15. I Hope You Have A Better Today
The ceiling fan's hushed circulation reigned over the dense stillness of the room, amongst the constant, distant buzzing of dutiful crickets, cicadas, and delighted toads from that evening's rains, piercing the quietude in the middle of the night.
A compassed half moon with a soft blur around it; a glut of stars flickering around shone, spreading their shy light across the sky—well visible from the half-open hardwood window of Raghav's room that he liked to shut right after six in the evening fretting mosquitoes—and, that he'd forgotten today, because of his late arrival and all that happened following it.
Flipped on his stomach, folding both of his arms, snugly tucking his fists under his hirsute chin, Raghav's restful face was meeting the warm white wall. His left leg was folded in, the hem of his cotton trousers raised over his bare knee, brushing lightly over the wall's smooth surface. His clean foot touched his other leg that laid straight, over which Himani's long legs were thrown—arched around the back of his shin in a slapdash mesh—keeping up the littlest closeness they could afford while sleeping in comfort.
Raghav shifted in his bed—which was only half-available for him at the moment—tossing to his back, in a mild stir when he felt the warm heft around his legs lift off. Which was followed by a berserk blow hitting his calf—sharp and forceful—making him sit upright, stupefied.
He kept blinking until he got rid of his sleep-hooded vision—to get a hang of what'd happened to him, with the background of mundane noise of the nocturnals.
Next to him, on the layer of crumpled, thin bedspread was Himani, her carelessly twisted loose bun untangled into a mop of curly hair, strewn over the cotton sheets of his spare pillow, her robed back against him and her legs coiled into her in semi-fetal position
Running a palm down his face, Raghav stretched his legs, planting both of his palms on either sides of him, reclining back and wondering if it was a dream. However, there was remnant of the pain in his leg—now, diffuse—reminding him it was not one.
With the feeble light seeping in little brighter than the usual on his face, Raghav fathomed he'd not shut his window. Not wanting to be charged by the mosquitoes and spend the rest of the night scratching the very unscratchable spots like the elbow joint and the gap between the fingers on his toes, Raghav stood up tossing his side of the bedspread—that'd do more than enough as a blanket for Madras nights—to shut the windows and hook them up.
When he'd slipped back into the bed, both of his hands hovered and clasped under his head, careful in not disturbing Himani, her legs unwound, stretching, her toes effectively hitting his legs in a cursory kick—again.
Raghav winced in swift pain and jerked to sit upright, his portion of the bedspread bunched up around his thighs, as he rubbed his calf muscles to ease off. He did not know how long he was awake, simply whiling away time, but when Himani's toe punched his calf again, he decided he'd wake her up and let her know what she was doing in sleep.
Squirming to her side restlessly, he tapped on her shoulder gingerly, calling her in his best, smallest voice, "Himani?"
He waited for a moment to see if she'd respond but she was consumed by heavenly slumber with soft snores escaping her slightly parted lips—not giving a damn about the actions of her killer legs.
Sitting up for better access, Raghav patted on her shoulder again, gently. Careful in not making her jump in sleep. "Himani... you're kicking me in sleep... Himani."
"I swear to god, Raghav, you wake me up one more time, I'd kick you out of the bed," was all he got, in her hoarse, groggy voice with a swat of his tapping fingers.
With a hugely evaded sigh, Raghav rolled back to his place, muttering, "You're already doing it, Himani."
Half-sleepy and half-annoyed, her voice thick with warning, Himani muttered, "Then I suggest you use the other bed in my room—that's totally empty."
Raghav turned to the flop on his stomach and wrapped his arm around his pillow. Watching her thick but unruly curls fluttering in the air, with one eye opened and the rest of his face mushed in his pillow, he replied casually as if they were having an actual conversation. "Illa illa, I can't sleep in a different place."
"As if you're able to sleep here?" Himani had sputtered busily and had slipped back into her sleep.
Next time Raghav woke up from sleep to an empty space next to him, time was around half past four in the morning. He sat up, discovering Himani had rolled down his floor bed, curled up, halfway across his room. The hues of sleepiness staying with him in his squinted eyes, a silly smile took up his mouth catching the sight of her bundled in child's pose in the middle of the room.
He got up from the bed to pad to her. All this, with an impromptu, sleepy smile, savoring her little quirks. "Himani, you rolled down the bed." His words came out in soft mutter as he squatted beside her. "Come back to bed."
After a few more times of patting her shoulder lightly, whispering her name, Himani answered him with a sigh, and rolled back to the bed.
Only this time, to the other side of the bed, next to the wall—on Raghav's wheedle-y insistence—telling her she wouldn't roll out of the bed, and even if she tried he'd barricade her in the open end.
When he'd slept back and woke up hours later, light from the sun was shimmering straight into his bed—mostly on his side. Deftly escaping the glossy heat, Himani was lingering to the wall, her forehead touching the smooth surface of it, her legs straight, stretched and one over the other, with the empty, crumpled waves of the bedspread stretching between them.
Raghav awoke wondering why was Himani still sleeping on a—he grabbed his phone from the stool (his nightstand) beside him to confirm the day—Saturday.
Time was half past eight. And Himani was sleeping on a day she normally worked.
Usually, she'd be racing around the house taking a bite of her breakfast from the kitchen counter, discarding the piths and skins of the vegetables and fruits she'd chopped, praying the load in her washing machine got done a bit speedily, or putting her clothes to dry on the clothesline in the back with dense locks of her perfectly moisturised hair falling on her face, whining to Raghav how she was going to run late.
If everything was done, she'd be in her room changing to work clothes—a regular pair of jeans with a plain or a printed cotton t-shirt.
And today, even after Raghav had quietly strode over to his bathroom to attend nature's call, brushed his teeth and exited—she was still sleeping—only now, she'd toppled to her stomach.
Deciding he'd wake her up, just in case she was working today, he reached her with reluctant steps.
At the gentle nudge on her arm, Himani turned around with a raise of her hand and stretched it over her head, finding Raghav hunched down at her.
"Hey." Raghav's greeting was warm and gentle. "Good morning."
Himani squinched at him drowsily, quite not in the state to accept it and greet back.
She sat up brushing her palm over the corner of her drool stained mouth, still blinking uneasily to get her vision accustomed to the brilliance of the morning.
"Good morning," she said, finally, rubbing her achy nape. "What time is it?"
Raghav, still squatting out of his bed and fiddling with his phone, looked up at her question and lowered his face again to his phone, murmuring, "Eight-fifty."
Himani thought she might've misheard it because of her impending sleepiness. "What?"
"Ten more minutes to nine," he said, this time looking into her bewildered, black eyes—that just dilated at the extreme apprehension happening in her brain.
"Fuck!" grunted Himani, slapping a palm on her face, irritated.
An unappreciative frown twined into his beard mazed face. "Not a very nice thing to say in the morning." He rose to his heels, dropping his phone into his pocket. "—or for that matter, at any time of the day."
"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" Himani grumb;ed, tossing the bedspread aside, making a very sensitive Raghav balk.
He eyed her consciously, whilst she stood up on her slightly wobbly knees, scraping her out of way curls roughly, with both of her hands to re-tie her bun.
At the moment, after having her inside his cozy room, in his bed, next to him, he just wanted to linger in that warmest moment for some time more (don't ask how much more? He wouldn't know!)—that had now become a thought, or a memory, his heart was fond of.
He did not know what made him utter those words, but he most definitely said, "Maybe you should take an off. It's the weekend anyway."
Himani sighed, pushing a stray of hair behind her ears and shaking her head. "I can't," she said, her lower lip pouty. "You wouldn't ask me to, if you knew about yesterday's story. I will tell you about it once I come back."
A little crack in her voice suddenly brought back a rife memory of teary eyed Himani with a face that was flushed from repetitively wiping her tears from last night. There must be something that'd gone wrong terribly at work, for her.
"Okay. I hope you have a better today."
***
Himani stepped out of her bathroom, changed into fresh clothes—a wrap around, cotton midi and an old, soft baggy t-shirt—that weren't meant to be worn for work; A few riotous curls from her top knot were slumped with the dampness in her nape, her khadi towel slinging on her shoulder.
Somewhere, in between the bucket and mug bath time that she'd had to rejuvenate herself, this thought had barbed her mind—that, maybe, she deserved this day off, after the unpleasant brawl her head chef had crashed on her, yesterday. And Himani did not keep quiet through it—as she usually was. When she stood up for what she believed and what was right, it was not the matter of right or wrong for her head chef, anymore. But of imposing his dominance and ego.
Clearing her head off of the thoughts that loomed on her, Himani pulled the wet towel from her shoulder, walking through the unbolted door of her humble backyard, to spread it on the clothesline.
And when she walked back to the living room, looking for the human existence that insisted she should take an off, she found Raghav standing on the small, square platform that stepped down to the narrow patio in the front. He was curiously looking out at the compound, leaning against a very boxy pillar, holding a half-empty packet of milk biscuits.
Himani ambled across him, brushing her wet palms over the run of her skirt. "Hey, what are you doing here?" Her cheerfully loud voice was a stark contrast to how she'd responded to his good morning.
Brought back from his thoughts, and as if he'd to cease something from happening, his hand came around to hold her by her wrist in an urgent motion, halting her from going further.
Himani looked up at his eyes, which were still scanning the compound wall. "What ra?"
Tugging at her hand softly, he said, "Don't go further."
Slightly bemused, and also wanting to know what he was upto, Himani stepped back, her shoulder grazing with his. As the fingers around her wrist freed themselves, to Himani's enormous awe, rose to shroud around her shoulder, embracing her dearly close.
And Himani's dear heart sped in its fluttering in such a way that she could catch the thumping in her throat, bringing up the warmly feeling back in her chest. Her own hand wrapped around his torso, reciprocating his tender gesture of endearment.
"Anga paaren! (Just look there!)" When his throaty murmur reached her with a whiff of his hot breath, Himani drew in a sharp breath to ascertain her enraptured self, while looking at the spot where his finger from the other hand pointed, still holding the packet of biscuits.
A mini flock of pigeons were perched on the compound wall in their uncertain, giddy feet, ready to fly away any moment, pecking down and nibbling on the biscuits that Raghav had broken into tiny pieces and fed them earlier, but still on a careful watch out for predatory approaches.
More than an off today, or more than anything—Himani thought—she deserved to watch this relaxing, uber cute sight, standing in the embrace of this silly, silly yet thoughtful guy.
Himani lifted her chin up to look at him. And when she saw him, still keenly watching the birds picking on their biscuits with his glossily brownish eyes, she wanted to lean in more and mutter an I love you.
Delighted at her hand around him, with a little swish of smile, he asked, "You want to say something?"
At his offhanded question, Himani had to smother her smile and an excited laugh by pressing her lips tightly. She then leaned in to rest her warm, plump-ish cheek on the sleeve of his shirt, inhaling a fresh gust of his scent—the same homey one that lulled her to sleep last night, and that was clinging to hers lovingly, right now, giving her the time to know its warmth by heart.
"Yes," she said, finally, confiding into his arm and still smiling. "You're a stupid, stupid man, Raghav."
Raghav nodded agreeing. "I know."
Too cozy to take her cheek away from his arm, Himani looked up at him, to ask the question that's been buzzing her since so long. "Why are you feeding them biscuits anyway?"
There was always a stock of bird food or some nuts in his room.
"The bird food I used to have got over." He looked down, to see her into her eyes for the first time ever since she walked to him. With a smile on his lips, he continued, "But then, just like everyday, these cute, little buggers were here in search of food. Can't disappoint them. So, biscuits."
And, just like this, over a month ago when he was out of bananas to feed the cow that always wandered through their street, he had fed a packet of kadalai mittai (peanut candies) to her. The cow had munched on it with utmost mirth, and had returned with a couple other cows (probably, her friends) the next day to munch on more of it. From then, refilling the stock never slipped his mind, as much as Himani had observed.
Himani laughed in reminiscence. "Yeah, biscuits for birds, kadalai mittaai (Peanut candy) for the cows... you're going to make them all either sick or spoilt brats."
"I thought of knocking on your door, asking for some pulses or nuts for them. But you were running late..." As he got into the detail, some wild realisation blinking in his hazy brain, he shrieked, breaking their leisurely, a bit dreamy chat. "But, hey, you were running late!"
Himani jumped, unwrapping her hand from his waist, at the cautionary raise in his voice.
After having retrieved his hand from her shoulder, Raghav rubbed his forehead slightly flustered at his own behavior. It was personally imperative for her to be punctual at work. And here he was holding her back from rushing to work on a brash morning, which she might not feel good about.
His face began to turn bleak in panic. "I will drop you at work." Words came out in haste, while he roughly rubbed his temple again. "I am sorry for holding you up."
Wondering from where did this odd panicking ability flared in him, she touched his shoulder blade lightly, letting out an amazed, faint laugh. "Chill, Raghav. I decided I'd take off long back. I came here to tell you I wasn't going to work today."
Raghav's anxiously narrowed brows raised in unison, flummoxed at her words. "What happened?" he asked, letting go of the tension in a small laugh. "Why?"
Himani raised her brows, mimicking his expressions, which made him only smile more charmingly. "Let's just say you have a bad influence on me."
"Hey!" he protested, sincerely. "What? No! Seriously, I wished you'd wind down and take rest. You were so upset last night, Himani." The protest had toned down to soothing towards the end.
Himani looked away for a troublesome instant, drawing in a long breath to set right her hive of thoughts.
"I really don't want to go to work today." Her words came out in a woeful mutter, after having raised her eyes to his that were all hearts. "Sometimes I just need to prioritise my emotional wellbeing before my job, even though I love it more than anything," she said, a wistful smile taking up her lips. And declaring her innermost feeling which she'd known for years and years but still hesitated to work on, she paused her breathless talking.
Raghav noticed the distress in her eyes, and the heaviness in her chest that they implied. Giving his shot in making it better for her, he took her hand in his tender hold. Himani's apprehensive but bleary sight strayed down to take in their hands in each other.
"And the problem is not your job." He sounded so confident, that it made a drop of tear blurring her sight roll down, when she looked up at him. "It's just your workplace and a few colleagues that are toxic. That's wearing you down."
With all the hotly rushing tears she was trying to withhold making her small chin tremble, Himani was unable to see his face clearly. Still it put a smile on her face, and she nodded in affirmative."Right."
Holding the smile right there, he brought his other hand to fondle over hers, and held it within his. Lifting his earnest eyes to her, Raghav said with some emphatical calmness in his voice, "Himani is important to Himani more than anyone, anything in this world."
"That's right!" muttered, Himani, wiping her other palm on her soggy face. "And, I need to remember it."
Raghav smiled big and full. "You better do!"
"I am trying my best," mumbling, Himani pointed a finger at the half-empty biscuit packet in his hand. "So why are you keeping it?"
Raghav's eyes downed to his hand along with her pointing finger. "Oh, I am saving these for the squirrels," he answered, sincerely. "If I put these now, birds will complete it and the squirrels won't have anything to eat."
Himani shook her head dismissively at his earnest reply, and turned around to walk in. "Fine. I am going in for breakfast."
"Hey, wait, I need breakfast too, Himani!"
After pigeons padded afar and then flew away, Raghav had scrambled into the garden area to reach the compound wall to plop the packet of broken biscuits. Traipsing back, he chose the same spot as before to linger around until the squirrels arrived for their customary brekkie.
When all of this was over, Raghav sauntered into the living room, crushing the empty biscuit packet in his hand into a ball.
P.B Srinivas's kaalangalil aval vasantham was wafting over to him, the gentle music of the song filling the space. Along with it was Himani's casual hum of the song in her mellowed voice waltzing around giving him an amused smile.
Flinging the wrapper into the waste bin, Raghav rushed and poked his head inside the kitchen to have a look.
Himani was bent over the kitchen sink, arduously employed with the unwashed vessels in it, and so mellifluously singing along, astonishing him more.
The gentleness in her voice tempting him to luxuriate in it, in full, Raghav quietly sneaked back to the living room, and reduced the volume of the device that welcomed her voice more.
He even doubted if she'd stop singing abruptly, just as he gradually lessened the volume. But Himani had other plans.
Holding onto it so righteously, she was humming, effectively living it up the tunes.
And somehow, it showed that she was in her best mood. Raghav had been with her in her best mood ample times but never once had he seen her happily, following her favorite song, singing, nevertheless heartily bursting into one.
Raghav found his way back to the kitchen, clapping his hands appreciatively.
"Wow," he gasped, as he walked to Himani and leaned over the cabinet just next to her but facing the other way so that they could see each other. He then said, the awe in his voice still highly intact, "I have never heard you sing. Thought you were a compulsive non-singer."
Himani sniggered at his newly formed term. "Yes, I am," she admitted, lifting the pressure cooker from the sink, placing it on the brink and scrubbing it.
"But you sing so well! Everything was just so accurate." Raghav shook his head unbelievably. Marvelled at it, he then said, his words breathy in appreciation. "You sing so well. Really."
Himani craned a bit to peer into his wide eyes, and raised an eyebrow at him, in smooth deftness. "I am from Thiruvaiyaar. What do you expect?"
"Yeah, right," he agreed, as he folded his arms across his chest, still reclined on the cabinet. "But, leave singing, I have never ever seen you doing a careless hum."
Himani held on to his gaze that slightly, aptly narrowed when he uttered the last part. Without taking her eyes off his, she nodded. "I don't sing," she affirmed, rinsing the lathered pressure cooker under the tap.
Briefly letting his eyes move away along with hers to the running water, his complaisant eyes returned to her face. "Oh, what happened?"
Himani lunged forward to grab the kitchen towel to wipe her wet hands. "It's a cheerless story, nevertheless, do you want to listen?"
Raghav shrugged. "As long as you want to talk about it."
Letting out a deep sigh, Himani turned around completely to face him. "So, I was a reserved, a bit anxious seven year old, when I started taking my music lessons. My music teacher was an extraordinary singer but a stern, rude teacher," she started on her elaboration. "She used to punish us severely even if we made small mistakes. And once, I got punished for not memorising the swaram of a geetham."
At the rate Himani's voice was growing grave, Raghav's eyes softened with concern. She continued, but in a stoic voice as if it didn't even hurt her anymore,"She trashed me infront of all the students. Told me many horrible things like I am not worthy enough to learn music from her—and students like me are a disgrace. Made me stand out of her house for the whole two hours."
Raghav felt some unfamiliar, disgusting feeling towards the teacher who did so. She'd no right to utter such terrible things to anyone, let alone to a seven year old girl. He exhaled the breath he was holding onto, as his eyes had watered a bit. "No one deserved to hear words like that. I am so sorry you had to." His words came out in a warming whisper.
A tight, perceptive smile laced her lips, as she went on, "I was already a constrained kid—I used to be too quiet and only talk when it's necessary. I always became nervous before the music class, not only because I had to have the energy to actively participate in singing in front of others but also of the need to please my teacher. I went home frightfully disheartened by her words and was down with a fever for a week." Holding her breath for a stinging instant, she said, "And then I never sang again."
"No one should be treated the way she did you. It must have been immensely hurting and abhorrent," Raghav said, catching her shiny eyes in a gingerly gaze. It was no wonder she didn't want to sing again.
Himani smiled again, but this time a little more generously. "You know what?"
"What?"
"The first thing I told myself when I decided I'd teach cooking was to not be one such teacher to my students," she said in a go as if that was the biggest lesson she learnt—and it twisted Raghav's heart. Lessons were not meant to be learnt like that—traumatically.
Himani's throat itched with the threat of storming tears as she stuttered, "Sometimes, I used to think Hrutvi is so similar to my younger version—just like how silent I used to be, just like my mama, unlike other children that were bundles of enthusiasm and how everyone outside my own family pointed it out as if something was wrong with me."
Raghav kept looking at her, processing her words about the comparison between her and Hrutvi. It seemed like a superficial thought but he doubted if she was subtly hinting that, it was because of her own nature, that'd been passed down from her mama, Hrutvi was also quiet and reserved by nature and had selective mutism.
Raghav shook his head, quite not okay with what he perceived. "That's the pressure parents or others put on kids who are quiet by nature, Himani. I can understand that you find similarities between you and Hrutvi, but look at both of you," he said, ending his sentence abruptly, astounded.
"What's there?" Himani asked, slightly snapping, too impatient to wait.
Raghav took hold of her hands in each of his, as he muttered, "What your music teacher told you wasn't okay. She should never have said those things to you—or for that matter, to anyone. But, despite it, did you introspect how beautifully you've worked on your innermost anxious thoughts, Himani. You teach people a life skill. You interact with so many strangers, clarifying their doubts regarding the food they make. Heck, you kill it, being the only woman in a kitchen filled with egoistic, insensitive men!"
When he'd said it all with breathless haste, looking into her water pooled eyes, Raghav took a moment. A moment to look closer into her eyes, to take in the tiny smile that'd resurfaced on her face, and to hold on to her calloused hands with more gentleness, he muttered, "I am so, so proud of you, Himani."
Himani smiled a very teary smile. "Yeah, yeah, I am proud of myself too," she then said in a moment, with a mischievous glint in her eyes.
"Ofcourse!" Raghav cooed. "That should be there. And, proud of Hrutvi too. Sometimes what she speaks and how she sees things amaze me. Honestly, I don't remember having such rich perspectives in my childhood. All we used to do was to play, eat, go to school and repeat. For an eight year old, she's so phenomenally cooperative of her therapy and willing to give her best in everything she does. Really."
Himani gave him a comprehensive nod. "That's true, Raghav. She's a fighter," she said, shambling towards the refrigerator. "I am too hungry to have coffee now. Shall we have breakfast first and then have coffee?"
Raghav craned his head towards the exit of the kitchen, towards the fridge's opened door, where Himani was tucked to retrieve the dosa batter. "Sure," he shouted, looking her way. "What did you eat last night?"
Himani got hold of the large Tupperware of dosa batter, stood straight, and shut the refrigerator door by giving a slight bump on it with her bum. "I didn't eat last night. That's why, I am famished right now," she said, scrunching her nose.
Raghav frowned. "I understand you were dismayed about what happened at work," he said, softly, "but if you had told me, I'd have brought a take out for both of us, Himani."
"I did not have an appetite last night," Himani mentioned, placing the Tupperware on the cabinet. Turning to him with a playful twinkle in her eyes, she stuck her tongue out. "Plus, I had ice cream!"
Raghav gave her a grim look. "Yeah, yeah. That's what people eat as supper."
"Stop being such a spoilsport," she complained, her eyes narrowed accordingly. "Eating whatever you want is the best part of adulting, don't you agree?"
And when he nodded, relinquishing, and she had set the cast iron dosai tawa on the stove, Raghav squealed, eagerly, "I will make dosai for you. You eat first."
Himani looked puzzled at his offer. She'd never let someone else engage with her iron cast dosai tawa, let alone an amateur like him. However, her hunger pangs were starting to get intense. And somehow the fact that she was going to be next to him to supervise how he'd treat her tawa persuaded her.
Handing over the flipper to him, Himani spun around. "Fine. I will go get thakkali thokku (tomato pickle of sorts) from the fridge."
Walking away, and opening the fridge, she heard the scalding sound of dosai batter being poured on the tawa, followed by his gruff laugh. "Himani, I am making you amoeba dosai."
Rearranging the edibles in the front row of the refrigerator, to get hold of the pickle bottle at the back, Himani snorted. "Such innovation. Much wow."
Raghav's distant voice came over, again, as he dripped a few drops of oil around the unshapely dosai. "Hey, now I think you're going to get a scrambled dosai," he said, watching one side of the dosai sizzle and cook, analytically.
"You won't scramble the dosai, Raghav," she responded, still rummaging through her fridge. "Mine is a well seasoned tawa, don't you worry!"
Himani returned to the kitchen with a chilled bottle of thakkali thokku. She grabbed a plate for her from the plate stand, placed it on the cabinet, then scooped a couple spoons of the thokku and dropped it on her plate.
When Himani had eaten to her fullest, they exchanged their equips, as Raghav jumped up to sit on the cabinet holding out his plate.
"I thought all of us could have lunch together," Himani said with little bit of hesitance, flinging a thin, crispy dosai on his plate, and giving him a transitory glance. "Since Mythu is leaving for a week-long trip tonight."
Just when Raghav had nodded yes to it, and popped a piece of thokku smeared dosai into his mouth, his mobile vibrated in his pockets. Keeping the plate on the cabinet, he fished for his phone. The display read, Vidya.
Raghav slid the call to answer. "Hey, Vid. What's up?"
Vidya grumbled. "Someone forgot the decency to call back after seeing the missed call notification."
Then it occurred to Raghav that when he'd insistently shuffled back into his room after telling Himani he could hold her, he found a missed call from Vidya on his phone. And he was not very much in the position to call back.
Raghav chided himself for doing it. "Sorry, Vid. I was..." he looked at Himani, who was busy scrolling through comments on her newest post on Instagram with eyebrows knit together in concern. "I was... a bit caught up," he said, his heart beats getting peppy at it.
Vidya smothered a laugh. "Hey, were you caught up with your girlfriend-to-be?" Her voice was too nefarious to shield up her indication.
And next to him was Himani, oblivious to his heart's thumping, solemnly flipping the dosai and tossing it on his plate.
He was sure he was going to be roasted with ridicule on Monday, when he went to work. He answered her, after much contemplation, "Yes."
"Oh, Is she next to you right now, Raghav?" Vidya asked, not wasting a second. And her tone was not trustworthy. Not even one percent.
Raghav gulped feigning he was cool. "Yeah."
"Wow, this is so much fun," mumbled, Vidya, enthusiastically. "So, what's her name, again?"
Raghav sighed. "You know, there's a special place in hell reserved for people like you," he whined, narrowing his lips with the smile coming over.
Uncontrollable laughter hurling down in her belly, Vidya screamed, "I know that! Now that she's next to you, please tell me her name!"
"I will text you," Raghav said softly, which only sounded like, 'I haven't asked her to be my girlfriend yet. Please have mercy on me."
"Okay, chill. I won't trouble you anymore for today," she said, finally letting go of it, and Raghav could breathe relievedly. "I called you last night to ask for Mythraeyi's contact number. I had something to tell her about tonight's journey. But, nevermind, I got it."
Hanging up on Vidya's call, Raghav instantly grabbed his plate to complete his breakfast, hoping his heart beats would settle down to normal. But Raghav's heart, being the rebel that was, carried on with its boisterous thuds. Totally muted by it, Raghav focussed on completing his breakfast.
Himani flung his final dosai on his plate and switched off the flame. Standing right next to him, scrolling through her phone with one hand, and biting her lower lip in the quest for something in the rough scrolling, she declared, "I am going to prep mild flavored lunch that won't harm her stomach during travel."
****
At five in the evening, on herding her kids out of the door, Mythraeyi shut the door and bolted it.
The kids sprinted down to the ground floor where they were going to live for the next week, before Mythraeyi walked down in slow slumps, her well stuffed rucksack strapped on her back.
Reaching Himani's living room, she placed her rucksack against the wall, dropped her keys in the key bowl, and wandered into the kitchen to find Himani.
"The kids brought down all the things they might need for school," Mythraeyi said, making Himani turn around and face her. "I have dropped my keys here, so any of you can make use of it, if you need anything."
Raghav, who'd just disconnected a call, reached them in slow strides, telling, "Point duly noted!"
Mythraeyi swayed towards him, with a heart full of gratitude. "Thank you so much for doing this, Raghav."
He was the one to insist her to take a break. There had been many times in the past, Himani had encouraged her to take one, but Mythraeyi never had the heart to leave both of her children alone with Himani, amidst her hectic schedule.
Now that Raghav was here, Himani discussed about it with him, on who would take off or how they could manage to be home when the kids came from school, since there were only three days that school functioned on that particular week. When both of them talked Mythraeyi into it, it did not take more than twenty minutes to get her to agree to it.
Raghav waved a hand at her. "It's my pleasure."
"I hope they trouble you less."
Mythraeyi's uptight mutter, mustered all the attention from both of her kids, as they looked up at each other, a bit playfully.
Raghav gave a pat on Vidhyut's shoulder. "Enna da, unga Amma va vitutu iruka maatiyaa? (Won't you survive without your mom for a week?)" he asked, scanning their faces.
"We will." It was Hrutvi that replied determinedly, and passed a referring glance over to her twin.
As if it was his cue to continue, Vidhyut pushed his glasses up and asked, "Can we have Dera over for a week?"
Confounded by her kids' request, Mythraeyi gaped at them.
Raghav studied Himani's face, who was in turn looking at him for answers.
Hrutvi's tiny, gullible eyes narrowed pleadingly at him."Please, Raghav."
And she knew she had him at it.
Raghav laughed breathily, apprehending how effortlessly he was giving in, just looking at their ingenuous, juvenile faces. "Okay, I will ask Khushi aunty for it."
Hrutvi inhaled a surprised, sharp breath, squealing, "We will talk to her, we will talk to her."
"Yes, we will talk to her," Vidhyut joined.
Watching the three of them converse in puppy eyes and cute obligations, Mythraeyi cut in, "Not today, kids. Raghav will ask Khushi aunty and bring in Dera tomorrow."
Himani shook her head in amusement and looked at Raghav. "I don't think Khushi can refuse them."
****
The next day, Himani woke up, way before her routine.
Next to her, sprawled spaciously were Hrutvi and Vidhyut on their stomach.
Himani watched their peaceful faces for a slow, lengthy minute before rising to her feet. Smoothening her disorderly hair with her fingers and tying them in a topknot, she grabbed her bedsheet and folded it neatly.
Once done with her morning duties, when she opened her room's door to step out, the living room's light was bright and glowing, astounding her.
More astoundingly, Raghav was perched on the sofa. His legs were crossed, his elbows were planted on each of his thighs, his head downed in the cup of his palms.
At the click of the door he just heard, Raghav upped his head to look towards the hallway, where Himani was standing, her fingers curled around the thin wall of the shelves.
Standing at a considerable distance from him, Himani couldn't clearly see if his eyes were really watered or if it was an illusion. Puzzled, she shambled across the pathway, her concerned peer on him getting more and more intent.
And he was sitting there, just staring back at her and gulping his ungodly whimspers in such a way that his mildly visible Adam's apple was bobbing up and down. His eyes were washed with sleepless reddish hues, and were tired from all the tears swarming in them.
He'd been crying.
Himani's breathing mounted haggardly, as her heart pounded in her chest like someone was tramping in it continuously, without moving.
"Raghav," she called him, softly. "What happened? Have you not been sleeping?"
The instant her words came out in a soothing octave, the welled up tears surged down in a warm trail. Raghav flicked his upper arm over his cheek, the sleeve of his shirt wiping his tears away.
Himani touched his shoulder lightly, making him look up at her, his eyes were exhausted with a sheen of tears. As if her touch had strummed a particular piece of his heart, that no one had ever had done before, a fresh rush of tears poured down.
"Himani, Amma..." was all he said, in a scratchy, low voice that made Himani's heart wrench in empathy.
Himani did not know what she could possibly say to someone who was grieving in the memory of their loved one—perhaps, nothing could be told.
She could just be there for him, instead of telling anything. And if she was going to be there for him, might as well gather him up in a tender embrace and hold him in a long, long hug.
"Do you want a hug?" she asked without delaying.
At his nod, Himani gently removed his planted elbow away from his thighs, indicating she was going to sit on his lap. Just like an abstracted action, Raghav's legs unwound. The second his feet touched the floor, with a gentle hold around the soggy sleeve of his upper arm, Himani sat down on his lap.
The erratic rate of her heart beat dazing her, Himani took a moment to look into his jaded, watery eyes, sorrowing over an irrevocable loss. She inhaled a deep, long breath trying to calm down her heart, and widening her arms to scoop him up—dearly and tightly.
Raghav leaned into her arms, wrapping his arms around her so that her shoulder cradled his sniveling face. Her chest trembled taking in his soft sobs, as she kept rubbing his back in smooth circles, and swaying in slow, pacifying motions.
After many, many minutes, without taking her arms off or breaking the hug, Himani asked, tenderly, "Do you want some coffee?"
He'd not slept through the night—she knew. But a coffee might be the best consolatory beverage one could have after one such vent.
Raghav nodded, the tips of his beard pricking her shoulders—partly, on her skin, being ticklish and partly, over the cloth of her t-shirt.
Himani retrieved herself from the long, long, tight, treasure-worthy hug, giving him an assuring smile. "Give me ten minutes." Placing a hand on his shoulder, she stood up and ambled to the kitchen.
When she came back with two tumblers of steamy, hot coffee with crowns of froth, Raghav had leaned back on the sofa, resting his head on the hand rest and his legs dangling over the other hand rest. His arm was tucked over his eyes, blinding the light, his other palm resting on his abdomen that rose and fell appropriately with each breath he took. And he seemed to have slipped into a deep, tranquilizing slumber—in the twelve minutes Himani spent making coffee for both of them.
Leaving both the tumblers on the teapoy across the sofa, deciding not to wake him up, Himani went across the hallway to his room to find a blanket for him.
On his bed, straggled loosely, was his mother's sungudi saree that he used to snuggle to sleep. Himani picked it up and readjusted the folds long enough to wrap him up. She then walked back to the living room, spread the saree over a deeply asleep Raghav, and turned off the lights.
A/N
Glossary: Thiruvaiyaaru is a place in South India that's renowned for its musical glory.
Hey, guys! How are you guys holding up?
Doing anything productive has become a herculean task for me since the past few days. Somehow managed to finish this chapter. Hopefully, it's upto the mark.
If you liked this newest update, please do vote, comment, and share the story with your friends.
Love,
Omahazeeya