Silent Hearts

5| Five

"He was her sun, her moon and all her stars, yet she couldn't see behind those dark clouds..."

***

Days passed, turning into a week. A week that went not so decently for Tushar Chatterjee. It was now again a Tuesday morning, with fairly bright sun rays peeking through the cotton-like clouds, setting alight the world in an abrupt glint, the shining arms of it dissipating ever outwards into the faded blue sky. The chirping of the birds that followed, was as pleasing as the lush leaves and as delicate as the plunging rays. Tushar tilted his head toward the first glimmers of the day, breathing in the morning, immersing himself in the oath a new dawn held.

Stretching and relaxing his muscles for the next few minutes, he stepped towards the windows. They were open. He must have had forgotten to shut them yesterday. Looking at the clock, he saw it was half-past six, he wasn't late, was he? He remembered that night days before, after whatever happened with Nandini and him, he had dinner along with her parents. Nandini never came down to dine with them, she had her food in her room, as always. Despite several attempts by uncle and aunt, he had politely told them about his work. He just couldn't stay that night...not beneath the same roof as her. And, at the moment, he couldn't help but think about his sudden decision.

He couldn't stay near Nandini Roy for more than a minute. How had, by God, he managed to stay that close to her? And how would he ever carry on with himself after marrying Nandini?

The next couple of minutes remained dull to him until Tushar went to take a bath. He had lived alone since he had lost his mother, and living secluded from the world outside, he had learned to care for himself because no one would ever do that for him. The Roy family was an exception and his love for the younger daughter of theirs had been another one. The beginning of his path to live alone had been tough, extremely. Not even his sister stood by him to guide him to a new path of happiness. She was there but he was still alone. From cooking the morning meal to the dinner, Tushar Chatterjee had learned it all. After all, he had to exist.

But now...how would he? His life was falling apart. His heart was being snatched away from him, the love his heart had held now was left vulnerable and lonely. His love had lost its home...its only meaning to prevail. Who said loving a soul was easy? It wasn't. It had never been easy. Love was a merciless feeling that would kill you over and over again...slowly, deliberately.

Tushar stared at his reflection in the mirror before him. This fogginess that surrounded his reflection told him about the mist of hatred shrouding his soul. It was caged and no one could ever look for it. His dark eyes looked straight, there was no spark there...no spirit. But didn't they say...love change you? Didn't it mean love brings a new passion to you? Then why was he different from the others? Why was the lord punishing him like this? What had he done to deserve something like this? Hadn't he had enough? Was the pain of losing his parents not enough that he had to lose his love too?

His eyes burned. Was he crying? Why? Men shouldn't cry. Men never cry. That was something taught to all the male in his society...then why did his heart tell him to shed a few tears? What could he do? A man who had lost everything couldn't lose his right to cry, too. So he cried. The tears fell down his eyes, combining with the water, taking out the hatred he had formed for a certain woman from his senses, his tears shedding, along with the seam of anguish he had shaped into him.

It was the tears that kept his soul breathing in the hearth of the pain at that moment. They couldn't destroy what had been the reason for his pain, yet only hold him up higher until the time would come when that searing pain would become foreign enough to forget more than remembering, and maybe one day erase itself from his mind. So perhaps it might be an oddity to thank his tears and be proud to cry, yet if that was what saved him from turning into a monster full of hatred, a person indifferent to mourning and sorrow, then crying was the wisest thing he could do.