Koyal blushed and grinned at the same time.
‘Well,’ she said, laughing, ‘now you know.’
‘No, seriously, this is impressive,’ Atharv said, stepping closer.
‘No, no,’ said Koyal, ‘this is nothing. I head pretty much the smallest and the most insignificant product at SunSoft … it’s nothing big.’
Atharv and Koyal stared into each other’s eyes, his holding a million questions and hers not giving anything away.
‘How?’ he finally asked, his voice an awed whisper.
The first time he had asked anything about her past.
‘Stole from Ma the day after she died,’ said Koyal and then burst out laughing when she saw the expression on Atharv’s face.
‘It’s a long story, Atharv,’ she said finally, ‘for another day.’
‘If you are done, can we please ask Koyal Aunty if she will babysit me this Saturday?’ interjected Mansha, who had her arms wrapped around Koyal’s legs. ‘Both Daddy and Dadi have to go somewhere – different places,’ she informed Koyal.
‘You want me to babysit you, little baby?’ Koyal asked, tickling Mansha.
‘Not that I am a baby but that is the phrase everyone uses so…’ trailed off Mansha, looking so downcast that both Atharv and Koyal burst out laughing.
‘Of course,’ Koyal said in between laughs.
‘Nothing can be more beautiful than this,’ Koyal thought dreamily to herself as the notes from the piano filled the air around her with beauty and hope. Mansha’s little fingers swept across the keys of the grand piano and Koyal, sitting cross-legged next to her, listened enthralled.
Mansha, Koyal thought, was an odd little girl. Usually easy-going, but very sensitive and at times, disturbingly wise. Since she had been reunited with Koyal after the accident in school, Mansha had begun to treat Koyal as if she were made of glass and would go to extreme lengths to make sure she didn’t do or say anything likely to offend. That she was walking on eggshells around her was as obvious as it was upsetting for Koyal.
‘I’ll never let you get angry with me,’ Mansha whispered to Koyal one day.
‘Why? It’s absolutely normal, healthy even, to show anger once in a while.’
‘When you get angry at someone, you leave,’ she said simply and went back to her book. Koyal looked at the girl, taken aback by the truth in her words.
The calm of the music room was disturbed a bit later by a pointed clearing of throat. Koyal and Mansha turned around in unison to find that the perpetrator was none other than Atharv. Mansha smiled in delight, but Koyal found herself gulping.
Is it just me and the chemistry of my brain that I find Atharv this good-looking or is he really so? Koyal found herself wondering as she stared at him.
Atharv was wearing an impeccably tailored suit in dark grey. A crisp white shirt and a tie. Freshly shaven and smelling, even from that distance, of a cologne that reminded Koyal of teak forests and sleek cars.
Atharv Jayakrishna was strikingly good-looking. The kind of good-looking that was responsible and kind and the sort that you’d never want anything bad to ever happen to. The kind of good-looking that was strong and powerful and the sort that would never let anything bad happen to you.
But, as Koyal was slowly finding out, a lot of bad had happened to him.
‘I am off for the evening,’ he said to Koyal and Mansha.
‘Have fun,’ said Koyal, wishing he would hurry up and go. For, somehow, she didn’t want to know where he was headed. Or, more importantly, with whom.
‘Daddy,’ shouted Mansha, grinning, ‘have fun!’
Laughing, Atharv turned to leave the room and Koyal went back to staring at the piano, lost in thought.
‘I think Daddy has gone out on a date,’ Mansha said chattily.
A sinking feeling of despair flashed in her heart and Koyal quickly, hurriedly, frantically stamped it out. No! NO!
‘With Kimberly,’ Mansha was saying, ‘from the hospital. I heard him and Dadi talk.’
Koyal nodded. She knew. She had seen Kimberley’s eyes in the hospital.
‘She’s really nice,’ said Mansha, narrowing her eyes at Koyal in a way that made her very uncomfortable, ‘really nice, but not good enough for Daddy.’
As the evening progressed, Koyal found herself often staring at the clock and wondering about Atharv. Eating at a very fancy restaurant? Dancing? Kissing? In her house? In her bed?
Koyal shook her head. There was no room for this madness in her life. Yet, she was struggling and she wondered why. The answer came to her in the midst of another recital from Mansha. Despite what Atharv had done to her, for the longest time every decision she had made, the course her life had taken could find its origins in her feelings for Atharv. To witness how easily, effortlessly even, he had moved on was turning out to be harder than she had imagined.
Atharv let himself in at close to two in the morning. The house was steeped in darkness and silence, but Atharv liked it that way and didn’t bother switching on the lights. He walked into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of chilled water. He drank it slowly, closing his eyes, focusing on the cold water as it hit his throat.
Only now that he was back home did he realize how exhausted he really was.
He walked to his bedroom and then towards his closet, switching on a bedside lamp, still thinking about all that had happened in the last few hours. Mechanically he pulled out his favourite tee and pyjamas. He unbuttoned his shirt and took it off, lost in thought.
And then someone coughed.
Atharv snapped back into the present. His hands flew to the first object he could find, a water bottle, and he readied himself for an attack, eyes darting everywhere. The crime rate in London was generally low, but one could never be too careful.
For a few moments nothing happened, but as Atharv’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, he became aware of a mound on his bed.
And then the mound heaved.
Someone, something, was there, thought Atharv, hoping, praying, that Mansha and Surya were safe.
When, in the next few moments, nothing happened, Atharv found himself stealthily moving towards the bed, ready to strike if the need arose.
Movement.
Atharv raised his hand, ready to hit whatever came out of the mound.
A slim, delicate hand appeared from under the duvet.
A silver bracelet chimed, the delicate noise cutting through the tense silence of the night. Atharv stared at the bracelet – he had seen it a million times.
Koyal.
Surprised, Atharv inched closer and gently pulled the duvet away. His eyes widened in surprise.
Mansha and Koyal were both fast asleep on his bed, curled into each other like furry little puppies.
There was something so delicate and beautiful about the little scene that met his eyes that Atharv stood there for a long time, not moving, not speaking, just staring. That Koyal had wrapped his daughter not only in her arms but in the purest kind of love her heart could hold was evident, and it made a lump form in this throat.
Inevitably, a cough escaped him. Koyal stirred and then slowly, lazily, opened her eyes.
And then everything happened at once.
‘Oh god!’ Koyal shrieked and sat bolt upright, looking visibly distraught, her hair dishevelled, eyes wide and horror-stricken.
At the shriek, Mansha woke up and proceeded to scream at the highest pitch possible. And Atharv realized he was shirtless so he leaped for the tee he had just picked out and hurriedly put it on.
Amongst the trio, Mansha was the first one to gain composure once she had gotten over the shock and stopped her screaming.
Atharv and Koyal were both mumbling incoherently and looking everywhere.
‘Oh Daddy, it’s you,’ said Mansha, sounding fairly disappointed, wrapping her arms around Koyal again. ‘Koyal Aunty,’ she said reassuringly to Koyal, ‘it’s just Daddy.’
Koyal nodded. Yes, she could see that.
‘Dadd
y,’ Mansha was saying, ‘can Koyal Aunty and I sleep here, please?’
‘Yes … yes…’ Atharv said, staring at Mansha, who had by now settled her head on Koyal’s shoulder and was looking up, drowsy and smiling.
Koyal, however, was far from smiley.
‘I’m sorry, Atharv,’ she began, her face pale. ‘I … Mansha … Mansha spent the entire evening talking only about you, and when it was bedtime, she insisted that she wanted to sleep in your bed. I tried to get her to sleep in her own room, but she insisted. I…’ Koyal touched her forehead. Could anything be more embarrassing? Whatever would Atharv think?
What Koyal had chosen not to mention to Atharv was that his bed smelled of him, and surrounded by this – a heady smell of something very clean and familiar – she had slept better than she had in ages.
‘That’s okay,’ Atharv said, looking fairly emba rassed himself, and was turning to leave the room when Mansha called after him.
‘Daddy?’
‘Yes, darling?’
‘My goodnight kiss?’
‘Oh yes,’ Atharv said with a smile that melted Koyal’s heart.
Koyal didn’t quite know where to look as, in a few quick, long strides, Atharv covered the distance from the door to the bed, leaned over Koyal and planted a kiss on Mansha’s cheek.
Why is that some moments, simple as they might seem in retrospect, have an air about them, such a magical, fuzzy, inexplicably intoxicating air that the mind begins to wander to places it should never think of revisiting?
For a brief moment, Atharv’s face was close enough for Koyal to feel his breath. Mint-fresh. Koyal inhaled and then stopped short. For Atharv was smelling of the hospital.
‘You didn’t go for the dinner then, did you?’ Mansha was asking Atharv.
‘How do you know that?’ Atharv looked genuinely surprised. ‘You little Sherlock!’
‘You smell of the hospital,’ Mansha replied, grinning.
‘Quite right, there was an emergency and I had to spend eight hours in the OT,’ he said. ‘Another time, maybe,’ he added, shrugging.
The relief that Koyal felt wash over her not only surprised her but also worried her.
Not your place, Koyal, not your place, she said to herself. He’ll hurt you again if you let him.
‘Daddy,’ came Mansha’s very awake voice, breaking Koyal’s line of thought.
‘What now?’ he said, turning around, pretending to be annoyed.
‘Please read to me?’ she asked, snuggling in closer to Koyal and grinning happily.
‘At two?’
‘Why not?’
‘I am okay,’ he said testily, ‘if Koyal doesn’t mind.’
‘Oh, no, not at all,’ Koyal said hurriedly, feeling very awkward now, lying on Atharv’s bed, in his bedroom with the main lights off.
Maybe he could just read Mansha one story and be gone quickly, she thought to herself.
‘The Russian stories?’ Atharv asked.
Just one story, Koyal prayed fiercely, a quick one. Be done and be gone before my heart restarts its funny dance, Atharv, be done and be gone.
‘No, Daddy,’ said Mansha, pointing to the book on the side table, ‘that one.’
Atharv paused, then shook his head and headed for the book.
‘Kuku and the crow!’ squealed Mansha.
Kuku and the crow?
Surely she had misheard, thought Koyal, shaking her head.
‘Kuku and the crow,’ Mansha squealed again.
Memories from their school years came rushing back to Koyal in a fresh gush of nostalgia.
‘How … how do you know about it?’ Koyal asked, turning around sharply to face Mansha, her heart racing.
Had Atharv mentioned her to Mansha? Had he spared an odd, occasional thought for his oldest friend? Koyal’s heart clung to this new hope.
‘Know what?’ Mansha looked quizzically at Koyal.
‘Kuku and the crow?’
‘It’s a book.’
‘A book?’
‘Yes, this one.’ She pointed at the book in Atharv’s hand.
Koyal turned around to look at Atharv who was looking a bit shifty. She held out her hand and Atharv handed the book to her without a word.
Her eyes large with wonder and her heart galloping, Koyal turned over the handmade book. ‘The adventures of Kuku and the crow, written and illustrated by Daddy’ said the cover of the well-thumbed book under the drawing of a schoolgirl sitting under a huge imli tree. The girl had a heart-shaped face and a mole on her lip. A black crow hovered around her.
‘The adventures of Kuku and the crow,’ she whispered in awe. She looked up at Atharv, her heart melting and her eyes questioning.
‘It was the only thing that would make her stop crying when she was little,’ he mumbled by way of explanation, shrugging his shoulders and digging his hands in his pockets, looking the most uncomfortable she’d ever seen him look.
‘We used to read it every day,’ chipped in Mansha.
Every day.
The emptiness in Koyal’s heart distorted and contorted and changed shape. Every day Koyal had spent hating Atharv, he had probably sat on this very bed and read stories about her to his motherless child.
‘Koyal Aunty, are you okay?’ Mansha asked, looking at her friend’s expression.
‘I am okay,’ Koyal said, slowly turning the pages of the book.
I am more than okay.
‘So, let me tell you a bit about Kuku,’ said Mansha chattily. ‘Kuku is fourteen, goes to school, is really cool, always listens to her father, loves maths, can do multiplications too.’
‘She does sound very cool,’ Koyal smiled at the girl’s excitement.
‘She is. And she is nice and kind too,’ added Mansha primly and Koyal smiled again.
‘And she is strong, like all girls should be. This one time,’ added Mansha, ‘she beat up all the boys.’
Koyal couldn’t help but giggle as memories of the multiple times she had beaten up boys in school came back to her.
‘Did she now?’
‘And she has the prettiest heart-shaped face you will ever see.’
Does Atharv think I am pretty?
‘However, there is one problem.’
‘What?’ Koyal asked Mansha and then looked at Atharv who had gone red in the face.
‘And that problem,’ said Mansha, enjoying this thoroughly, ‘is her temper – she loses her cool super fast!’
Koyal nodded, trying her best to hide her smile.
‘Daddy says anger is never the solution, always the problem,’ Mansha added sagely. ‘That is where the crow comes into the picture.’
‘Oh, the crow?’
‘Yes, the crow. Everyone teases him because he is so black, but Kuku being Kuku and really the nicest person you would meet, except for her temper of course, tells him he is a beautiful coffee colour.’ Mansha giggled.
Koyal smiled, thinking of their childhood when she often told Atharv that he was a beautiful coffee colour.
‘So the crow,’ Mansha was saying, ‘is the voice of reason in Kuku’s life.’
‘The voice of reason?’ Koyal raised her eyebrows, stealing a look at Atharv who couldn’t possibly look more uncomfortable.
‘Yes. The crow has a calming influence on Kuku – he is like a gentle song that shushes a baby.’
‘Is that what the crow does, now?’ she said, looking up at Atharv, her voice teasing.
‘At least it’s what the crow thinks he is doing,’ said Atharv, grinning.
‘I wonder what will happen to Kuku if the crow was not with her,’ mused Mansha, looking up at her father.
‘I know what happens to Kuku when the crow leaves her,’ Koyal said and stared at the book, very aware of Atharv’s eyes, angry and indignant, that bored into her.
29
He stood there in the darkness, rage emanating from him. She took several steps backwards, desperate to get as far away from him as was possible, but nothing seemed to be w
orking. The further she tried to move away from him, the closer Amit came.
Her eyes were fixed, horrified, at the thing in his hands. A cane.
His face was contorted with anger and he screamed as he raised his arm. Koyal felt sheer terror consume her as she ducked to avoid the blow.
Koyal got up, breathing heavily, her face covered with sweat. Hands fumbling, she reached out for the glass of water on the bedside table and gulped it down, willing her body to stop shaking like a leaf.
She sat in the darkness for a long time, hugging her knees, hating how scared she still was of the man she was no longer married to. As was often the case, anger soon gave way to helplessness.
Tears streamed down her face. She reached out for her phone and then, just like that, as it sometimes happens to all of us, she was back in time.
Those days, many, many lifetimes ago, when nightmares would wake up Koyal and Atharv, in his room across the street, would just know. And when he called, his soft voice would soothe her wildly beating heart and lull her back to sleep, feeling safe and loved.
She clasped her phone to her chest and for one mad minute allowed herself to imagine how it would feel like if it rang now.
She opened her contacts list.
Atharv Jayakrishna, it said next to a smiling, handsome face, a picture her phone had picked up from Facebook. She stared at his face and drank in the kindness in his eyes, feeling some sort of strength return to her.
And then came a fresh wave of sadness. The connection they had all those years ago was lost, never to return.
A heaviness engulfed her heart and for a few minutes, she allowed herself to droop. Then she forced herself to sit up straighter.
Two things, Koyal Raje, she mumbled to herself. One, never fear that man again. And two, never look for something that was never ever yours.
She switched on the telly and spent the rest of the night watching back-to-back episodes of Friends.
Someone to Love Page 12