Episode 32

“I’ll not have breakfast today.”

“Ok.”

“Neither lunch.” Mishti looks up at Samrat and nods, suspicious. “As you wish.”

“Nor dinner.” Mishti frowns at that, a retort ready to tumble out of her mouth when she realizes who she is standing before and talking to. She should be avoiding coming in front of this man right now and not toast the breads that he doesn’t even want to eat.

“Ok.” She sighs, switching off the toaster, missing the petulant tone in her employer’s voice or the way his expressions go from hurt to angered.

“Is it because of what I said that day?” Samrat suddenly asks, halting from where he had been cuffing up his sleeves while talking to her.

“Huh?” Mishti remains clueless.

“Is it because I told you about my wife, my parents? Is it that why you’re avoiding me?”

What?

“What?”

“I cried in front of you, you must think I’m not man enough –”

“What? Samrat, you’re getting it all wrong!” Mishti protests but he doesn’t listen, instead shakes his head, jaw clenching.

“No, I am not. Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Samrat –”

“I should’ve kept it to myself.” Samrat keeps on mumbling, his forehead gaining a frown, while his words only do to raise Mishti’s temper.

“Can you stop it, already?”

“I shouldn’t have –”

“Yes.” Mishti snaps, putting the knife down harshly on the kitchen slab, and turning to face the man fully, her nose flaring angrily. “It’s your mistake, you shouldn’t have told me anything. Should have just gotten drunk all over again like all those yea –” she stops immediately in her words, quickly realizing the mistake she was just going to make.

“Drunk?” Samrat questions confused, and then flicks his chin up, his gaze hardening before falling on her. “I’ll have you know that I don’t drink. I have never gotten drunk in my life, apart from that one day….” He mumbles the last few words, thankfully not being able to interpret her words clearly but still reaching to the point that she had been referring to. “Had it not been for that bottle of whiskey, I would have remembered her clearly.” He murmurs, gaze spanning in and out of a trance that Mishti is fully aware of.

And suddenly as if the most unattainable idea has struck his mind, Samrat looks at her with a distraught, accusatory gaze.

“She would have understood it.” He gulps, that childlike vulnerability evident in his eyes as he talks about her in front of her. “Had it been her in your place, she would have understood me,” Samrat says in his mouth, but Mishti hears it crystal clear and even if she knows that it is her past self that he is talking about, it makes jealousy flare in her chest.

“Then you should have… should have told the person you’re talking about instead of me. At least you wouldn’t have regretted it so much.” She says, chest heaving.

But Samrat too doesn’t just listen patiently and inhales a long breath, his lower lip quivering in frustration.

“Of course, I regret it. Since the moment I have told you about that you have been avoiding me. I told you all that because I thought you might understand. You know the importance of a family, of parents.” He says, his voice ranging from high to low. “Do you think I go on sharing my past with every second person? I don’t think I would’ve even shared it willingly with Vivek had he not known all of it already. But with you, I…. I trusted you, Mishti.” Samrat says the finger pointed at her going down with a defeated flick of his hand.

“But I didn’t know you would –” He gulps looking at her with an effort of pulling a hundred cars with his bare hands. “I know I too avoided you once. I was wary of facing you, but I had my inhibitions, my reasons, and maybe you do too but it hur –”

“Love.” Mishti looks at him. “What would you do if you fall in love with someone you’re not supposed to fall for? When you know you’re the opposite of what they’ll want in their partner, when you’re a choice that they shouldn’t make, that they probably won’t make. Was that your reason for ignoring me? Because mine is exactly that. I have gone ahead and fallen in love with someone that I can’t have, that I shouldn’t have, Samrat. I have fallen in love with you. I’m scared, so scared, so sue me for trying to look out for myself.... and for you.”

Mishti wants to say that, voice out all her feelings but of course she doesn’t. She doesn’t want to ruin whatever that has been created between them, doesn’t want to ruin the only beautiful dream in her world full of nightmares.

She doesn’t dare to pour her heart out and stands there silent, guilty, knowing that like every time, this time too she is at fault.

Had it been her in his place and would have told someone about the things in life that she hadn’t shared with anyone and the person in front of her would ignore her, then, of course, she too would have been hurt.

Just like Samrat is.

Mishti looks at Samrat with her wistful gaze, doesn’t say anything and takes her time letting her eyes flit over all his face as if memorizing every detail.

She doesn’t want to see this heartbroken look on him ever again.

“I’m sorry.” She says, quietly, careful to not startle the calmness that has once again found its way on his face. “It was wrong of me to avoid you. I shouldn’t have. But since…” she lets her gaze fall to the ground to gain some courage before looking at him yet again. “Since you too hadn’t told me the reason for your avoidance, I too don’t want to tell.”

She expects anger, frustration or an emotion remotely similar to the aforementioned, but what she doesn’t expect is the exasperated way in which a chuckle escapes his mouth, and he takes a step towards her, one that she doesn’t back out from. “I don't care about it, Mishti. I don’t want to know the reason. Just stop avoiding me. Please.”

He has her at that sweet and sincere ‘please’.

She can remember on her one hand the number of people who have pleaded with her to stop avoiding them, to just be with them.

Of course, she relents.

“Ok.” She says, giving him a small smile and the single syllable word somehow surprises the man.

“What?”

“I said I'll not avoid you. Not from now. And I am sorry if I came across as someone insensitive.”

“You did,” Samrat grumbles, avoiding eye contact.

Mishti almost says her feelings out loud witnessing the cute mumbling and yet nesting the guilt in her heart, guilt of hurting the person she never wanted to hurt.

“I'll make it up to you.” She says. “I promise.” It's then that Samrat looks at her, the same innocence clouding his eyes that had Mishti falling for the man.

“You don't think I'm weak, do you?” he asks quietly and Mishti can't stop her hand when it reaches out to hold his, stroking it gently in an act to say whatever she can’t verbally. She hopes he understands.

“No, you are the strongest person I've ever met,” Mishti says reminiscing his tear-filled eyes from years ago. “You just don't want people to leave you.” She smiles shakily swallowing the dryness in her throat.

Samrat imitates the action. “I don't.” He says and then smiles, eyes glinting with mirth. “And I’ll not let you.”

This time when Mishti smiles though it's with melancholy hiding behind it. “I won't.”

Not until you’ll send me away.

*

“Mishti!”

He called her 'Mishti'.

“Bhai?”

“Don’t bhai me. You know exactly what you have done. How could you?” Mishti cowers inwardly hearing her brother’s angry voice, not expecting the underlying sense of betrayal in them.

“You were going to send the agency a fabricated piece? A replica of the vase?” he asks, flabbergasted and it is then Mishti realizes what it’s all about. Though she hadn’t thought that it would come to this.

The plan was for Aisha to send the replica to the orphanage, and get it broken somehow so that the agency would not be able to test the authenticity of the piece. How it reached her brother instead, Mishti can't comprehend.

“Why did you do it, Mishti?”

Why isn’t he correcting himself and calling her Chutki already?

“Why did you decide to put our lives in jeopardy? Don’t you know what they do to those who don’t obey them, or who betray them? Why were you going to send them the fabricated piece? What about the real vase? Where is it?” he asks, a growl vibrating through the words.

“Bh-Bhai –”

Mishti’s eyes fill with instant tears not used to her brother’s anger, neither knowing how to answer the question.

“Aren’t our lives important to you? Am I not precious to you whose every breath goes on fretting about your safety? Why did you do it, Chutki?”

Mishti exhales a relieved breath of sigh as she hears her brother calling by her name but the next second, he is hanging up the call, with words that Mishti keeps hearing all night, with tear-stained cheeks and sobs escaping her mouth in the pillow.

“This wasn’t right of you, Chutki, I trusted you.”

“I trusted you, Mishti.”