(I do not own the video, or the song. This song is from the movie Talash, by Ram Sampath.)

||CHAPTER 60||
《¤》

She had died due to a heart attack.

Going numb wasn't something new that concerned me. Feeling helpless was.

I had not planned what would happen if she was gone, because I wanted to stay innocent and pretend that wasn't going to happen. She was aged, but she wasn't that old. She was supposed to stick around for a long time. She was supposed to be my support system, my ally. She was supposed to be waiting for me to come back from school that afternoon so that we could dance on the songs that would have been playing on her favourite stereo system. She was supposed to feed me karele ki sabzi during dinner while I fed her on the latest high school gossip.

She was supposed to be alive.

Early evening that day, her body was taken away. I had been holding onto her palm so tightly, feeling her bangles making indents on my skin, but she had gone anyway. I didn't want her to leave. She was supposed to open her eyes. She didn't though. I didn't want them to cover her nostrils with cotton, but they didn't listen.

I missed the wrinkles on her skin. I missed the comforting smell of her. I missed her daily taunts. It was painful to watch them lay her on the pile of wood logs and cover her with a white sheet. It was painful to watch them light the logs with fire. It was painful to immerse her ashes into the river.

I had thrown many tantrums since that day. I couldn't believe this was happening. I wasn't ready to accept this. Every passing day was a freaking punishment. I wanted to see her. I wanted her ghost to haunt me. I just wanted to sleep on her lap and forget this bad dream.

Our friends had come many times to see us. The cold war between Vansh and us was momentarily forgotten. Arnav was handling this better among us two. I would just stand by the window, waiting for her to come back. Wasn't the world keen on miracles? But I didn't want to talk to anyone. Talking about this made me cry more. 

For the past three days, I had barely left her room. I didn't want to. Her bed sheets had been changed, but her smell still lingered. I could feel her touch on the buttons of the remote. The framed family photograph on her bedside table was a mocking gesture. I didn't want her to rest in peace, I just wanted her to come back to me.

I slept on her bed, it made me feel closer to her. I wept on her pillows because they made me feel so close to her, yet so far away. Where did people wander off to after maladies?

I had often hugged her favourite stereo system while sleeping. The memories flooded my vision. Of me dancing with her on her favourite tunes. Of her running her hands through my hair. Of us gossiping about the cranky neighbours.

How was she gone?

I knew Dad had gone back to work after the customs were over. Immersing himself in work was his way of coping. Ignoring the outside world was his way of dealing with pain.

Many people had come to greet us. Jolly Bua attended to them. No one was emotionally stable, but someone had to step up.

On the fourth day, mother finally made an appearance. I had been drifting in between the horrible dreams in which she was dead, and the sweet haze of reality where everything was waiting for me to come back from school, when the door tfo Daadi's room opened.

No words were exchanged. She came in and sat on the bed. I turned on my back to face the ceiling. It was too cold, I wrapped Dadi's shawl across my body. After a few moments, I sat up straight. My mother's lips trembled as she slowly wrapped an arm around me.

I let her. Daadi's smell was overwhelming. Tears were making my vision hazy again.

I was seeking for comfort this time.

¿¤?

My mother didn't stay long enough for dinner. But she made me get out of that room to freshen myself up. I knew I looked bad, but I wasn't ready to show the world I was okay. Wounds like this hardly ever healed.

During dinner, it felt so odd. Jolly bua had gone home. The fourth chair, beside me, remained vacant. None of us could look at each other. Everything was bland.

"Both of you should start going to school," our father said, twisting his spoon. We didn't want to eat anymore. "Bohot chhuttiyaan ho gayi hai. Exams bhi aa rahe hai."

Arnav hummed a reply. I kept on staring at my plate. 

I just wanted Daadi back.

"Aur..." Dad cleared his throat. We were listening, he didn't need to do that.

"Ham doosre wale ghar me shift honge. Agle hafthe."

That grabbed my attention, I looked up. "What?"

"Papa ke death ke baad jis ghar mein ham shift hone wale the, ham udhar shift hojayenge. In a week. Renovations kara rahe hai. Tum dono ko apne kamre me jo changes karwane hai, woh interior experts ke saath baath karke karwa lena. I'll send you the number."

My temper was rising again. "How can you even think of doing this, Dad?!"

He didn't respond. I was seething.

"Dad, yaha Daadi ki memories hai! How can you just... right after she... We are not going to shift, Dad. Yeh hamara ghar raha hai, and yehi hamara ghar rahega."

"We need to move on, Arvika," he raised his voice. "Tumhari Daadi ab nahi hai yaha! Tum ho, aur tum unhe har jagah is ghar me mehsoos kar rahi ho! This is difficult for everybody, stop complicating things even more!"

"Dad, I am complicating this? I miss her. She was the only person who really ever tried to understand me! So spare me if I don't want to hold onto her something!"

He stood up abruptly and left the room. I had made him angry, but I wasn't guilty.

Arnav had stopped eating too. I was gripping my spoon tightly. Dinner was a lovely affair indeed.

I just wanted Daadi to come back.

¿¤?

I woke up on my bed the next day, clutching onto Daadi's shawl. The blinds were down, and the clock was flashing 7 a.m.

Dad was sitting on the desk chair, eyes closed. I blinked my eyes to confirm his presence, but he was indeed there, eyes closed, sleeping in an uncomfortable position.

"Papa?" I groaned. He stirred at the noise, and woke up after a few seconds. "Aap yaha kya kar rahe ho?"

He rubbed his face with the palm off his hands before wearing his specs again. He had dark circles under his eyes.

"Dad," I said again. "What's up? Aap poori raath yaha hi soye kya?"

He stood up and walked towards my bed. I rolled to the side to make some space for him to sit.

"She was a strong woman, you know. Knew her ideals right. Knew the right in the wrong."

I tugged the blinds to let in some sunlight. It was too gloomy in here.

"She's the best," I whispered.

"Best things do come with limited time period."

I sniffed due to cold. "If ghosts exist, I want hers to haunt me."

My father squeezed my arm. "We need to shift, Vika. Living here will be too depressing."

"Was that the case when Dadaji died?"

He rolled his lips inside his mouth, looking outside the window.

"I know you were very close to her, Vika. I don't want to see you and Arnav like this."

"Do you expect us to dance to loud music, celebrating instead?"

"You know that's not what I meant, Vika."

I did. But my mind was filled with thoughts of Daadi to think about anything else.

"I'm getting to the serious part now, Vika."

This was a'coming.

"Your Daadi wanted you to take over the corporate business, because we know you are capable of running our empire."

I scoffed. "So is Arnav."

"He is often blinded by personal biases to ever work out a strategy. Yes, I want him to get serious about our business, and he is trying to. For him, it's going to take time."

"I'm not interested anymore, if you're trying to convince me to take part in the Mehra deal."

He sighed. "We sure need to talk about that. But some other day."

I won't be ready any day for that talk. It had devastated a part of me.

"You need anger management classes, Arvika," he said, pocketing out a green brochure. "I know you're level headed, and don't let emotions come into your way of analytical thinking. But this is something you need for becoming a good businesswoman."

It was a camp in Shimla. Not the bonfire camp-camps. A mini week-long boarding school sort of camp. And I had no say in the matter.

"Maa's death... has put a bad effect on all of us, but we need to look forward too, Vika. Please, don't fight me over this. I understand you're not in the right state of mind... but please. It's only for a week. Will be over before you know it, and will be fun too. In fact, I'll spare you for breaking curfew over there, but you have to be safe. Just... just let's go back to what we were."

I wished it wasn't so difficult.

_____

Namoshtaii!

Well, I'll tell you a secret. I wrote this part in November, the last time I was actually consistent with updates, and I was upset about something else, so I channelled that emotion into the beginning part of this chapter. I know, I know most of you hate me for doing this, hell I hated myself while writing this too, because personally, I loved Daadi, but this scene? It is the sole reason behind Dil Jaanta Hai actually becoming a story. I have not seen Talash yet, but I heard this song Laakh Duniya Kahe two years ago properly, and a scene just popped into my mind. The beginning portion of the chapter was that scene, and I just knew I HAD to write some story weaved around it (and fun fact, there is a line in the song that says 'par hai dil jaanta' and I had not realised it until after I decided on the title!)

This chapter was not aimed at hurting anyone's sentiments, and hence if it did, I apologise. I'm really, really sorry.

Anyways, read, vote, comment and promote!

~chaashnee