Aashiqui - Winner's Anthology

The Light

Here's the winning entry for our November Prompt - Deepavali- in our monthly contest series "Mohabbatein". Have a look at the entry that stole the show this month.

Here's "The Light" by Shreya_VA 

"You look good."

I didn't turn around. The voice was familiar — too familiar. I heard a rustle of starched fabric and the familiar smell of cologne. I drew a deep breath and picked up a pinch of the red powder from the tray and carefully reached across the elaborate rangoli design to the white flower in the centre. I rolled my fingers letting the soft colours fall steadily in the centre of the design.

My hands were unsteady and some red slipped onto the white petals, glaring at me like bright red speckles of blood. My wrists itched from the scars I hid beneath embroidered cuffs and long sleeves.

How much time had passed since —

An army of images whirred in my memory. The unmistakable stink of alcohol and bone-crushing grips, rough hands and broken mirrors, blood on the bathroom tiles — my wrists —

"That's a beautiful design."

The same familiar rush of warmth welled up in my heart at the little compliment. Unbidden tears sprung up suddenly and I blinked them away. Not today. I won't cry on Diwali.

I've cried in his arms every night while he sat patiently through it all, rocking me to sleep. Little did he know that I pretended to fall asleep just so he could get rest. Every night he tucked me in bed safely and pressed a kiss to my temple as if making sure I was with him for real. And then he would curl up on the sofa, always on guard.

I lay awake in bed most nights, hearing his comfortable snores till exhaustion dragged me into a dreamless trance.

I poured oil into a diya and let the wick soak up before grabbing the matchstick

"You call this beautiful?" I tried a small smile, striking the match. "Any five year old could do it." The match didn't light.

"You aren't any ordinary kiddo." He grinned, his moustache twitching slightly as he snatched the match and struck it. Flames burst from its tip.

"I'm twenty-seven and divorced, not the ordinary kiddo indeed." The laugh that escaped from my lips was full of contempt for myself and maybe a hint of regret.

His brows tightened as he carefully held the fire to the wick. There was something dangerous in the stormy depths of his eyes when he spoke."If I had my way, you'd be widowed."

I shuddered at the thought. Aniket was a peaceful guy, but for me, he could go to any extent. I believed it wasn't a false threat. I knew it took everything in him not to go punch the wits out of Arko that day when he found me on the bathroom floor with shards of glass strewn all over. I had shattered the mirror in my desperation, searching for anything that could've gotten me out of my misery.

But I had chosen the wrong path. The look in his eyes that day made me realise there were other choices I could make, choices that could change my life, choices that I should've made long back, but for my freedom being curbed by society and my own family.

"It was a mistake, marrying him..." I sighed, rubbing my temples, realising a bit too late that there was colour on my fingers and my forehead must be a smudged mess by now.

"You were forced by your family. This is India, where families marry rather than people," he replied stonily, the flames dancing on his irises as he stared at the diya.

"But the fact that he turned out to be such a—"

"Abuser," he said slowly, "Face it Meera, that's what he was. Domestic violence is so common these days because women never speak out."

I stifled a sob.

He scuttled closer and placed an arm around me. His skin was warm and the comfort of that hug seeped through my skin and set my nerves alight.

" We are educated people, Meera, " he continued." If we don't protest, imagine the plight of the thousands of helpless illiterate wives that face this every day."

"Hmm," I mumbled, sinking into his chest as he gently brushed the colours from my face and kissed the top of my head.

"I will file a case," I whispered.

Aniket sat up straighter. "You will?"

I nodded. "The divorce wasn't mutually amicable as his lawyers claim. Domestic violence is a crime and he—"

"Is a criminal," Aniket pursed his lips into a thin line. I knew that expression too well. He was in deep thought.

"But he is a rich man," I sighed, standing up. "What are we against him?"

"Never underestimate the strength of us middle-class people." A faint smile was tugging at the corner of his lips as he jumped up on his feet. "Once the offices open up, I'll see what we can do." The promise in his words was palpable.

I relaxed my arms and let him hold me again.

"These jhumkas look good on you," he commented, lightly flicking them.

They jingled with a melodious sound. His fingers accidentally brushed my neck. I drew in air sharply. His fingers froze, waiting for me to shrink away, to pretend to get busy, to do what I usually do when these moments build up between us.

But this time I didn't move away. Instead, I turned my face towards him and placed a hand on the side of his face, letting my fingers linger over his soft cheeks and the unruly beard he always refused to trim.

I felt my heart beginning to constrict, to shy away from this connection that I felt.

"Don't fight it," he breathed. "Your feelings are valid, let them out."

I leaned forward, till our foreheads touched, letting that familiar connection buzz through me.

"We had done this countless times, Aniket. Why is it so difficult now?" His lips were just an inch away and they looked as inviting as I remembered them from two years back.

"Just because you blocked the tunnel doesn't mean the light can be stopped. The light will seep in through the cracks in the boulders —" his hands snaked around me, saree and all, dragging me even closer. "— love is that light, that spark. The connection we forged for so many years."

His lips seized mine suddenly, soft and eager and I felt that familiar connection open up again. And as our lips glided in a familiarly choreographed dance, I knew I was giving our love another chance to breathe. The boulders were crumbling and the light was flooding in, the light of love, of happiness and hope, of contentment and a thousand other infinities.

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