When The Heart Lies | ✓

[19]

Loud music, bursting of crackers, laughters and gossips—every home was full of happiness and lights tonight.

But there was one home without all of it. No light, no laughters and no music. It didn't even seem like his own home. After all, festivals are celebrated wholeheartedly. What would be the meaning of showing off when whole Delhi was aware of the crisis, Malhotras were going through?

Shrey was sitting quietly in his bed room, looking around and noticing the things that he had thought he would never see again. There was so much silence in the whole house that it was killing him. But this was the silence that could help him in thinking of what he had to do of his drowning life.

One part of his heart didn't even care about it anymore when he had already faced the path of death. He had reached that state of mind where he was able to give up his life. He had reached a mental level where he couldn't care anymore.

But now one part of his heart was revived by some unknown energy. One part of his heart was making him realized that he was lucky to left alive and start a new. But how he could do that when all those old demons were pulling him back in his old life.

How were those days when he couldn't even think of spending leisure time at home and now, here he was sitting quietly on his bed while thinking of this rebel part of his heart.

He shifted his legs, leaning more on the pillows while putting his arm under his head. A loud voice of a cracker echoed throughout and he cursed at the neighbours. Despite having a big house, he was able to hear it all clear and loud.

But what could he even do about it? People were happy and celebrating. Unlike him who had found a new purpose in life and that was to mourn his stupidity again and again.

"Shrey," a sudden knock was heard and he gulped. The door was open and it was told to be so because behind this door was living a man who was suicidal.

"Come in," he replied, watching his mom enter into his room, looking around curiously and then back at him. He hated how she wasn't wearing any make up on this night of the festival and was actually celebrating this going hazard in their family.

"What are you doing?"

He looked away, sighing tiredly when he saw a glass of milk and plate full of some sweets in her hands. "Nothing at all."

His mother sat on the bed, placing the plate right in front of him. He frowned, "This?"

"Isn't it Diwali tonight? Just like we didn't stop worshipping that God. We won't stop enjoying having a new hope, Shrey." His mother smiled.

He swallowed, feeling angry at her pretending that this all could be tackled by praying and worshipping. Hadn't he done all that before dying? Hadn't he done when those bastards were giving him pain? He shook his head.

"I lit those lamps because you told me to not lose faith in God," he told her. "But eating sweets and pretending that there's even a little amount of sweetness in my life, I can't do this."

He watched his mother breathing shakily at his words. "From so many days, you are eating medicines. Won't you like to taste any of them? Kaju katli, your favorite? Not even from my hands?"

He rolled his eyes and slowly moved his face ahead, taking the sweet into his mouth from her hand, making her smile finally. "Happy?"

"Very much," she giggled. "Here's your glass of milk which you can drink with your medicine after five minutes when it's get normal enough. It's hot right now."

Shrey nodded quietly, waiting for her to leave so he could again have his peace. Just by seeing any of his family members, all those moments would come back to his mind. Their eyes full of pain and pity would tell him that this wasn't over. In the eyes of people, he was still the rapist.