Sunday, 18 August 2019

os: Kuch Is Tarah

"Kuch is tarah, teri palkein, meri palkon se mila de, aansoon tere saare meri palkon pe saja de, Tu har ghadi, har waqt mere saath raha hai, haan yeh jism kabhi door kabhi paas raha hai, jo bhi gham hai yeh tere unhe tu mera pata de, kuch is tarah teri palkein, meri palkon se mila de'."

As he sat there, strumming this beautiful song on his guitar, I lost myself in his words, in his beautiful pain. I had my eyes closed, I could feel his pain, his love for I had been thorough the same. I, too, had wished to take someone's pains away from him, I, too, had promised myself to love him, protect him, lifelong. And now, Three years later, I still regret it. I curse myself for giving myself, loosing myself to someone who I thought loved me dearly. How wrong was I, he left me, two days later. He told me he was going to Mumbai for a day because of office work. He told me of his return, and I went to get him. I stayed at the Delhi railway for a whole day, and when I saw no trace of him, I returned home, only to find my answering machine blinking, indicating I had a new message. Scared, I ran. I ran towards it as if my life depended on it. And as soon as I pressed play, I regretted it. I heard my husband's voice telling me that he wasn't going to return and that he was sorry but he loved someone else. He had signed the divorced papers and put them in our closet. I, too, was to sign them and then take them to the court. We would never have to see each other again.

I had cried. I had cried to the extent of getting unconscious and remaining so for over half a day. I had cried and my eyes stung. I had cried and my heart ached. I had cried and he didn't care. He never had. How wrong was I too ever thought he had. How wrong. How silly. How stupid.

I had gotten ready, to give myself a night out, to make myself look desirable again. And then I had seen him, sitting the same way. Singing the same song. And I had cried. Again. This time, for him. I had forgotten myself, and my pain. The love, the feelings, the pain, the essence in his voice, had stolen my heart. And since then, I started coming here. Every Sunday to see his long fingers strum his guitar, to his long legs rest of the stool, to see his eyes hide behind the locks of his hair, to see him. In the last three years, I had never seen him repeat a song, never seen him lift up his eyes and look at the crowd. And today when he did that, I stopped breathing for a minute. When our eyes met, my heart thumped like it would tear out of my body.  When he smiled at me, I felt butterflies in my stomach. When he walked towards me, I was up before he reached. And when he touched me, my body reacted, instantly. As if it had belonged to him all along, as if it recognized his touch, as if it was his and only his.

All the while, he was still singing, singing the song I had first heard him sing, singing the song that had made me cry then, and makes me cry now. That salty water in my eyes had no where to go, so it flowed, it flowed freely. Like a damn flows when its full with rain water. My damn was full too, full with pain. And he broke it, broke the walls that held the water, broke the walls that I had created around my heart, broke the walls that shunned people away from me. He had, somehow, seen past through them, somehow read my pain. Could this guy read eyes? Possibly, but he had never as so much even glanced at me. How then? I asked him through my eyes, that he was trying to read very carefully. And when he answered in that baritone whisper, my heart stopped beating, I stopped breathing and there was no one else in the world.

"I've seen you here, from past three years. Every Sunday night, you come here and sit on the same table and close your eyes and yourself from everyone else. You had long ago stopped caring that you shed tears. You don't realize that you still cry every time you hear me sing."

Shocked, I looked up at him. And he held my hand and took me to the stage and starting dancing with me, still continuing his song.

"Mujhko toh tere chehre pe, yeh gham nahi jachta, jayaz nahi lagta, mujhe gham se tera rishta."

 Stroking my cheek with his big hands that now cupped my face, he wiped away my tears and continued singing.

"Sun meri guzarish, isse chehre se hata de. Kuch is tarah, teri palkein meri palkon se mila de, aansoon tere saare, meri palkon pe saja de. Kuch is tarah'"

And before I knew it, the song had ended, and the people waited, for something to happen. No one clapped, no one moved. The world, this time for real, had stopped.

And then it happened, I felt his lips on my cheek, Kissing away my tears. He stopped at my eyes, and when I closed them for him, awaiting his touch, he kissed them and the tears flowed. And I sobbed, in his arms. His head, resting on mine, his palm rubbing my back and then I looked up and saw his own tears trying to make way from his eyes. I took my hand and closed his eyes, and saw his tears on his cheek. I, too, kissed the salty liquid away and smiled. When he opened his eyes, they were full of love. Love for me. I wasn't ready to accept it yet so I hid myself, in his chest, trying to digest it all. Like he understood me, he bent down and whispered in my ears. "We'll start from the beginning. From friendship, mujhse dosti karogi?" I smiled and nodded. I felt him smile. And then it happened, he bent down and kissed me. He picked me up, my prince charming, really did sweep me off my feet. He kissed me with passion and so much love, I didn't realize or hear the people hooting, people clapping, people yelling. I was lost, lost in his love. Kuch is tarah, ki kuch pata hi nahi chala. Holding each others hands, we walked out of the pub. Together.


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