A/N: Hey people! Here's the next token of Raghav and Himani, it's a quite lengthy chapter. I have also written the part where Himani returns, but I was hesitant to add it to this chapter since this is like super-long.
Glossary:
Kichdi- It is a breakfast dish made with semolina and desired vegetables in South India.
Vadai- Donut shaped savory dish made from lentils.
Pallavi- The starting stanza of a song that keeps repeating through out the song.
Dappanguthu- It is a folk dance, and music genre performed in South India, and very popular in Tamil cinema.
Dandanakka- It is a word used to emphasize the percussion of drums, usually in folk songs.
12. Is This Figureoutable?
"Meena, have you started from home?"
Khushi asked tentatively, when Meena had picked the call at the final ring.
Sat on her bike, holding her dislodged helmet with a hand, and managing the handle bar with the other, Meena pressed the phone to her shoulders. "Yes, Khushi. I just dropped Mudra at school," she managed to answer, amidst the noise of buses and motorcycles buzzing brusque and far-off. Khushi sat still as if something confusing going on in that pretty mind of hers.
And, clearly, the enlightening did not alleviate it.
Usually, she never called Meena or Raghav at this time in the morning. She knew either of them would be driving. But today, abstaining herself from calling them, was the last thing she could think of.
She had tried calling Raghav first—and when he had not answered the call twice, she'd dialled Meena.
Frowning upon the silence—and a little upon the glaring nine O'clock skies that threatened to blind her eyes, Meena prompted, "Should I pick you up or something? You never call me at this time. What happened Khushi, are you alright?" Meena was genuinely puzzled with the call and the silence that followed.
Khushi simply stared at the booting desktop in front of her, before she skated her chair closer to her desk. "I have reached office. Dev dropped me off," she responded offhandedly. Whilst Meena was starting to brood over the flat tone, she added hastily, without a breathing spell. "Meena, can you pick up some chocolates on your way to office?"
An amused smile followed through the confused look on Meena's face.
She'd never seen Khushi eat chocolates in the longest time they'd known each other. Hating chocolates was, perchance, an anomaly—but Khushi did it strictly. She'd never envisioned herself munching on a chocolate anyday. Today the image of that damned thing was distracting her too much, and she could barely stop herself from pining for it.
Foreseeing how her reminder would miff her did not stop Meena from saying it. "Khushi, you hate chocolates!" She notified with a gentle laugh.
Khushi, as if she was uncertain about it, wrinkled her nose. "I know right! But I feel like eating them today."
Meena couldn't stop the smile rising on her lips, despite standing under the scorching sun. "Alright, I will pick up some on my way to the office," she affirmed cheerfully.
The feeling of sleek, sweet surface melt gloriously in her mouth as she'd bite into the chocolate bar starting to invade her senses, Khushi chirped brightly into the phone, "Thank you, Meena. Come soon."
And she had to spend the rest of the seventeen minutes until Meena came with her chocolates, just anticipating and fantasizing the sweetness that'd bestow her mouth with.
"Hey," Meena greeted striding over to her seat. "Here's your chocolates." She handed over the chocolate bars she'd bought on her way to Khushi, who took them gleefully and began shucking the chocolate wrapper.
"Thank you, Meena." An enthusiastic mutter floated back before she took and unwrapped the goodness to her mouth.
Meena slumped on her seat, taking the sling bag off her body. "Anytime, Khushi, anytime." Running her fingers through her hair, pulling them in a high bun, she rendered. "Pregnancy got you crave for the stuff, you'd never wanted to eat in your whole life."
Khushi nodded, stuffing her mouth with another huge chunk of the chocolate bar. "I know! Can't believe it's chocolate I am craving for," she asserted, her eyes narrowed with complaint. "I couldn't stop thinking about eating them from the moment I came into the office. I called Raghav, to ask if he could pick up some on his way."
Meena held on to Khushi's eyes waiting for her to continue the Raghav part—rather the chocolate ramble, even though the latter one was thoroughly occupied only in devouring it.
"He did not pick up the call. And then I called you," she added slowly, after completely chewing the last piece of the chocolate bar and tossing the wrapper into the trash bin at her feet. Chocolate was not that bad after all.
Meena's brows drew together at the mere mention of his name. She strained her neck back and scanned Raghav's empty seat and then the corners of the room for an indefinite moment, before her eyes darted straight to Khushi's. "Where's he?"
It was a Monday morning, and it was way past the usual time he came to work, yet he was not here, today.
Khushi simply shrugged, taking a look at the time from lower corner of her desktop and continued to open the article she'd been working on. "He did not answer both the times I had called this morning."
Intrigued by the nonchalance in it, Meena spun on her chair and slid it to Khushi. "Not answering calls, not coming to the office with no notice about it are all something that he doesn't usually do," she enthused looking heuristically over Khushi with impishly narrowed eyes, and a playful grin. "Oru velai Himaniya thedi oorukke poitaano! (Has he gone to her hometown in search of Himani!)"
A soft laughter rumbled out of Khushi's chest, just as she remembered to bring words out. "Meena, with whatever I know about him, I don't think he is ready to talk to Himani about it, yet." Her clarification brimming with all the confidence she had, Khushi said.
Meena paused for an instant interpreting Khushi's statement in her mind. Imagining how ready Raghav would be—considering the fact, it took one whole week without her to realize that they were not just friends aiding the thought, only made her sigh impatiently. And then she acquiesced. "I think so too!"
Khushi nodded before she leaned forward to plant her elbow on the desk, sinking her chin into her palm. "It'd just seem like a mess to him, right now—about himself, the situation, everything," she implied calmly.
Meena seemed to have a difficult time registering what Khushi said, but she just had to do it, because the person in question was Raghav—not her or anyone else—and there was nothing she could do about expediting it.
"That's because it might be hard for him to process what's happening? But do you think it's still hard on him even after he'd said it to us himself—"
Just when Meena was rattling on, the buzz from Khushi's phone jarred against the work desk interrupted with Raghav's name flash on the display. Meena's tireless rant paused as she looked over at the phone, and then at Khushi meaningfully.
"Raghav?" Khushi called out, answering the phone and putting it up on speaker. "Where are you?"
"Khushi, my phone was in silent and I wasn't paying attention to it," he spoke offhandedly. "You've called me twice, what's going on?"
Khushi's brows rose at it, and Meena blinked her bemused eyes at the dormantly lying phone displaying his photo, and at his perfectly normal tone and the sound of someone strumming a guitar from beside him, float through. "Raghav, I think you've got to tell us what's going on," Meena stated impetuously.
Addled at the note of a guitar, Khushi echoed her. "I think so too, where are you?"
"I am at Yadhav's studio," he said quietly. "There's some deadline that needs some help."
"Oh." Khushi's flat hum came up. "Aren't you working today?"
"I was going to, but then he called me up this morning asking if I could help. So drove here soon after that," he cleared up.
Meena left Khushi a suspicious glance before diverting it to the phone on the desk. "Raghav, are you okay?"
Raghav exhaled slowly, as he got up from his chair and sauntered over to the patio of the building.
It was a petty studio stalled far from the city's hubbub. He did not want to go to work that day. And helping Yadhav on his project's deadline did seem to be underwhelming either. But it was a better option to go with, since every little thing about his routine was reminding him of Himani—starting to show signs of him being deprived of something; and he did not want to stay home alone, too.
Quietly, he walked along the border of the concrete boundary that separated the path from the small garden area in the front. "You could say that," he mumbled. The time he took to reply, and the way he'd cautiously said that announced a lot about his mood, and how okay he was than the answer itself.
"Meena!"
The lady from the next panel walked over to give a pat on Meena's shoulder. "Anant Sir is calling you," she informed, pointing at the glass door opposite to the hallway.
Meena got off her chair to take a look at Anant Sir, who was waving at her to come over.
She got hold of a pen drive and collected a bunch of papers from her private drawer. "You guys carry on, I will be back in sometime," she announced before worming out of her seat, and then to the cabin opposite to their desk.
Khushi nodded at Meena as she turned the speaker off, and put the phone to her ears. "Raghav, you're not okay, and it is so evident." What she stated was in all conscience, like the damned reality, it was. He'd just discovered he was feeling exclusive for Himani—especially, when he had never had all those ever before and all that—alright, but what was he up to?
Raghav paused momentarily at it—he was not exactly not okay. He was having a different feeling towards one of his friends. And it was nice, not nice, at the same frigging time altogether, to have all of those feelings hunch over him.
Not being able to deny what she said, he just put a hand in his pocket and mumbled. "You could say that too."
Khushi scowled instantly. "I know we both like Kamal Haasan but please don't talk like him right now. I am not in the mood to decode it."
A dull chuckle was all Raghav gave at her remark, as he sank down under the grotesquely branched neem tree, to sit down totally not caring about getting his trousers untidy in the mud.
Taking the silence for granted, Khushi spoke up. "Speak out what it is as what it is." Her voice low and hollow, she goaded, "For your sake, talk to someone. To Rahul or Suhasini, Meena, Himani or to me."
His response came in a lightening instant. "You know I cannot talk about this to Meena—Himani is her friend too. Rahul and Suha are kinda busy, since Suresh Uncle is there. And no way to think about discussing this with Himani, before I can ground myself, about it," he recited sincerely. He then paused, blew a breath out and added grumpily, "Plus, you're my best friend."
That granted her a very smug smile as she raised her invisible collars to herself. "That leaves you with no choice. You've got to tell me, what's going on in your mind about this way you're feeling for Himani."
Raghav leaned his head against the trunk of the tree, just setting his eyes on the leaves that roofed his head, blankly, as he murmured. "I think so too. But not on the phone." He felt it was better of spoken in person and not on phone.
And Khushi could get the hang of it—there were several questions fluttering around in her head about it, apart from all those she needed to listen Raghav talk—and a phone talk wouldn't be the best option.
"Okay, come home tomorrow. Dev has an off, join us for breakfast," she suggested readily.
Raghav hesitated. Khushi and Dev, they were barely able to spend a lot of time together these days. And he was not convinced to go when they could do it. "Hey, I don't want to ruin that little time you spend with Dev, Khushi. It won't be fair," he bade.
And just like that, Khushi was struck with awe at his outlook on what she'd recommended—with no idea since when did he start having thoughts like that.
Khushi sucked in a long breath with her slightly parted mouth. "FYI that was not a question. Come home," she straightened it out, wryly.
Raghav was still wavering at it. "Are you sure, Khushi?" He was asking for reassurance—something the Raghav she'd known wouldn't ask for, making Khushi shake her head.
"Have you seen me being unsure about anything?"
"No."
"So yeah, do come." Her declaring it was very grim, and held Raghav back from saying anything against it.
Hearing another exasperated sigh from the other side did not help Khushi's sanity further. "Can you please stop being someone else? Like, what's going on in your head? Why are you being very un-Raghav-like?"
Her frantic ramble had a few questions for which he did not have the answers.
So, he decided to go with something she'd sought at the first place, trading it off. "Okay, I will join you guys for breakfast tomorrow."
Raghav could easily discern her smile from the other side. "Good boy," she perked up. "And we have planned to go out for dinner tonight, so you don't have to worry about ruining about our time and all that."
Raghav chuckled. "Okay."
Khushi's eyes narrowed probingly at that one question she'd been noodling around for a long time. "So did you talk to Himani?" Without wasting another second, she had asked it out.
Despite being disoriented so much, what he just heard from Khushi brought a tiny, silly smile out of him. Perhaps, it was the only answerable question he had gotten from her. And he knew the answer wouldn't please her very much, anyways.
"No," he said with a sigh. Burying his face in his largish palm, he murmured. "Don't ask me why, you know why."
And Khushi knew why. He had been having a conflict with himself about whatever was going on since a few days, and it involved a huge chunk of his own feelings, aberration of his beliefs, a grab bag of memories with her fond to his heart. But that was not the only thing he could to talk to Himani about—they'd been good friends for sometime now, and a conventional phone call could happen.
This much of serious deliberation to herself would take this situation nowhere. Cluing in would just not help with Raghav right now, so she simply decided to let him know directly. "Raghav, I am not asking you to talk about your feelings to her. You're her good friend, and you have all the right to call and just greet her."
"You're right," Raghav agreed gallingly as if the fact was upsetting him more, "I miss her... a little too much."
Khushi rolled her eyes, disappointed. "You liking her or missing her doesn't make you both telepathic," she bit out pertly, "You should have to tell it out."
Raghav got up from the tree shade, and dusted his bum off, "I will be home tomorrow for breakfast." His voice came back in a mutter with all its newfound seriousness making Khushi furrow her brows.
She scoffed. "Oh, you did not hear what I said, is it?"
"I did and I am going to talk to her." Flat-out, his words raced back, weary from being this way since more than a week.
Khushi couldn't stop herself from sympathizing for him right at the moment, at his hushed tone—and doubted if she was pushing him a bit excessively. May be, she shouldn't do that.
Hoping not to pressure him, she told him in her best cheering tone. "Good to hear that."
"Would you ask Dev to do that kichdi for me?" he asked, walking back into the hallway of the studio. "You don't cook, please," he added.
Khushi's eyes narrowed as she heard him laugh, soft and low but mockingly. "You tell that to him yourself, moron. And no, I am not cooking. Don't worry."
"Thanks."
"No thanks needed," Khushi stuck her tongue out mischievously, just as she mumbled casually, "You're lovesick. So you get whatever you want."
Raghav shook his head disapproving that, and pulled in an inhale. "I am not lovesick, Khushi," he grumbled, and it was right away visible that he was irritated.
"You are. Just get on with it. Don't make a big deal denying it."
"You're my friend!" It was almost a plea.
Khushi smiled. "So?"
"You're supposed to be supportive, and not mocking me, you know?"
"Like you were when Dev and I dated?" Khushi snorted.
Raghav closed his eyes for a brief second, and opened them as the stupid realization—how he used to make fun of Khushi and Dev—spun to life in his head. He shook his head with a remembering laugh. "Fine, I shouldn't have done all those things." His admitting was earnest at his best, making Khushi wonder. Quickly releasing a faltering breath, he conceded faggedly. "If only I'd known my fate before."
Khushi pressed her trembling lips together tightly. "You'd have not thrown all the mockery at Dev and I." And failed miserably in constraining the laugh that was erupting from her chest, seeing him in the kind of trouble she'd always wanted to see him in.
Raghav, with a crumpled face, sat quietly, stupidly, listening to her laugh at him. "If you have nothing nice to say," he said with a grunt, when Khushi was done with her very nice way of handling a lovelorn friend.
"I should say nothing at all, I know. Couldn't help it, sorry," she quacked in flow. "Do you have anything else to say, sir?"
"Why are you asking? To ridicule me more?" He sulked.
"No!" Khushi protested actively, making Raghav's brow straighten out of the frown. She then continued. "From now on, I am going to root for you. And we're going to figure this out, okay?"
There was unaccountable zest and pride in the way she'd sounded off. Though it did not necessarily, for a bit, convince Raghav, he agreed anyway. "Okay. We'll see tomorrow."
Just when Khushi was about to hang up after muttering him a bye, Raghav's voice—very well hesitant but deeply in some contemplation sounded over.
"Hey."
Khushi, with a slight, curious frown, retook the phone to her ear. "Yeah?"
Raghav stayed hanging back for a transitory moment, as he brushed his hand over the scruff of his jaw. "Do you think this is figureoutable?" he asked, in a small, worsted voice—and rather than disappointment in it, there was concern.
Khushi, too, paused for an instant—he wasn't the person that cared about something to the extent of doubting the figuring out part, was he? He was flipped out—with a new love brain—that was driving him out of mind.
"I think it is; Don't think too much. Bye."
In little less than ten minutes from hanging up on call with Raghav, Meena was out of the cabin from across the hall, and Anant sir had come back to his place, too—a few chairs past Khushi's. Khushi walked over to Anant Sir's seat, to inform him about Raghav's leave of absence.
"Anant Sir, Raghav inikkum nalikkum vara maataan. Sick leave potukonga, (Raghav won't be coming to work today and tomorrow. Please mark him sick leave,)" she told them, with a tinge of ridicule—which was utterly unintentional, though—after sitting comfortably in the chair next to his.
Meena, seated right next to his seat, watched Khushi's face strangely—what could've happened in the ten minutes she was gone?
Anant Sir peered over his spectacles, his watchful eyes blinking in disbelief. "Ennaachaam avan odambukku? Edhukku sick leave? (What has happened to him? Why he is availing sick leave?" he queried with interest.
"Avanukku odambukku ellaam onnumille, Anant Sir, (Nothing is wrong with his health, Anant Sir,)" Khushi replied with bubbling gusto, and then the remaining information was filled in by Meena—with the little matter she'd known before she left the phone call.
"Manasu seri illenu sonnaa office le leave kudupingala... adhaan apdi solraan, (Would you sanction him a leave if he'd said he was not feeling well by heart? That's why he'd use his sick leave.)"
Anant Sir turned his head to give Meena an amusing glance. "Is that why he seemed frustrated last week?" he inquired, feeling a surge of diligence to know all about the quaint impatience and restlessness Raghav had trucked with him, all through the week.
Meena consented with a buoyant nod.
Anant Sir lowered his voice, just to their earshot, feeling a little delightful about the possibility. "Ennaachu? Edhavadhu love-u give panraanaa? (Is he in love or something?)"
Khushi, from the other side of his chair, snorted irresistibly at the old man's eagerness. "Ippothaan aarambichurku, (It has just started,)" she'd replied with a giggle.
Anant Sir turned his attention back to Khushi, at her words. "Good thing," he said quietly. "He won't be needing that tinder—or something anymore."
"He should've deleted it from his phone by now."
****
"Hey," Raghav walked through the door that was readily kept open for him to come.
Khushi, who was on the couch with the newspaper wide spread on her folded legs, raised her brows at him. He was in his half-trousers and collared t-shirt, his brown eyes tired and very much deprived of sleep, as he walked in further, and plopped himself at the other end of the sofa.
Khushi folded the newspaper neatly, as she commented, "You look sleepless."
Raghav rubbed his face with both of his hands. "Didn't have proper sleep," he murmured, his voice still sleep rubbed and hoarse.
She looked over at him thoughtfully. "Do you have to do work today—I mean—for the project you're helping Yadhav?"
"No. It's over."
"Good thing." It was Dev, who'd just come into the conversation by poking his head out from the kitchen. "You don't look like you're ready to go to work from here."
His hair was disheveled—from which Dev had mentally taken note that he'd not even cared to brush it—and his apparent unrestful demeanor told so many things at the moment when he stayed mute, not knowing how to react to that.
Khushi rose from her place. "I think it's better if we eat before we have the talk, Raghav. All of us are going to need food first."
Raghav patted his stomach, rising from the couch, following Khushi and Dev into the kitchen, "Please—I am starving."
All of them settled down on the couch with their respective plates in their hands, and kichdi that Dev had prepped for breakfast on it, in a few minutes that followed.
Raghav had started nibbling his breakfast, and so did Dev, whilst Khushi stirred uncomfortably at the sight of food in her hands.
Dev took a pause from eating his food, and stared at Khushi. "What happened? Why aren't you eating?" He'd thought she might want to puke, but it was for something else.
Khushi glanced at him undecidedly. "I want chips."
Raghav brought his face up to Khushi, genuinely puzzled. "Chips?"
"Yes, it's in the kitchen." Her reply was swift and assured this time. "I am going to get myself some."
Dev intervened with concern. "You sure you want to eat chips in empty stomach?" She was starting to grow bizarre food habits since a few days, and he was training himself to acquaint with them.
A fierce glare was all Khushi gave him. "I said I want chips," she bit out each word, and to say she was irritated would be an understatement.
"Okay, fine," he murmured slowly, beholding her narrowed eyes, hoping for her reproachful expressions to slacken. They only got worsened when a faint crack of Raghav's snigger came out, despite his intense urge to bottle it down.
Her eyes flung over to Raghav, just as she asked, gravely. "Why are you laughing? Do I look funny?"
"Yeah."
"What?"
"No, sorry."
Dev plunged forward to get a hold of Khushi's hand to soothe it. "Khushi, you go get your chips."
Leaving another death glare at the blokes, which was supposed to be threatening but only made Raghav lose control of a snigger again, Khushi stomped off to kitchen, her pretty, pouty mouth busily reprimanding them in a murmur.
Dev left an imploring look at Raghav. "Dei, please da avala katha vidaathe. (Please don't make her shout). She's just exhausted."
Raghav returned him a pitiful smile. "Sorry, dude. I will be nice hereafter."
Khushi returned to her spot hugging a huge packet of potato chips with a hand, and poking a stack of chips into her mouth with another. She spaded out a handful of chips and placed them on her plate, as she began eating it with her kichdi.
Raghav, who was noticing her quietly, couldn't help giving Dev a questioning, grossed out, what-on-earth-is-this look. He knew women might crave for unusual food combinations but this was really weird—perhaps, this was the first time he was having someone pregnant around him.
"Don't ask about it." Dev guardedly mouthed Raghav, with raised brows, before he could voice out his opinion on how queer it was and elicit a debate on it with his pregnant wife. And Raghav complied.
After having his sound attention to his plate of kichdi for whole five minutes, Raghav looked up to a very fiercely eating Khushi. "Can I ask you something?" His brown eyes were narrowed as if he was musing over something.
Khushi eyed him grimly. "If you're going to ask for chips, no, I won't give," she said, stuffing her mouth with more chips, in precaution—can't lose chips for anything, you see.
Raghav sighed. "Khushi, there are more important things going on in my mind than your chips."
"So you're saying chips are not important?" Her voice rose in an octave, and within it could advance into a whimper or mighty yell, Dev stroked Khushi's shoulder.
Taking it as a cue, Raghav shrugged. "Chips are important. But how you felt when you fell in love with Dev is more important, you see?"
Khushi coughed as the food choked on her throat, leaving her with dilated and utterly befuddled eyes, at what she just heard. Dev was shocked as well, and more than anything he couldn't help but take in the 'falling in love' part. He'd thought they were only going to talk about his liking for Himani, but here he was, wanting to know about love.
And Khushi had noted it too. But she was sure that it was an unintended confession—it might be true that Raghav had started falling for her, it was even evident to them in some of the circumstances; but becoming aware of it this quickly, especially when he was not fond of commitment and butterflies and stuff was unimaginable.
Saying something unintentionally didn't necessarily have to mean that there was no such thoughts, it was just that he was not aiming to say it out loud right now—she hoped he'd have that in his mind, though.
Khushi's lips curled in an all-knowing, one sided smile, when he'd altered it in his next articulation.
"I'd like to know how you felt when you and Dev started dating."
Dev gave her a momentous side glance at the timely, convenient change of his statement.
Khushi drew in a lengthy inhale, before she placed her plate on her lap and leveled him a look. "Wait, let me check again. You'd like to know how I felt when I started dating him?" she asked pointing her thumb at her husband; her words coming out in careful, slow speaking.
Raghav silently answered it with a nod.
Dev chuckled. "Wait, you normally ask stuff like, Khushi would you bake a chocolate cake for me? Khushi, you owe me a pizza for that; Khushi, please drop me home, my bike is with the mechanic..."
Raghav wore a straight face at the holy truth he had to hear about himself, as he finished his meal. He did not say anything; he got up from his spot and strode over to the kitchen to wash his hands and his plate.
Khushi kept gaping at him inquisitively until his somewhat dazed frame disappeared into the kitchen fully. As if the wait was over, she leaned in to whisper in her husband's ear. "He's fallen in love with her!"
Her excitement was so evident that it gave him a small smile. "It seems so."
"Varaan varaan, (He's coming,)" she mumbled and poked a spoonful of kichdi in her mouth.
Raghav came back to his spot, his brows drawn together like he was analyzing something.
"You're right," he started calmly, upping his face to Dev. "I normally ask stuff like that. But now I want to know about how you guys felt when... you know..."
"Raghav, I understand you're confused," Dev said, putting his empty plate on the teapoy. "But this is not an exam paper. You can't check if your answers and my answers are same to see if they're right," he said patiently.
Raghav took a full minute and gave an unhurried nod, taking in Dev's response. "Then how do I know?" he asked, sighing. "I have never felt this way—it'd been only mere attraction before. This one... with Himani... I wonder how I'd been so oblivious all these days."
Khushi did nothing but listen to him. He continued. "It's like we're both so used to each other that without her the space of the house seems so alien. Especially, when I'd started realizing that there's something more to this relationship, and we have not even discovered it, yet, talked about it, it is all too scary, and haunting. I just can't stop thinking about it," he admitted with a sigh.
Dev looked over at him, encouraging him to talk further. Raghav sighed again, as if the mere thinking had frazzled him out. "You know what, I give up!" he groaned, putting his hands up. "I can't explain it further."
Khushi pressed her lips together unable to contain the smile on them. "I understand," she said, stroking his back softly. "This is mortifying you so much because this is your first time."
"It's okay to be cautious a little, anyways," Dev gave his two cents. "But don't let it refrain yourself from giving your best to make this work. Don't fret too much about it—ideas change, beliefs change and along with them people change."
Raghav's shoulder relented as he sloped at the backrest of the sofa and simply blinked looking into some distant abyss. He did not know if any of his ramblings made sense, but all that Khushi and Dev had told him in the past few minutes were gradually starting to make sense, and he felt better.
Khushi paused munching on her chips, and looked at Dev, a little queasily. "Can you get me the peanut butter bottle from the fridge?"
"Sure."
When he'd returned to the living room with a jar of peanut butter, Raghav was still quietly sitting, his hands stroking his unkempt beard, slightly frowning.
"Thank you!" she told him with brisk voice. She opened the jar and scooped out a spoonful of peanut butter carefully and smeared it over two chips and put it in her mouth.
"Eww!" Witnessing Khushi eat chips with goddamn peanut butter had towed Raghav out of his trance. He made a disgusted face at Dev. "Dei, idhellaan enna nu nee kekka maatiyaa (Dei, what's she doing? Won't you ask about it?)"
Dev beamed goofily at Raghav. And nodded his head in a no. "Kekka maaten, neeyum kandukaadha, (I won't ask, you too do the same for better consequences.)"
"This is so good," Khushi moaned, her words half-coherent.
Raghav face-palmed. "Khushi, this is atrocious."
"Not more than seeing you lovesick," Khushi shot back in an instant.
Raghav went silent—again. The room was filled with just the crunches of the chips Khushi was still eating.
In a few minutes, as if he had determined something, Raghav blew a breath out, and turned towards Khushi and Dev. "What do you guys think? Will Himani like me? Don't you think she'd laugh at my face if I say that I like her."
"She might." It was Khushi, who said it. "No wonder, though, even we laughed at you when you said it."
Dev laughed at it, seeing Raghav make a face. "Khushi, don't mock him so much, paavam."
"Ey, I am not even sure if this will happen to him, again in this lifetime. I cannot let go of this opportunity."
Raghav did not have a choice but to surrender. "Fine, you can mock me. But do it after telling me, will she like me... in that way?" he mumbled like a five year old boy.
Khushi held the smile to herself by chewing the inside of cheeks. "In what way?"
"Romantically."
"Yeah, I think so," she said, feigning to be indefinite. "Both of you will make a good pair, like, this peanut butter and chips."
Raghav did not know if he was to laugh or cry at the comparison.
Dev interfered. "Don't scare him, Khushi."
He then turned to Raghav. "Don't think too much. Be sure of what you feel and express it to her."
Raghav clutched Dev's hand in an impulsive handshake, and sandwiched it with his other hand. "Thanks man, I am going to come to you for relationship advice," he said giving Khushi a side-eye.
Khushi let go of her chips packet, and wrapped her hands around Raghav's possessively. "Hey, you cannot steal my bestfriend!" She complained to Dev.
"I am not stealing your best friend."
"You just did..." Before completing her sentence, she'd to run to the bathroom, otherwise their couch would have bathed in a plash of her vomit. Dev tailed behind her to the bathroom to help her.
When she was back at the couch her face had visibly paled, and eyes were tired out.
"You okay?" Raghav asked gently.
Khushi nodded.
"Where's Dera?" Out of nowhere, he had asked.
Dev raised a brow at him. "It's been more than an hour since you came and you're noticing Dera's absence only now?"
Raghav ran a hand through his hair. "I was just preoccupied all this time, where's he anyway?"
"At my parents'," Khushi replied.
"Okay," he said, and got up from the sofa. "I think I will better leave now."
He thought they could at least rest of the day together without his pestering.
Dev looked at him directly. "You sure you don't want to stay for lunch?"
"Yeah, you told me you don't want to be alone at home without Himani, right, then why do you want to leave?" Khushi asked genuinely puzzled. "We're going to meet my Amma for lunch. You can join us."
It was true. He'd said that. He did not want to stay home alone, but right now he did not want to meet people and socialize either. Also, sticking together with Dev and Khushi on their off-day gave him a pang of remorse.
Raghav looked troubled having some serious speculation to himself. Khushi had a balmy, little smile when she'd seen him like that. "Do you need to go and hang out by yourself or something?" she asked. "And have some me time, you know?"
He seemed to be in it still, for another few seconds until he revived himself and gave a brief laugh. "Yeah, I am just going to do that."
For the first time since last week, Raghav felt like he was getting a touch of clarity.
Spending time with Dev and Khushi, and opening up to them seemed to have a favorable effect on him. Not only did it clear up a bit of haziness he'd been carrying around in his mind, it'd also energized him to the extent that there was no ifs and buts in his mind regarding his feelings for Himani.
He went home and did his laundry at first place—that he'd been successfully postponing to the point of not having anymore underwear to wear. And by the time he'd put the clothes to dry, time was well into noon.
Not wanting to spend the day just by sitting around, Raghav decided to drown himself in the pending work he had to work on. He had decided to skip lunch since his breakfast was heavy, and as a result his stomach started growling super early in the evening.
He ordered his food online, and locked himself in the bathroom to take a shower.
When he had stepped out of the bathroom, and started putting on his clothes, his phone went off.
He pulled up his track pants hurriedly, and rushed to the bedside table to answer the call. "Sir, this is Raj from Swiggy. I am here to deliver your food, where are you?" the delivery person spoke up.
"Just a sec," he told on phone, as he went to the door.
Raghav scanned for the delivery person in the stretch of street outside the house, and upon finding none, he told into the phone. "Inga yaarum illeye; neenga enga irukeenga? (I can find no one here, Where exactly are you, Sir?)"
"I am outside this big building," the other person said, "Door number 98/93, Luz church road, Mylapore."
Raghav slapped his forehead with his other hand, on how stupidly he'd ordered his food to his office address, when he was at home—several kilometres away from the said address—and very much hungry.
He then told the person to handover the food to their office security guard, and he'd get it from him in some time.
He decided he'd better pick up his sun-dried clothes, and water Himani's plants before he left home to collect his dinner. Just as he was returning to the door, his hands full of dried clothes dangling, he spotted Mythraeyi walking out to her balcony, and sit on the bamboo swing.
Raghav waved at her, with a smile.
"Hey," she greeted him, raising the coffee mug in her hand. "Do you want to come up for some coffee?"
Mythraeyi had invited Raghav over when she'd made Vadai, (upon hearing from Himani that it was Raghav's favourite), on one of those rainy evenings last week. He'd gone over, since he thought it wouldn't be polite to refuse. And, he couldn't erase the memory of how he almost blurted out a 'I miss her too—a lot, actually' when Vidhyut bit into his vadai, and mumbled, "I miss Himani!"
Raghav shrugged trying not to be awkward with a whole, different reel of movie going on in his mind. "I am actually heading out now," he said, making eye contact with her.
"Alright, carry on!"
"Bye."
***
Raghav felt real sluggish to limp through the rest of the week—for it was moving painstakingly slower than the first week.
On Wednesday, when he had gone to work after a couple days of his sick leave, he observed Anant Sir giving him a very phenomenal look. And that alone told him that the old man was aware of everything that was going wrong—or right, with him.
However, he'd managed to focus on work on and off, the day was still tiresomely lengthening.
On Thursday evening, when Raghav had come home early, because he was not in the mood to work further that day, he found himself dipped cross-legged in the living room's couch, with a bubble wrap he had in his hands, somewhere from his room.
He felt it was fairly satisfying than doing nothing at all.
The evening was moving snaillike, Indian soap-operas like—and the space was too quiet except for the popping of bubble wrap.
"Alexa," he called out, lifting his chin up to the TV table where the speakers were placed. "Play S.P. Balasubrahmanyam."
"Shuffling songs by S.P. Balasubrahmanyam," Alexa responded.
"Cool, thanks," he mumbled to himself, and downed his head to focus on popping the bubbles.
But the peaceful expressions on his face died away in a snap, when he realized what song it was playing.
"Kaadhalin deepam ondru etrinaaalae en nenjil. (Literally translates into, she lit a lamp of love in my heart.)"
He closed his eyes briefly, at it. "Yeah, I needed that, thanks, Alexa." He couldn't help the sardonic mutter.
Even the AI wasn't playing fair, when he was struggling with double truckload of emotions!
He stared into the wall across for the next few seconds, but when pallavi had ended, he'd commanded.
"Shut up!"
It, clearly, did not.
"Shut up, shut up, shut up."
What started as a command aggravated to a holler, not even realizing that he'd not said the name for the machine to actually stop playing the song.
It was still playing.
"Alexa, shut up!"
It then did.
And made him shake his head, and vent out a loud sigh.
He simply fixed his head back on the couch, his eyes settled on the ceiling fan, until he became aware of a familiar bike sound.
He turned doorwards lethargically, to find Varsha get off her bike, and stride in with a grocery bag in her hand.
"Cheta, How are you?" she asked, flaunting a huge smile. To be seen, he had not trimmed his beard; his hair was tousled with no recent evidence of brushing or trimming; eyes were sleepy with the usual spark in them missing, with a dull face. Varsha made observed it as she sat down next to him.
Raghav sobered up from his never ending deliberation, and sat up straight. "I am okay, how are you?"
"I am great, Cheta." Her response was nothing but exuberant. "You don't like eating alone, right? I had an off today, so I thought I could give you company for dinner."
"How do you know that I don't like eating alone?"
Himani had said that a long time ago, but she wouldn't tell him that. "You have told me, Cheta."
"Have I?"
"Yes."
He listened to her politely looking at her, and as his eyes descended to the bag she'd brought, Varsha lifted it to him. "Vegetables!"
He took a peek inside her grocery bag. On finding what seemed like a quarter kilo of brinjals, he looked at her straight, and his first remark was, "Himani is allergic to brinjals!"
Varsha raised her brows. "I know. But you love brinjals. I like them too. So why not cook when Himani is not here?" she enlightened.
Raghav gave her a skeptical glance. "Have I said that too?"
No. Himani had said that. But she'd probably slaughter her down, if she'd reveal it to him.
Varsha gulped, and pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "Yes." She managed a bumbling smile. "You don't remember many things you say," she added, rolling her eyes with a dash of complaint in her tone.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah!"
Raghav looked unsettled for a moment. "Hey, how do you know I am home?"
Varsha shrugged. "I don't know," she said with a head shake. She then produced a single key from her pocket. "I was going to come anyway. Himani had given me a key."
"Oh." He seemed convinced at the moment, but when he was about to start again, Varsha did not let him.
"Hey, why are you questioning me like endlessly?" Her agitated questioning, had luckily, stopped him. "You're a question bank or what?"
"Fine," he opted out. Varsha muttered a thanks, then again he added swiftly, "But one last question."
She cast him an infuriated glare. "What?"
Raghav looked back at her, hoping his doubt would relax her. "Did you talk to Himani?" he asked, giving his best naive smile.
Her brows squished together in an accusatory frown. "Why do you want to know?"
Raghav deterred his eyes away from her very icily staring ones. After taking a plentiful inhale of breath, he mumbled without making eye contact. "I miss her. It's been more than a week since I spoke to her."
"You miss her?" she couldn't help but jeer. She brought her hands to wrap around her bosom as if she was ready to rebel. "If that matters to you so much, why don't you call her yourself instead of asking me?"
For every response he was going to give, he'd thought she'd slacken down, but instead her ferocity was only inflating—which needed to be deflated, right away, for him to deal with her.
If she was going to be mad at him for nothing—and for his never ending questions—she might as well be resentful of his liking her friend. He decided he'd just tell her what's going on with him, so he could label a reason on her uncharted anger on him.
Raghav beheld her eyes directly. "See, I like Himani, okay?" His voice was tender and persuasive. "I really, really, really like her!" And the emphasis he'd put on his chain of really had smoothened Varsha's wrinkled temple.
Though it was not a total eye-opener or something—since she was pondering over his activity on the day from last week, when she was here—this was definitely big. There was a 'wow' that her mind mouthed to herself at the really thing—three were not bad, after all.
"What big surprise?" Uttered she, gaping at him without giving in. "You've always liked her as a friend."
"No!" His inveigh against it came out in a split-second. His eyes wide, and intent, he said. "I like her more than friends."
Varsha twisted her lips. "More than friends as in more than friends?"
Raghav moved his gaze to her for a fleeting second, and nodded. And then he consciously turned aside with a gentle smile.
There was a glorious dappanguthu that'd started with a smashing dandanakka music in the background inside Varsha's head. As she'd been having cues of it—not pronounced ones, but the ones that are intuitional without any reasons—she couldn't contain all the joy that warmed her heart in a big, wobbly smile—and also in shooing it away preprensely, before one guy could see it.
"Oh," Varsha hummed as if she was not really pleased with his confession. "But I thought you're not that type?"
Raghav furrowed his brows—how did she know about it!
"How do you know?" he asked without delaying.
Varsha looked over at him, in a quizzical glance. "Cheta, are you kidding me?"
"Do I actually look like I am even close to kidding?" Raghav looked dead-serious.
She was pulling his legs all this time and all that—alright, but what he was saying now was sheer nonsense. "Cheta, it was you who said that you don't do relationships and stuff," Varsha added fast and loud. "And now all of a sudden, you say that you like her, I mean, how can you not be kidding?"
"What! Did I really say that? When?"
He had said that in a casual conversation that no one would save in their minds forever—except Himani. Varsha could apprehend that now.
Her face was expressionless. "I told you, you don't remember many things you say." She was only bamboozling him with the line in the beginning, but right now she was being earnest.
Raghav buried his head in his hands, muttering something to himself—as it seemed to Varsha, muttering curses to himself. "Does that make me a hypocrite now?" he asked, lifting his eyes to her.
Varsha gave him an insightful smile, and shrugged. "I'd just put it as you're evolving."
Raghav could breathe a sigh of relief, hearing it from her. Also, couldn't help the little, brutal voice inside his head, because Varsha supporting him was an exotic circumstance.
Varsha, who was immersed in her phone for a couple minutes put her chin up, when he started again. "I know Himani had always seen me as a special one—which I had fancied as reliable friendship. But I ruined it myself by saying all those I've said." He closed his eyes briefly, and shook his head—and it really put him in a sympathetic state.
"Do you think she still won't laugh in my face if I told her I have feelings for her?"
"That," said Varsha with a sigh, "you'll have to figure out yourself, Cheta."
Raghav acknowledged it. "Right, I will do that myself. And for the question you asked me, I did try calling her thrice this week, but her number was not reachable." His voice was gruff with distress, he added, "Every single time!"
Varsha could understand his standpoint—she'd been there, too. "It's always like that when she goes to Thiruvaiyaaru. Network at her home is not really good."
"The only time the call was attended, it was not her—Aunty answered the call," he said, his voice thick with dejection. Raghav had already talked to Himani's Amma when he helped Mythraeyi get to the hospital—she had thanked him on the phone, the next day. So he casually greeted her, asked about Himani, and was told that she'd gone out and left her phone home. He raked a hand through his hair, and muttered. "I just wanted to hear her voice, but it didn't happen."
"You could've texted."
"I did."
"What did you tell?"
"You know last week when it rained here, I told her it was raining here," he said sincerely.
Varsha rolled her eyes at him. "You're saying you're interested in her, and sent her a text like a goddamn weather report?" She couldn't stop herself from being heavily bothered by it.
Raghav scowled. "I know how to talk to her, okay?" he muttered slightly flustered. "A week before she left, we were talking about rains. It's an inside thing. It's our thing, you wouldn't know."
Varsha picked her bag of vegetables and got up from the couch. "Fine, whatever. I will get on with cooking. Could you make a cup of coffee, though?"
"I didn't even make coffee for Himani in past two weeks; go away." He dodged it since he was upset over her comment on his text.
Varsha gave him a villainous smile. "Okay, don't make." She mumbled, "Himani said me that you make pretty good coffee, that's the reason I asked you in the first place."
"Did she really say that?" He asked brightening up. "What else did she say about me?"
Feeling very nefarious, she made a face, "Adhellaam ennaala solla mudiyaadhu, (I can't tell all that.)" And walked off to the kitchen.
Raghav followed her, earnestly. "Ippo ena coffee thane venum, naan potu tharen. (You want coffee, is it? I will take care of that.)"
"Go away, I don't want your coffee."
***
It was around half past two in the noon, on a Sunday, when Raghav's phone buzzed.
He was home, in his pajamas, reading a book in the place's grody silence, that he'd gotten used to by now.
"Hey." It was Varsha, greeting him in her usual animated voice. "Himani is coming back today. She just called me to say she's started an hour ago."
A small smile cleared up on his hazy face. "Great!"
"So she'd asked me to pick her up from the bus stand by tonight at 9," she said, as Raghav got up from his spot to walk out of his room. "Thought you might, like, want to go pick her up."
Raghav chuckled. "Thanks for being extra sweet. And, yes, I'd like to pick her up."
"Great, then just go to Koyambedu bus stand, and find where Thiruvaiyaaru buses come to halt." Varsha announced, feeling utterly delighted for Himani—also, hoped it wasn't creepy to send him.
As if he'd read her mind, Raghav's next question, stunned her. "Are you sure about letting me go, pick her? It won't be creepy, right?"
"I hope not."
"Okay," he agreed. "So what do I tell her if she asks why you did not come?"
"Just tell her that I am going on a date or something like that. I will manage it to her."
"Thanks, tonight at 9."
"Yes, tonight at 9. Play nice."
A/N:
First of all, thanks for not giving up on Raghav and Himani. Writer's block is real and so is laziness :P
So what do you guys think?
I am sorry if the chapter was exhaustingly lengthy, but I had to clear up what Raghav was up to:)
Yes, he did try to talk to her. And who knew network would play with his emotions. Signal problem is still there in many places in the world, so I hope that was not lame.
And Himani is allergic to brinjals. Yes, chefs do have food allergies.
Please do let me know what you guys think about the chapter in comments:)
Have a great week!