Living In Oblivion

55

Avanti sat on the lowest stair, her eyes fixed on the illuminated lights above her. The brightness filled the void within her, momentarily overshadowing the hollowness she felt. Diwali brought back memories of her childhood, when she would celebrate with her mother and sister, feeling safe and cherished. Those memories now felt both empty and heartwarming.

Dressed in a simple orange saree, Avanti looked exquisite, despite feeling pale on the inside. Although Divit tried his best to make her feel at home, she couldn't shake off the feeling of being forced and unwanted. She felt like a disruption in their togetherness. For years, she had celebrated festivals on her own, forgetting how to truly celebrate with others.

Being in Divit's home now, witnessing the family's joyful Diwali celebrations and their welcoming attitude towards her, she felt out of place— she felt overwhelmed. It didn't feel like her rightful place to reside in. Surprisingly, Gayatri had been stoic, never insulting or demeaning her. She hadn't asked about Avanti's past or hurled insults at her. Gayatri's silence intimidated Avanti, making her feel clumsy and unable to think clearly whenever she was around.

Lost in her thoughts, Avanti absentmindedly scrolled through her phone, replying to the Diwali wishes she received throughout the day. She admired the Rangoli drawn at the entrance, capturing a few pictures of it before setting her phone aside. There was still time for Diwali Pooja. Gayatri and Sanjay had gone to the nearby temple to light diyas in bulk, while Divit and his brother were in their room.

Avanti sighed, finding solace in the occasional silence amidst the constant chatter of crackers. Her mind wandered back to the morning when Riddhi had called her twice. She deliberately didn't pick up, not just because of Gayatri's presence, but also because she didn't want to. The anger inside her had subsided, but it hadn't diminished. The incident still haunted her memory. Now, sitting alone with apprehension clouding her thoughts, she wondered if acknowledging apologies could truly end her misery.

The answer came swiftly—yes, it could. But what about the misery of the person who acknowledged the hurt, disappointment, and agony before the apology? Forgiveness might be an easy thing to say, but actually doing it takes a piece of oneself. It leaves behind a burning heart, a tainted soul, and bitter memories that stains your existence forever, yet you are the one who is left questioning that why can't you simply let go.

Time helps you heal but it doesn't make you forget.

It might help heal wounds, but it doesn't erase the memories. It removes the curtain of hatred from your eyes, yet it never fully mends the broken threads of the heart. The pain lingers, sometimes dormant, but resurfaces during battles fought within yourself. And what does it lead to? Nothing— but an aimless path of self-pity and blame.

Learning the art of indifference is a challenge that goes beyond the realm of hurt. Masked emotions don't make someone double-faced, but being double-faced can sometimes be the hidden agenda behind masked emotions. Rolling her phone in her hand, Avanti dialed Riddhi's number, her breath caught in anticipation.

"Hello," Riddhi's voice came through, sounding parched.

"Happy Diwali, Riddhi," Avanti whispered, extending her wishes.

"Happy Diwali, Di," Riddhi replied slowly, emotions choking her voice.

Silence enveloped them. Avanti didn't know what to say. She felt empty, hollow, and questioned whether Riddhi even wanted to talk anymore. "Are you busy?"

Riddhi cut her off, asking, "How are you, Di?"

Avanti froze. Three words. Just three words—a simple question—and she had waited for years for her sister to ask her. "I am good. How are you?"