offered to sleep but us but i-I mean s-she isn't like as close as Aditi so having my leg all around her is just awkward."
"Do you know how awkward I felt the first time you had it on me?" He asked, rolling on his stomach. Some of his hair fell on his forehead and I wish I could push it away.
"I remember you needed a cold shower. That's it." I said it like it was as easy as to write my own name. He frowns at me. "Kiaan he's seriously slapping me." He asks me to show his sons antics and I do.
Kiaan looks carefully and licks his lips like he always does when he's thinking. "Wait. So you fell to make him laugh and then laid next to him and from then he's slapping or tapping your cheeks first and now your chest?"
"Yeah." I sit up from the support of my elbow and make Ishaan sit on my lap facing the camera. "See, papa. Look." I point at the camera but he doesn't look. He just starts playing with my saree.
"Ishaan. Buddy, see, papa here." Kiaan calls out but Ishaan doesn't look. "Well, I just got rejected by my son." I nod in agreement and laugh as his disappointed face. "I think he was tapping or slapping or whatever it is because you do that to him when he cries or feels sleepy. You were acting all sad nah?" I nod. "Then I think he was just copying you to make you smile or sleep."
I part my lips to say something but I don't know how to disagree or agree with him. "Maybe." Is all I say to him.
~
"Today I won't sleep devar ji." (Brother-in-law) I chirp smiling like an idiot. I elbow Aditi who stood in our living room from the title of Dhruv's wife. Kiaan grips my arm and gives me a stern look but I can't forget how embarrassed his brother made me feel. "You should sleep." I advise them both. Aditi tries so hard to give me a stern look bur because she was all red in shyness it didn't affect me.
"W-w-what?" Dhruv laughs. "A-are y-you s-s-saying?" His awkward laugh was my favourite. I wanted to set it as my ringtone.
"Nothing. Good night." Kiaan pulls me into our room and I can't help but laugh.
"Oh my god, did you see their faces? Especially your brothers? I'm so proud of myself!" I take of my bangles and place them on the dressing table. "Oh, I've planned exactly what I'll say to them tomorrow morning." I inform Kiaan with such excitement.
"Good. Do whatever you want but sleep right now." He just takes his shoes of and doesn't bother changing his wedding clothes. I furrow my eyes at him and take Ishaan from his arms and start unbuttoning my sons' clothes to change into something more comfortable for sleepwear.
"Change your clothes Kiaan." I tell him, taking Ishaan's hand off the sleeves. "Hold up." I tell Ishaan who looks sleepy already. I don't blame him, today was busy.
"I can't be bothered." He replies falling on the bed.
"Hurry up." I warn one again. I slip Ishaan into a blue top and pyjamas and pick him up into my arms heading to the bed.
"You're so bossy." He groans taking of his sherwani and just sleep on the bed shirtless without closing the light. Says the one who didn't let me eat pizza and chocolates.
"I did all the work and your both son and father are tried for no reason." I mutter turning the light off and lay Ishaan in the middle of the bed.
Aditi was married. My best friend was married and now my sister-in-law, in this one year everything had changed. Grandma's health is the same, probably worst but the doctor doesn't tell me anything expect papa. And in a month Kiaan would be twenty-nine. "Time flies Ish." And soon you'll grow up. I'm sorry but I can't stop the time. And neither can I control it. I put my arm on top of Kiaan which was on Ishaan's stomach and drift off to sleep.
Married My Enemy