Click here for Part I
Sharada felt heart-broken. Caught up in her own misery, she remained inure to the eyes turning towards her. She was puzzled at Harish's abrupt departure. She was hurt that he had not said a word about her performance. And to think that she had kept her eager parents away for today's debut, pretending she was nervous, all the while hoping to make it special for Harish and her. What a fool, oh, what a fool! She looked up with eyes flashing, and came to her senses as she realised she was still in the dining room. Prying eyes turned towards her, making her realise that she was being melodramatic.
She slowly got up. "Would you like anything ma'am?" a waiter asked. She shook her head and stepped out. She had not brought her two wheeler, expecting Harish would want to drop her home after dinner. She slowly walked down the entrance, the portico, towards the gate, feeling crushed.
A two wheeler zoomed ahead and then stopped by the gate.
She stood paralysed, knowing it was Harish. He got off the bike and waited with the helmet in his hands. She roused herself and walked slowly towards him, anger dominating her emotions.
"Don't you have your scooter? Get on, I will drop you home," he said.
"No need. I can take care," she said and hated herself for the tremor in her voice. She sniffed and was mortified that her lachrymose eyes had turned traitors.
He reached out and grabbed her hand. "I am sorry, okay?" he said in cold fury.
She jerked her hand to free herself, but he pulled her closer, his grip tightening and hurting her wrist. A passing car stopped. "Can we help you?" a lady rolled down the car window and asked.
Sharada glared at him and he didn't take his eyes off her. For a moment, she was tempted to get him into trouble. But the eyes boring into her switched some emotion on. He must have noticed a change for his grip loosened.
"No, thank you," she replied with a stiff smile.
"You sure?"
"Yes, just a misunderstanding," she responded and turned to face the lady, smiling more reassuringly.
"Lover's tiff," the lady laughed and informed her companion and went her way. Blushing furiously, Sharada looked at him again, demanding an explanation. His eyes eloquently expressed his helplessness. "Let's go somewhere where we can talk, please."
"I booked us a table here... I wanted..." she chewed her lip. "I thought it would be special."
He took her hands in his. "Please, I am sorry... But not here..."
The plea in his voice broke her defenses. She silently got on the bike, holding the handle attached to the seat. His hand sought hers and brought it around his waist. She leaned on his back, her head on his shoulder, and felt a fresh bout of tears flow down her cheeks. He squeezed her hand.
He took her to the cafe they usually spent their evenings in. When they were seated, a silence lingered as both waited for the other to start. Finally, he did. "I... You said you were a singer. And we always discussed Carnatic music... Seeing you sing in a bar... I... I couldn't reconcile the image..."
She frowned. "That's all!?" she asked in disbelief. "All this drama was because I sang in a bar?"
"Yes, no! I mean... I expected you to be a classical singer..."
She shrugged. "We have discussed music threadbare... But you are not a singer, are you?" she pointed out coolly.
"Well..." he shrugged, unable to explain his dilemma. "My family is very conservative. They are the concert going type... Carnatic, I mean," he said, without explaining why that should concern her.
"And I thought you would be more modern, working in an IT company," obliquely referring to her own interest in him.
He fell silent. She didn't know what more to say. They seemed to have said everything they wanted to and sat silently, staring at each other, hoping the other would understand. Finally, seeing it was heading nowhere, Sharada got up. "I am late, thanks..." and she left, disappointed that he did not try to stop her.
Harish wanted to ask her to stop, to pour out his feelings, to at least offer to drop her. But he felt strangely tongue tied and confused.
Their worlds had collided suddenly. And just as suddenly, the two seemed to move in different orbits. Sharada felt her days stretch indefinitely. When she attended a concert, she would turn instinctively to discuss the singer or the raga, and then shut up realising she was not with Harish. The memory of their last conversation would intrude and plunge her into depression. Her eyes would covertly seek him out in the audience, and yet, she was apprehensive lest she did find him there.
Sometimes, when she performed, she thought she detected him in the shadows, only to dismiss that thought instantly. How foolish to have given her heart out without understanding him first. And now, to suffer because of that. But much as she tried to harden herself, a raaga here, a singer there brought with them memories of her time spent with Harish. Music had brought them together and, ironically, separated them too.
It angered her to think that only she seemed to suffer. He hadn't once tried to get in touch with her in all these weeks since the night of her debut. Her pride stood in the way of her reaching out to him. She hesitated to broach her friend for any news about Harish.
So when she saw him just outside the venue of her program a few weeks later, she continued walking without a second glance. Her face felt warm as blood rushed to her cheeks, her heart beat fast and her throat went dry. In his presence, the world seemed to shut itself out.
She heard footsteps behind her and quickened her pace, torn between fear that he would try to talk to her, and that he didn't care enough to talk to her.
She heard him humming one of the tunes she had sung that evening and her head jerked up involuntarily.
"Sharada," he called out as her pace slackened. She stopped and turned to look at him with a 'what now' expression.
He caught up. "How are you?"
She shrugged, not trusting her voice.
He gestured for them to continue walking, but she remained standing, her eyes boring into him. "What is it, Harish?"
He looked at her in surprise. "It's been a while... I thought we could catch up..."
She took a deep breath, to drown the sound of her heart breaking. "Oh, a social call, is it? Glad that you remembered me," she said bitingly.
He chuckled wryly. "As if I can ever forget you."
She couldn't fathom his feelings. "I am sorry if it pains you," she said, her voice sounding edgy. She started walking away and he fell in step beside her.
"That is all it has been," he said quietly. "Pain." Without looking at her, he asked in a matter of fact tone, "Do you understand that pain, Sharada?" She inhaled sharply, her heart trembling, her tongue stilled. He chuckled bitterly at her silence. "I have tried hard to keep away. In the shock of seeing you singing western numbers in a bar, I had let my disappointment and anger flood me. But as those feelings ebbed, I remembered how your voice filled me with a strange sensation. I longed to hear you again. I didn't expect I would enjoy rock or pop so much, but I have probably listened to more of that in the last few weeks than Carnatic... And your voice..." He again hummed a tune from her evening's performance.
"You don't sing badly, either," Sharada whispered in an uncertain voice.
"Thanks..."
"Were you there in some of my shows too?" she asked hesitantly.
"Every one of them."
"Why didn't you meet me earlier?" she demanded.
"After my churlish behaviour... I didn't think I merited your attention..."
"What's different today?" she asked softly.
He stopped abruptly and looked at her. "I am unable to sleep at night, Sharada. I am filled with thoughts of you, of the time we spent together, your voice..." She stared at him with her eyes wide open. "Sorry," he added hastily. "I am not stalking you or any such thing. If nothing else, I at least owe you a thanks for broadening my interests." He pointed to a spot a little way away. "My bike is parked at the end of the street. You are free to walk your way. But if you care to join me, I will feel honoured."
"You want me to walk this stretch till the bike with you?" she asked, her eyes narrowed and glaring at him.
He bowed. "Only if you want to. I promise..."
"What if I want to walk further? What if I don't want to leave your side?" she asked, laughing through tears as she linked her arm with his.
He looked at their linked hands stunned. "What! You mean..."
"Pain, Harish," she said grinning. "I know that pain too..." And then, she put her arms around him. It took him a moment to realise that he was not dreaming, that she was really hugging him.
His arms went around her and crushed her to him.
They had to quickly disentangle, this being a public road. But now that they know how the other felt, finding private moments needed very little ingenuity.
Concluded
Sharada felt heart-broken. Caught up in her own misery, she remained inure to the eyes turning towards her. She was puzzled at Harish's abrupt departure. She was hurt that he had not said a word about her performance. And to think that she had kept her eager parents away for today's debut, pretending she was nervous, all the while hoping to make it special for Harish and her. What a fool, oh, what a fool! She looked up with eyes flashing, and came to her senses as she realised she was still in the dining room. Prying eyes turned towards her, making her realise that she was being melodramatic.
She slowly got up. "Would you like anything ma'am?" a waiter asked. She shook her head and stepped out. She had not brought her two wheeler, expecting Harish would want to drop her home after dinner. She slowly walked down the entrance, the portico, towards the gate, feeling crushed.
A two wheeler zoomed ahead and then stopped by the gate.
She stood paralysed, knowing it was Harish. He got off the bike and waited with the helmet in his hands. She roused herself and walked slowly towards him, anger dominating her emotions.
"Don't you have your scooter? Get on, I will drop you home," he said.
"No need. I can take care," she said and hated herself for the tremor in her voice. She sniffed and was mortified that her lachrymose eyes had turned traitors.
He reached out and grabbed her hand. "I am sorry, okay?" he said in cold fury.
She jerked her hand to free herself, but he pulled her closer, his grip tightening and hurting her wrist. A passing car stopped. "Can we help you?" a lady rolled down the car window and asked.
Sharada glared at him and he didn't take his eyes off her. For a moment, she was tempted to get him into trouble. But the eyes boring into her switched some emotion on. He must have noticed a change for his grip loosened.
"No, thank you," she replied with a stiff smile.
"You sure?"
"Yes, just a misunderstanding," she responded and turned to face the lady, smiling more reassuringly.
"Lover's tiff," the lady laughed and informed her companion and went her way. Blushing furiously, Sharada looked at him again, demanding an explanation. His eyes eloquently expressed his helplessness. "Let's go somewhere where we can talk, please."
"I booked us a table here... I wanted..." she chewed her lip. "I thought it would be special."
He took her hands in his. "Please, I am sorry... But not here..."
The plea in his voice broke her defenses. She silently got on the bike, holding the handle attached to the seat. His hand sought hers and brought it around his waist. She leaned on his back, her head on his shoulder, and felt a fresh bout of tears flow down her cheeks. He squeezed her hand.
He took her to the cafe they usually spent their evenings in. When they were seated, a silence lingered as both waited for the other to start. Finally, he did. "I... You said you were a singer. And we always discussed Carnatic music... Seeing you sing in a bar... I... I couldn't reconcile the image..."
She frowned. "That's all!?" she asked in disbelief. "All this drama was because I sang in a bar?"
"Yes, no! I mean... I expected you to be a classical singer..."
She shrugged. "We have discussed music threadbare... But you are not a singer, are you?" she pointed out coolly.
"Well..." he shrugged, unable to explain his dilemma. "My family is very conservative. They are the concert going type... Carnatic, I mean," he said, without explaining why that should concern her.
"And I thought you would be more modern, working in an IT company," obliquely referring to her own interest in him.
He fell silent. She didn't know what more to say. They seemed to have said everything they wanted to and sat silently, staring at each other, hoping the other would understand. Finally, seeing it was heading nowhere, Sharada got up. "I am late, thanks..." and she left, disappointed that he did not try to stop her.
Harish wanted to ask her to stop, to pour out his feelings, to at least offer to drop her. But he felt strangely tongue tied and confused.
Their worlds had collided suddenly. And just as suddenly, the two seemed to move in different orbits. Sharada felt her days stretch indefinitely. When she attended a concert, she would turn instinctively to discuss the singer or the raga, and then shut up realising she was not with Harish. The memory of their last conversation would intrude and plunge her into depression. Her eyes would covertly seek him out in the audience, and yet, she was apprehensive lest she did find him there.
Sometimes, when she performed, she thought she detected him in the shadows, only to dismiss that thought instantly. How foolish to have given her heart out without understanding him first. And now, to suffer because of that. But much as she tried to harden herself, a raaga here, a singer there brought with them memories of her time spent with Harish. Music had brought them together and, ironically, separated them too.
It angered her to think that only she seemed to suffer. He hadn't once tried to get in touch with her in all these weeks since the night of her debut. Her pride stood in the way of her reaching out to him. She hesitated to broach her friend for any news about Harish.
So when she saw him just outside the venue of her program a few weeks later, she continued walking without a second glance. Her face felt warm as blood rushed to her cheeks, her heart beat fast and her throat went dry. In his presence, the world seemed to shut itself out.
She heard footsteps behind her and quickened her pace, torn between fear that he would try to talk to her, and that he didn't care enough to talk to her.
She heard him humming one of the tunes she had sung that evening and her head jerked up involuntarily.
"Sharada," he called out as her pace slackened. She stopped and turned to look at him with a 'what now' expression.
He caught up. "How are you?"
She shrugged, not trusting her voice.
He gestured for them to continue walking, but she remained standing, her eyes boring into him. "What is it, Harish?"
He looked at her in surprise. "It's been a while... I thought we could catch up..."
She took a deep breath, to drown the sound of her heart breaking. "Oh, a social call, is it? Glad that you remembered me," she said bitingly.
He chuckled wryly. "As if I can ever forget you."
She couldn't fathom his feelings. "I am sorry if it pains you," she said, her voice sounding edgy. She started walking away and he fell in step beside her.
"That is all it has been," he said quietly. "Pain." Without looking at her, he asked in a matter of fact tone, "Do you understand that pain, Sharada?" She inhaled sharply, her heart trembling, her tongue stilled. He chuckled bitterly at her silence. "I have tried hard to keep away. In the shock of seeing you singing western numbers in a bar, I had let my disappointment and anger flood me. But as those feelings ebbed, I remembered how your voice filled me with a strange sensation. I longed to hear you again. I didn't expect I would enjoy rock or pop so much, but I have probably listened to more of that in the last few weeks than Carnatic... And your voice..." He again hummed a tune from her evening's performance.
"You don't sing badly, either," Sharada whispered in an uncertain voice.
"Thanks..."
"Were you there in some of my shows too?" she asked hesitantly.
"Every one of them."
"Why didn't you meet me earlier?" she demanded.
"After my churlish behaviour... I didn't think I merited your attention..."
"What's different today?" she asked softly.
He stopped abruptly and looked at her. "I am unable to sleep at night, Sharada. I am filled with thoughts of you, of the time we spent together, your voice..." She stared at him with her eyes wide open. "Sorry," he added hastily. "I am not stalking you or any such thing. If nothing else, I at least owe you a thanks for broadening my interests." He pointed to a spot a little way away. "My bike is parked at the end of the street. You are free to walk your way. But if you care to join me, I will feel honoured."
"You want me to walk this stretch till the bike with you?" she asked, her eyes narrowed and glaring at him.
He bowed. "Only if you want to. I promise..."
"What if I want to walk further? What if I don't want to leave your side?" she asked, laughing through tears as she linked her arm with his.
He looked at their linked hands stunned. "What! You mean..."
"Pain, Harish," she said grinning. "I know that pain too..." And then, she put her arms around him. It took him a moment to realise that he was not dreaming, that she was really hugging him.
His arms went around her and crushed her to him.
They had to quickly disentangle, this being a public road. But now that they know how the other felt, finding private moments needed very little ingenuity.
Concluded
Nice
ReplyDeleteThank you
Delete