PEHLA PYAR

06 || pain ||

The storm has arrived with a gust of pain and grief, the wild hurricanes blasting as the realities clashes. The war has started as the realities of the present collides with reminiscences of the past. The conflict is rising outside and I was suffering inside as I stood under the cold shower.

The pink colour of my face is flowing as red stain washing away from my face, just like love washed away from me all those years ago, a decade ago, as I close my eyes with agony filled in them, my head leaned against those tiled walls. A love, no that was madness.

A madness that raised a war, a storm against the realities of the universe, an intoxication where I was too drunk to discern the truth, insanity I was engulfed in and he locked me there, for years, for an eternity.

That person with charcoal black eyes, tanned skin and a lean body was a part of the past who should never step into my present. It took me years to cross those lanes alone but a single glance and all my pieces shattered like broken glass, like broken trust.

The war which I thought had ended was only put on hold. And now with each passing second I closing to the battlefield. But the question lies, am I prepared for it? To face the battle of my heart and soul, my past and present. Am I equip for it? No, I am. Never will be.

Tragedies happen when you broke your heart at a young age, tragedies of betrays and broken families.

My eyes keep burning with those unshed tears as I stand under the shower still. My white dress sticks to my body like a second skin, and I am burning in the fire of rage. Anger of pain that he left behind, they left behind.

But my tears have dried for him, for them, for the past. Khwahish Raizada doesn't lose tears over the past anymore.

16th February

10.30 PM

I sit on the cushioned swing gathering my legs together, in the company of shimmering fireflies and chirping crickets. The breezes whispering sweet nothing near my ear as they dance crazily.

The war had subsided a little, the storm hadn't gone completely. A cup of tea on the wooden table as I look at the green lawn and lake past it. I sighed. I need to talk to Reyansh, but about what I don't know.

The din of steps and I close my eyes. Maa is here to talk.

"So, how was your day?" She takes a seat next to me.

Sometimes I look at her and think how time is passing. She is getting older, and even the thought of losing her one day brings bile to my mouth. I can't. Maa had been my sole support all these years, even now she is, it's just, there's this particular topic we don't talk about.

"It was good. I went to Basant Utsav." Amusement fills her face.

"You did? Wow, I thought I lost that part of your when you left for Mumbai." I laughed.

"Maa please"

"What please? Your Baba used to say how he misses you on those days." Baba. Another topic I don't want to discuss, but I have to.

"He was not as bad as you portray him to be, Aish" Maa said looking towards me, I shake my head as sip my tea keeping my gaze fixed at the mist slowly covering the lake, a mist of grief.

"I never get to know him enough to portray him as something."

"You knew him well, more than I ever did." True, and maybe that's why I feel this way for him.

"I don't know what I feel for him Maa."

"You know what you feel, he is your father."

He was my father, a good father who had given me everything, dresses, travels, life lessons, but one thing he didn't give me was respect. But he did in his last years, perhaps he was late.