Much love to all the people who are still here. Love you guys so much <3

⭒

Manish Malhotra

Bounded by the four walls of a luxurious office, I sat on an ergonomic rolling chair, swerving from side to side with a folder in my hands and a pencil between my teeth. I was meant to overlook the fine print of a half million dollar design contract three nights ago before passing it over to our official lawyer–Diyah–for a thorough evaluation. Fortunately or unfortunately, Diyah had taken some days off last week, and was still looking sombre in spirit when she buzzed in late this morning, giving me ample time to catch up with tasks that had taken the backburner.

Convinced that everything checked out on my first pass, I shut the binder and slid it across the desk for her to do the final rites before my signatures came into play. She reluctantly picked it up, dropping it twice in the process, then clutching it to her chest in a somewhat strenous manner.

"Is everything okay?"

The woman had been struggling to hold her tears behind and the mere concern in my question seemed to cause her to collapse in the chair in front of me, mercilessly sobbing as she hugged the folder. Panic-striken, I rose to my feet and made my way over, unsure of how to comfort my son's woman.

A part of me had a troublesome feeling that something had gone terribly wrong between the two and I wasn't to interfere in private matters between the couple, while the other fatherly side of me equated my affection for her on a similar scale to Mukti and was immensely sympathetic to her heartbreak, budding some resentment towards my detached son who barely felt the need to acknowledge another person's feelings. Even if it was his partner's.

I rubbed her back softly, as she leaned and sunk her temple into my chest, profusely upsetting me. They had had fights in the past, but nothing serious enough that she had resorted to solace through me. That only meant this setback had more at stake, and more deep-rooted grief. And undoubtedly, my son would not take the first step in mending the fragile bond. With her current state, it would be both unreasonable and apathetic to expect her to fill his shoes just so they could be together again. It was unfair to say the least. But would she be willing to do it?

"It will all be alright," I found myself saying, even though I didn't quite feel it ringing true myself.

"It will never be! He's shut me out and won't talk to me. I didn't know he was so repulsed to marriage, otherwise I never would have..."

Marriage, I gulped, feeling some heat flush my face.

I was partly responsible for his tenacious disgust and absolute disbelief in the term altogether, and my daughter had made it clear to me on multiple occasions by challenging me about it very openly. I should have known when to give up, instead of wallowing away in my zestful attraction for a young vibrant bundle of energy named Nyonika and holding on for eternity in the hope that love would be enough to sustain it all. Love is alone never enough, I should have realised that a lot sooner.

There were some glorious traits in Nyonika, no doubt, that I had wished to imbibe once upon a time. One was her unwavering ambition to succeed, by hook or by crook, in her career. That sort of tunneled vision had uprooted my sense of pride during our initial days together. I had a stable job as a real estate agent in a property development company, a chunk of inheritance and huge plans for our future that surrounded her presence in it. That had drawn her to me and propelled our wedding, short of a few months of dating.

Our plans were quickly cemented in stone, thanks to Nyonika's steadfast focus. Some money went into investing in SPACE, some into a place of our own while some was channeled into other business prospects. Around then, I was looking to welcome a new addition to the family. Bringing children into the picture had also meant restructuring what she and I envisioned for us, a compromise I was willing to go ahead with but she wasn't entirely convinced. Negotiating it with her turned out to be one of the most challenging things I had done in our relationship.

And I was a man with headstrong willpower back in my youth. If I wanted something, even God could not step in its way to achieving it. Even today, this was one of my drawbacks that naturally seeped into Manik's upbringing as well. Knowing what I know now, would I have let myself channel that energy to put everything on the line? All in the name of love? Love.

"I want him back, I would do anything to have him back, please... tell me how?"

How?

I myself had been a victim to this question most of my life. I wanted the perfect life, a perfect wife, a perfect job, perfect children of my own.

But luck had played its cards. We weren't blessed enough to have our own children. Alongside this came a dip in the property market, dissolving the cashflow we had initially reserved for an upcoming future. With financial obligations looming over our heads, IVF was no longer an option, and Nyonika took a step back from the children plan altogether. I had pushed for adoption, stating that it would take at least a few months to get picked to raise a baby, and by then, we would be much better off. When our adoption application finally got approved, we were four years into the waiting list when we got a call from our adoption agency that Manik and Mukti had been picked for us.

Twins. That was a possibility we hadn't thought of, but by then Nyonika had started drifting away. Twins would mean two heirs, and I couldn't find it in me to separate the two. It was the right time for us to split the two business proposals and give her what she wanted, full control over her share of the finances–she took over the trust fund invested with SPACE while I traversed in the real estate commitment I had made in my youth. The two young children whom we adopted out of a need to complete this idealistic family vision, were pushed into the backseats as Nyonika and I battled to get back on our feet. This was the beginning of when life turned sour with major losses and tax issues within the property industry, and I was forking out money from my inheritance to fend for the four of us and our lavish arrangements that, in hindsight, shouldn't have happened in the first place. Until I was reduced to almost nothing. All in the name of love.

Today I had all the money I could have ever dreamed of, but she was long gone. She had found better options, and had moved on to new ventures, with new partners who had lesser baggage. I was no longer part of her picture. What ever would I have given up in life, just for a second chance?

"I–I think you should go to Manik, before it's too late..."

⭒⭒⭒

13 September 2010

Babbu, I'm sorry I didn't get to update you on what happened with my chat with Ammamma yesterday.

Sunday mornings in Bangalore meant two things, an oil head bath followed by a scrumptious breakfast. Ammamma was sitting on a chair, her hands slathered with coconut oil while I was by her feet, unknotting my tangles for a deep head massage as part of our usual routine. On any other day, I would have deeply loved the opportunity to be pampered by her but something felt off. The unexplainable tensions in the room that were ditched the previous night had seemed to linger in its air and antagonise the environment against me.

Abhimanyu had vaguely told me last night that Ammamma and Manik had an interaction with each other after I had disappeared into my room, and things had not gone down pleasantly. If she associated me with him by any chance, she definitely would have had a lot of questions on her mind.

Disrespect was not a thing she tolerated. And I knew if she were to confront me about something, I could not lie to her. The guilt was eating me alive. Countless moments last night passed with me analysing whether or not I did anything wrong. Yes, I had acted on impulse but I was aware of it before it happened, na, I did not cross any boundaries. I did not break any promises.

"Your brother told me everything," She ushered, cutting through the unnerving silence.

I took a deep breath, closing my eyes. "About?"

"Don't forget the family you come from, Nandini. Grace, obedience, compassion, these qualities are naturally in you. Ill-mannered uncultured boys like him will only ruin your life," The panic I hadn't felt since yesterday was slowly ebbing its way in. It felt like a stern warning, from an older much experienced woman, that had seen more in life than I could have heard stories about. All the mental preparation I had undergone the previous night hadn't stood a chance to Ammamma's shrewd words. And for her to have said something so pronounced meant I had given her some hint of what was going on between Manik and I.

Without meeting her eyes, I gathered myself, "Ammamma, you've got it wrong, he just teaches me guitar..." Yes, you have been using that as an excuse to get closer to him and do everything else with him, my subconscious taunted.

"Not necessary, take your sitar back from Bangalore if you really want to play again," I gulped, both of us knowing very well my aversion to classical music altogether. Ever since the accident, merely seeing the sitar that my mother used to play as a child brought some very vivid memories that I never wished to replay. I had pledged as a young traumatised girl to never go back to learning classical music, that for over seven years of my life, I had shunned it from both my muscle and transient memory. Having deduced her sharp lacerating tone, she placated, "I've told Abhi to pull your name from instruments for cultural day,"

I wanted to protest, to mention how when either of my brothers wanted to do something, they always had the opportunities to do so. How it was so unfair that nothing they did was questioned, but I was always under everyone's radar at home. Picking these points out before Ammamma was a lost cause though. It would raise questions on why it was so important for me to learn the guitar, on why I was so stubborn about seeing Manik, on how one day I will be ruining the family name by engaging with a guy like him. Being a girl in this household sucked, but I had to deal with it.

"As you wish, Ammamma,"

Today when I had woken up for school, Ammamma had already left for her 4:30 train to Bangalore. Her looming warnings were still buzzing in my ears, but I decided to focus more of my concentration on the auditions that were nearing. For which I basically had to start from scratch.

How it worked in SPACE was we signed our names up for a variety of perfoming arts. Each pupil could sign for upto three items in the cultural agenda, to ensure that every child is selected and participates in at least one performance. Once the list of names was collated and each department's staff went over how many people volunteered, they would announce timetables during the morning assembly and the children that nominated themselves must report at those respective time slots. This was the allocated timeslot for the course of the next two weeks. For acoustics and vocals, the slot was from 10 in the morning till 12:30.

That meant I would get to see Manik for two and a half hours. I beamed as I did a mini hippity-hoppity dance in my head, before realising I had nothing to be that excited about. I was not going to be practicing with him. In fact, I was supposed to stay away from him.

Today was the first session, and we were all assembled in the school music room, in class and height order. On arriving, I had ceased to look at Manik's direction altogether, which he had noticed promptly. On the left side of the room were the juniors, sixth to eighth graders, being nudged into groups of six and handed over a lyrics sheet each. On our side were the seniors: ninth to twelfth.

I was in the second row with three others. There were a few rows between us and Manik's squad, the Fab 5, who were the only ones with their shirts out and collars undone, nonchalantly standing at the back of the room, chattering and giggling at Aiyappa knew what.

Even after Saturday's episode, they were all the same, especially Manik. A teacher was taking time out of her schedule to plan something and share it with the rest of the class, but no... they had more important things to discuss right in the middle of her announcements. Why was I even hoping that the interaction with Ammamma would've resonated some sort of realisation within him? I crossed my arms without my knowledge.

Our music master was not having it either. She alternated her cursory looks between their group at the last row and us quiet kids in the front rows, further driving her rage.

"Since the seniors already know everything, Dhruv, why don't you come educate the class?"

Of course, it had to be Dhruv. Somehow, everyone found it easier to pick on him, why, between the five of them, he was the one who spoke the least... caused the least trouble. It's always those obedient, graceful, compassionate ones, that others consider weak, and punish them...

I turned around as Dhruv emerged from them, my head following his slow strides as he came to the front of the room.

"Hi..." He said, his cheeks blazing red. This poor boy struggled to make one sentence in front of me... How difficult it would have been for him to have the attention of so many of us in front of him. He gulped, "We make groups of six..."

"Not this year, and you would've heard that if you weren't so distracted by your amazing friends over there," She buzzed, waving at the bunch like they were hopeless fools that were never going to succeed in life. I'm sure on multiple occasions, they've heard those exact words from teachers that it doesn't even affect them.

Manik, however, was enraged by two things. First, the tactful targetting of his best friend. The second, that despite Dhruv's medical condition, the teacher was neither sympathetic nor showed any signs of lenience on him. And given a chance, Manik was the kind of guy to give his life up if it meant protecting his friends.

"Ma'am, he didn't do anything, it was me... I instigated it," He pushed out from the group, as if taking a stand and putting an end to his friend's discomfort.

"Haan, instigate toh woh karta hi hai..." A voice came from an outlier, who had just appeared at the door. Harshad. Manik's gaze widened, piecing together how that moron had come into his field of vision without any prior warnings. Harshad exchanged a smirk for Manik's disbelief. The teacher who was enjoying seeing the weakest link in their friend group shoved sand down his throat, had suddenly felt intimidated by the two men.

The rivalry was evident, but it wasn't merely words of venom. Deep-rooted, bubbling from within like lava under a calm volcano, it was. That sheer aversion was frightening. Harshad shifted his attention to the teacher, maintaining that smirk, "Woh kya hai na Ma'am, kuch logon ko examples ki zarurat hoti hai life mein. Jaise ki apne guru ka kaise izzat karna," He looked back, wanting a reaction.

Manik had agitatedly taken one step forward, wishing to skin the man alive, only to be clutched down by Cabir, shaking his head. "Uske liye toh main hoon na, Ma'am, main sudhaar doonga, don't worry," Harshad said, filling his trouser pockets with his fists. The teacher was mildly pleased.

Manik was mumbling something under his breath, maybe some curses. When his eyes met mine, I blinked, and as if being untwined from the clutches of his enmity, he sobered. Cabir loosened his hold, finally letting go as Manik adjusted his blazer over his pecs, now feeling much in control of his emotions.

The music master, regarding that Harshad had missed out on her earlier announcement, agreed to repeat the agenda. "This year, the seniors will not performing in groups of six. Instead, we're doing a band vs band intraschool competition. Every pupil will sign up to be part of a band, and will represent a genre of music that they will perform in. Since the Fab 5 are very exclusive, I'll open the floor to anyone else who wants to create a band,"

"Perfect timing! My band members are me and Nandini," Harshad smiled at me, as he dropped his name down with the teacher and then stood behind the juniors, opposite to Fab 5.

Me? Why me? Harshad was an Arts student, a solo guitarist. How could I contribute at all?

Manik's eyes turned to stone, gunning Harshad's cocky grin. He turned to me, in hopes that I would say something, anything to speak up for myself.

Mukti gave herself a few minutes to finish her internal debate, and then gravitated towards Harshad, signalling something to him without even moving her mouth. He, who had just verbally pushed all her brother's buttons, was standing mute in front of her... almost complying to her gestures. Something I only imagined couples that were deeply in-touch with each other's quirks could comprehend.

That was when I realised, what Mukti and Harshad had for each other transcended mere fascination. No, they were in love, but not the fairytale kind I've grown up hearing Amma and Appa to be in. No, he was not all bad, she was not all good. There was this cloud of darkness surrounding them, demanding them to stand with each other, deep-rooted in the kind of bond they had with each other, and raw and irredeeming in every sense of those words.

So love could be like this too.

Until every student in the classroom had paired up, we were all to wait. Mukti and Harshad were still silently battling. As much as I didn't want to intervene and third wheel them, if all children in the class were picked, I would have no chance of swapping either. I needed to do this now.

I scooted to the other side, "Why did you pick me? I can't play any instrument, nor can I sing..." I sounded naggy but I hoped that would emphasise my incompetence.

"Relax Nandini, we have almost two weeks. That's more than enough time to whip up something." He said nonchalantly but with a plastered smirk, passing a look at Mukti who seemed outsmarted this time. "Besides, it's nice to have a competitor like Fab 5, I want to help you achieve that," I don't understand this guy. He's dating a girl from the same band. Then why? I felt like I was missing something.

The teacher had announced different venues to practice in for the different bands. I was about to go talk to the teacher myself when Manik's voice hit my ears. I turned in my spot.

"Harshad, Harshad, Harshad... Tu itna chutiya kabse nikla?" His twitches and facial expressions reflected sympathy more than anything else.

"Team toh dekho iski, kitne strong competitors hai humaare," Cabir mocked, though the language was unfamiliar. "And you," He shot at me, "you thought you could leverage Manik's help only to backbite him in the end!" No, I shook my head and sought Manik, who was seething at Harshad and avoiding eye contact with me.

Harshad snapped his fingers, "Oye, tameez se bro,"

Was he defending me? What's actually going on?

Alia had appeared accomplished. Harshad was her brother after all. "If you weren't Manyu's sister, tumhe yahi gaad dete," She taunted taking a step into my face, as I backed off, tears now making their way without a warning.

Mukti said, "Guys, let's go," seeming quite hurt herself. How could I explain to her, that I would never do anything to hurt Manik? And who else could I tell it to, if not Manik himself?

"No... Manik, please, I didn't..." I was crying at their distant backs, while side-hugged by Harshad.

"Leave them, Nandini, they don't know what they're even talking about half the time,"

⭒⭒⭒

Manik

I closed the book violently while recollecting the revolting sight of Harshad lingering like a worm around Nandini. Agitated stomps echoed on the creaky deck. It was a warm monsoon night with an aura of a rain spell about to be cast, the ground incensed with a unique musk that captivated me outdoors in search of some much needed peace. I opened the mini fridge in search of a drink.

That Ganesh pooja night had imprinted a permanent mark in my memory in a completely different light to hers. All I had thought about in those split seconds was my anger... this blood-thirsty aggression at the thought that another man, be it my own best buddy whom I loved to bits, too had laid eyes on her. I couldn't stop him from feeling a certain way towards her. And I knew that fucking look on his face when I saw it the first time. So, like any stupid teenager, I lashed out on her.

Bottoms-upping the green beer bottle in my hand, I slammed it back on the bar counter, now feeling a sour taste in my mouth from both the alcohol and a sheer detest towards my past self. I was hurting her, while on her balcony, in her house. Talk about entitled. And she–she should have shunned me for my ridiculous behaviour with her, sprinkled some hellish tortures to teach me a lesson, perhaps should have cut off all contact with me, or reprimanded me to set me straight. Anything to put me in my spot for acting so irrationally with her. She didn't.

In return, she was incredibly compassionate, she willingly allowed me to handle her however which way I wanted just as long as I could vent, she gave me all the space to express myself in the heat of that moment, and feel guilty solace in her presence as I subsequently regretted my own actions... all without any form of instigation from her end. She was kind, considerate, understanding... why? What had I done to receive so much lenience or forgiveness on her end, for everything that I did? Why?

Why me, of all people?

I brought my guitar, and stroked a tune within seconds of touching those strings. A tune that was vaguely familiar to the one from that one evening after school...

It was approximately five in the evening, after-school hours when our band had disbanded after a four hour practice session, all of us finally in our groove. Mukti had to go see her doctor regarding her migraines again, and Cabir had promptly offered to drop her on his way home. Dhruv had been rooted to one spot, lazily scrolling on his phone as though waiting on something... or someone. I slung my guitar bag over my shoulder when Alia had side-eyed me twice in an attempt to get an offer of a ride back. My phone buzzed and my odd hesitation had found another distraction.

I had exited the room and walked along the hallways to take Nyonika's call with a list of favours she needed from me, the very first of it being a release of funds from Dad's and her joint account. Infuriated at the mild suggestion of a payback at a later stage, once the call had ended, I had mindlessly began descending the stairways to my right, reaching half-way down before coming to a complete standstill.

There she was, sitting on the edge of the staircase protected by metal railings, still in her uniform, deep in contemplation with her hands folded in her lap. Her high ponytail was hanging unusually loose at the nape of her neck, exhibiting the strains and intense burdens of the day. She looked sullen, much like a live and breathing statue. The rage and irritation that had been consuming me since the past few days mildly subdued.

I took two steady steps in her direction, before sitting on a step higher than hers at a respectable distance from her. Nandini was still forlorn in her thoughts, that were far far away from this school. Neither my footsteps nor my presence had impacted her; I cleared my throat.

Suddenly out of the spell around her, Nandini turned sideways and then straightened up, her hands clammily massaging each other. "Using your brilliant brain to plot some dirty plans against Fab5?" The sharpness in which I had posed the question had evidently pricked her.

Nandini looked away, eyes pooling with tears. Mine softened.

It had been eight whole days since the last time I said a word to her, eight mindnumbing days where my entire existence encircled Fab5 and Fab5 alone. Abhimanyu had been in the dark about everything, only vaguely aware that Fab5 were under immense pressure to win the competition. We were all in agreement that involving him would have put a strain in our friendship.

Her silences were torture, as if pacifying my suspicions... adding fuel to the fire. Then Cabir's sentence played in my head... backbite. My temper levels began spiking again. Why of all people did she have to team up with my fucking enemy? I was about to open my mouth to spit another venomous taunt.

"Manik–not today," She mustered, fully exasperated. Her response was not for my question, that was clear. Something else seemed to be bothering her. On closer examination, her eyebags were dark and hollow, her cheeks puffy and her hands were uneasily moving to keep occupied. She was not okay.

I scooted ahead, matching the step she was sitting on, reading her up close. Then closing the distance, I put my finger under her chin and raised her face to mine. Alternating glances between both her sparkling eyes, I magically mumbled, "Hua kya hai?"

Although unaware of the language, the moment had paved some context for her, as she seemingly understood the confusion in my features. She broke the eye-lock, her face flushing into a dull shade of red as she gulped, shivering slightly. I was pulled back to the day when Nandini had mercilessly broken down on the way to class, while clinging onto me.

An intuitive realisation emerged: while I had my friends to rely on and my music to focus on, she couldn't confide in her brother, her family at home, didn't have many friends in school, and she was stuck with a psychotic asshole in band practice.

She truly must have felt alone.

The urge to pull her into a warm hug was quite strong, just as any desire that involved her in close chambers with me. "Do you need a break?"

Her eyes pooled again, grief-stricken this time. As if begging me to listen to her, to understand her. As if all these days she's been battling with it by herself only because I refuse to share that space with her.

I wrapped my hand around her trembling fingers giving her an anchor to pull herself up on. As I rise, the yank is firm and she stands as well. She let herself be dragged along with me. I walked past the classroom our gang practiced in, and opened the door to the empty one just beside it. I let go of the hand holding her, and she scanned the vacant space cautiously before stepping in.

Through the corner of my eye, I looked back at the classroom where Alia and Dhruv probably still were lingering in. If they saw her with me, that would rise so many questions in their heads. Especially Dhruv's. After all, in these eight days he was doing everything he possibly could to keep an eye on Nandini and offer his support wherever possible. Thinking about it boiled my blood, but I pushed that thought to the back of my mind and joined Nandini.

"You're not going to ask me why we're here?"

"I–it doesn't matter, you're here, so I am," She had said it with a meek smile, without meeting my eyes or hesitating, yet with so much conviction that my stomach flipped at the words.

Slow gentle movements were taken in her direction, and filling the space between us, an arm twisted around her waist while the other mindlessly pulled the hairtie that was doing very little to hold her hair in place. Lengths of her hair came into frame until the hairtie escaped and all her strands were loosely placed over one shoulder. Her eyes had fluttered closed and there was an ache over her features.

I felt my own heartbeat race against time as I lifted a finger to trace her face. Her naturally full eyebrows with a mole under an arch, her long sleek black hair, pushing some of it away from her face uncovered a cheek bone, following through it fell down to the corner of her lips. Swiftly raising her chin again, I cast another look.

She is everything I am not. Brave, determined, caring, empathetic.

There were some within our group who were associated with him. Alia, Mukti, why even Cabir–whose secret Harshad knew about before us. But why had it pricked the most to suspect that Nandini could have been in on it?

I ran my hand along the side of her face, grasping a part of her cheek, her ear, her hair and side of her neck firmly in my palm of my hand. My teeth grit firmly, grinding my jaws together.

As my huffs hit her forehead, the twists in her facial muscles disappeared. I was certain I was hurting her, but she hadn't seemed to mind it. I was stunned in my spot as I watched her tip her face upwards, her lips slightly separated to draw in a sharp breath.

My thumb dragged from the side of her face to the centre of her bottom lip, pulling it downwards and then releasing it. No, I couldn't taint her just because of a puny, good-for-nothing creature's stupid plan to break Fab5.

I closed my own eyes as I narrowed the gap and placed a gentle kiss on the tip of her round nose.

Her eyes flew open, her breathing still erratic from anticipation and as if by instinct had gripped a bicep and a forearm to keep me in place. "I didn't betray you, Manik, I–"

"Let me show you something that helps me when I'm upset," I unzipped my guitar bag. I took the instrument out and put the supporting band over one of her shoulders.

When I was in front of her, she muttered, "Manik, I had no idea Harshad would–" I used the pick to pluck on some strings, interrupting her sentence. I walked around her and pressed the chords from behind. The other came over hers to play the instrument. I played a tune from memory, and a small smile unravelled on her.

"Do you trust me?" I whispered against one of her shoulders.

"Yes,"

I subsequently guided her fingers, slipping the pick into her hand as I glided my touch over her arms. Half in an attempt to test how much she meant what she said, and the other half to pacify the addictive electricity that craved her proximity. With my chin on her shoulder, her fingers filled the spaces in mine as we collectively came up with a variation of a tune I was familiar with.

That was my first time I was playing the guitar with someone outside the Fab5, outside of our group. The thought had clawed at my chest, making me feel a certain fuzzy feeling I had associated with her presence. I smiled seeing her gather a few moments of joy in the dull days that must have occupied her. I couldn't believe I was the reason for that smile.

An overwhelming feeling took over: one that wanted me to grab her and kiss her until her lips were blistered and sore, to claim her and take her ten feet under with me... where my demons lived, to expose that part of my unwanted life and neglected soul that nobody until then... not even Mukti and I talked about.

Taking a deep breath, I muttered in her ear, "But I don't trust you,"

⭒

Whew, that was a long update! We're sort of 1/3rd of the way through :P Let me know what you think of this story so far :) Cheers!