Procrastination is an artist's worst enemy.

Mahima Thakur's favourite mantra echoed against the walls of Madhu's brain as she stared blankly at the unfinished murti of Ganesh ji in front of her. The elephant-headed deity was one of the first sculptures Madhu had ever made, back when she was eleven, and at the moment it was sitting proudly as a central figure in her father's personal shrine in his office.

Yet right now, Madhu just couldn't figure out how to start. A long night's sleep hadn't been able to get rid of the images of the bruised and beaten man--thief apparently--from her mind. When she had entered the kitchen earlier that morning, Champa had informed her that Nakul had left early that morning to check on the progress of the complaints filed against said thief, as well as the men who had burnt Rani. Two hours later, Madhu was sitting alone in her art studio, feeling her gut coiling because he was yet to return.

A small part of her reasoned that she was being unnecessarily paranoid. Nakul was perfectly capable to taking care of himself, even protecting himself if need ever arose. But the larger part of her reminded her of the spat he had gotten into with the inspector the day before, and now had just recklessly strolled into his territory, to demand him to do his job of all things.

She gave up on getting any progress done on the murtis that day. Walking out of the room, Madhulika decided to while away her time until he returned.

Seeing her mother's old book in the makeshift children's library had planted the idea of checking out her grandfather's old study in Madhu's head. She vaguely remembered Nakoo telling her that he now used it to store some documents of his own, since the workshop wasn't large and safe enough to house everything.

Sure enough, when Madhu entered the dusty, unused study, the first thing that came into view was a pile of what looked like rolled up charts. They were resting on an ancient-looking yet sturdy colonial-styled table, made of sleek, polished mahogany. Unlike other rooms in this house, this study had little sources of natural light, with only two small vents allowing the late morning sun rays to highlight the tiny dust particles in the room. Three walls were covered with overflowing bookshelves which housed the collection of both her grandparents' and parents' books. Going over to the shelves, Madhulika examined their contents. They were largely Hindi books - journals, biographies, novels - with a few English titles, mostly the ones added by her mother, peppered in.

Krishna Ram Thakur, her grandfather, had been heavily involved in the nationalist struggles of the 1930s and 1940s, happily getting arrested by the Imperial Police at the call of Gandhi. It was odd for a zamindar's son to be anti-British in those days, yet her grandfather had rebelled against his parents' wishes as an undergraduate in college, much to their dismay.

It was in jail that he met another free-spirited, albeit uneducated patriot. Madhu didn't really know much about the origins of their friendship, but from what her father had told her, Raghu Kaka had saved her grandfather from some angry cellmates and in return, Krishna Ram Thakur promised to help him whenever need arose.

Having taken out some novels from the shelves, Madhu went back to the table placed in the center. She knew it was almost akin to invading Nakul's privacy, but that didn't stop her from opening one of charts that lay atop the haphazard pyramid on the desk.

It was mechanical mumbo-jumbo. She assumed it was the blueprint of the generator he was working on, but that was about all she could gauge from the complex diagrams. Madhu had never really been a science person, especially physics, her specialty always being business and management.

She rolled it back and replaced it on top of the pile only for all the charts to come rolling down from their pyramid. As she went around the desk to pick them up, a thin book lying under the table caught her eye.

A Practical Guide for Learning ISL.

She wondered what it stood for, answering her own question mere moments later when she flipped it open.

Indian Sign Language.

Understanding dawned on her. Even though Nakul had told her he never wanted to rely on Sign, Madhu realized she should've expected him to be fluent in it. Without thinking much, she placed the guide next to the rest of the novels she had taken out and quickly left the library, happy that she had found something worthwhile to do.

Ten minutes later, Madhu poured herself a cup of steaming hot, ginger-rich chai and settled down on the dining table, bent over the guide which looked like it had never been fully used. She only left her place when a knock sounded through the front door, allowing Champa inside to prepare lunch at half past noon.

Madhu struggled for three more hours, mumbling to herself and waving her hands around more enthusiastically than an emotional character in those trashy Italian soap operas Shikha liked to watch, back when they were in the twelfth grade. By the time Champa left, she had barely managed to sign one sentence, more like four words. But since it was pretty much the only thing she was going to ask him, Madhu snapped the book shut and stretched in her chair.

As if on cue, a loud rap came from the front door. She immediately jumped and much to her relief, it was Nakul. Before he could even properly step inside, Madhu started moving her hands. They were sore from practicing all afternoon and it felt like she was forcing herself to do one last pull up in the gym. But it all became worth the pain when a lopsided grin appeared on Nakul's scarred face when he finally caught on to what she was trying to do.

"You don't really have to do that; I can lip read, and I have this." He pointed to the hearing device in his left ear, though he nonetheless answered her slowly signed question. "But yeah don't worry they've filed the complaints. I'll tell you everything, but can we eat something first? I'm starving."

Nodding, she led him back to the dining room. If Nakul was surprised to see the old books placed on it, he didn't let Madhu know. Once they had settled down to eat, he began talking between mouthfuls of chole rice.

"Turned out, the man wasn't the cattle-smuggler after all, although he had seen them escape. But he couldn't recognize them since they were non-locals."

"What about Rani's case?"

A dark expression took over his face. "I'm not sure really. The sub-inspector won't be straight with me about that. Although he did give me his word to file a formal FIR tomorrow."

Madhu wanted to say that the word of the officer who had abused the villagers the day before couldn't really be relied upon. But she got a feeling that Nakul wasn't telling her all the details of his visit. 

They finished their meal in silence which was broken only by the clanking of steel spoons on steel plates. It was then that Madhu tentatively asked a question which had been plaguing her since the day she had arrived at Bhabra.

"How do you understand everything? I mean, isn't it true that lip reading is only like, thirty percent accurate even for experts?"

He leaned back, absently twirling his spoon with his fingers as he contemplated her question. "That's...well that stat really differs for different languages. I mean, I can hardly understand English, but Hindi is much more phonetically consistent so it's easier to read you know? Besides, I've had years of practice, been doing this for fun even before I started losing my hearing."

That came as a surprise. Who the hell learns how to lip read for fun? That was so...random.

"Why?"

"It freaked my seniors out, which in turn made them respect me." A corner of his mouth tilted up as he thought back to those days. "It was my thing in a way, reading the lips of trainers in school and then later in NDA too. My classmates in school actually went ahead to fund an expensive pair of binoculars for my birthday. Or rather, the arbitrary date they had decided to celebrate as my birthday. In return, I used to eye the conversation of teachers and trainers to pass on privileged information, which used to nearly always be right."

Madhu was left speechless as he got up to dump both their plates into the sink. He seemed so capable. But then why was he here? Surely her father didn't pay enough to compensate for his wasted talents in this isolated village. 

Seeing that she was still rooted to the dining table, he came back to sit next to her, and Madhu turned to sit sideways in her chair so as to face him.

"Well?" she pestered when he started tapping his nails on the table, not saying anything.

"Well what?"

"What was the point?"

He was generally very well composed, confident even, which was not really a surprise given that army men weren't supposed to be fidgety. But right now, he wouldn't stop playing with every little object in front of him - spoons, saltshakers, tablecloth, anything. "I told you, there was no...point to it. I just wanted to impress people around me."

Was he embarrassed?

An amused smile broke across Madhu's face at that. It widened when she saw a him roll his eyes at her. "Shut up."

A short laugh escaped her. "I can't believe you Nakoo," she said, shaking her head. "You're like a genius and you're embarrassed? How did you even learn it?"

Nakul didn't seem too strung up anymore and relaxed a little, like his usual self. "Well, I didn't know how to pass my free hours in boarding school, so I just used sneak into the AV room and watch movies. The library had a good collection and the teachers overlooked it because, well, I think they sympathized. But hey, this old habit of my lonely self pretty much saved me when I went ahead and lost my hearing."

Madhu wanted to ask him how exactly that happened. She had a hunch that it had something to do with the burn scar on his right cheek which ended just near his ear, a scar that even the best army doctors couldn't entirely fix with plastic surgery.

"Eventually, I got so bored that I devised a game," he continued, his gaze fixed on the bare wall behind her. "It was basically me muting the movies and studying the body languages of the actors, trying to understand what they were saying without actually hearing it. Lip reading is more than just the lip part. I mean, I never get full sentences, only catch like a couple of words and based on the body language of the person and the context, I guess what is being said. Which is why it takes me a moment to process anything. It's all about observation really." He finally looked at Madhu, soft caramel eyes meeting hers, eyes that were a complete contrast to his war-hardened, scarred face.

Madhulika didn't know what she was doing, didn't know what she meant by it, but she shifted her chair closer to his until their knees bumped. "You used to be my best friend," she whispered. "And then I just left." It only dawned on her now that she knew so little about him. She had no idea what he had been up to all these years. He had suffered so much, and she never even bothered to contact him, she hadn't even spared him a passing thought.

"It wasn't your choice Madhu."

"It was my choice to never visit, not even when Ma asked me to as her last wish." She hadn't told a soul about Mahima Thakur's last words to her daughter, words that she had chosen to ignore because they seemed impossible to fulfill. Words that haunted her every time she thought about her mother.

"You're here now," he pointed out. "You did listen to her, you came back, even if it is for a few days."

Not for the reasons she wanted.

Madhu didn't say that out loud, partially because she didn't want to think about it, and partially because she knew Nakoo would ask questions if she did, questions she had no answers to.

"I know," Madhu said instead. "But still, Bhabra feels distant now, it's like it's not home anymore. But hey," She cracked a weak smile. "At least we get to be friends again right?"

"You're stupid."

"I'm sorry, what?"

His next words made her forget all about her all-consuming guilt that constantly weighed her down. They acted like an ointment to the massive acid burn that was her current emotional state.

"You're stupid if you think we ever stopped being friends."

Madhu couldn't remember the last time she had grinned like a buffoon, but at that moment, it was all she could do.

Can anyone guess what her mother's deathbed wish was? It's not too grand tbh.

PS: NEXT UPDATE IS ON DIWALI EEEEEEEEEEEKKKKKKKK!!!