Soulmates

Chapter 13

Dhruv was pacing around his house in disbelief with the divorce papers in his hand, while Mythili was seated near him. The living room was dim and unreadable.

"How can she be so cold? At least she could have told me." He said almost wringing the file in his hand.

"Dhruv, you both were planning for it, weren't you? Why are you so surprised?" Mythili said looking at him from the corner of her eyes, studying his body language. Her gaze shifted to the papers in his hand.

"I mean with so much time living under the same roof I know she was not someone who would do something like this."

Mythili stiffened. "Maybe she couldn't muster the courage to say goodbye and this was easier."

"There is no excuse; she should have talked to me first before signing the papers."

"Dhruv, she has no intention of doing so, please understand. Why else has she not picked your calls."

"There is something wrong." He said raking his hand into his hair, his jaw clenching.

"I'm sure Raj must have pushed her to do this. It is okay to be a bit possessive." She said shrugging.

"Possessive? What about closure? A proper closure was necessary." Dhruv throws the file on the table.

"Dhruv, now let go of it, will you? You need to realize that she has chosen to move on and so should you." Mythili picks the file and tries to flatten the creases.

"It would have been much easier for me if I had a chance to talk it out with her, face to face."

"Dhruv, there is a reason she chose to do it this way."

"I don't know. I mean... what does she think of herself? So selfish of her to do this. Give me those damned papers, I will sign them and have her know."

Mythili was quick in producing the papers, afraid if Dhruv would change his mind and Dhruv did sign the papers with much angst.

Siya's Farmhouse:

She had thought several times about her meeting with the soothsayer, she mentally even had an imaginary conversation with her, she imagined how the soothsayer looked and what would be her tone and how her house would be dotted with interesting objects that had stories behind them. The soothsayer would probably move her hands in a strange fashion, she would probably have a hoary deck of oracle cards that she would use for divination. Was she scared of the soothsayer touching her deep abyss of innermost fears and secrets, would she bear her heart or hide from her? She was not sure but she was very curious, she need to fill some gaps, so she decided she would do something about it. The magazine never had a photo of hers, just an article that ended with her number. Photos could do strange things, they had the ability to transport you back to that moment or remind you of your forgotten feelings.

She never looked at his photos, she never cried for him, only she severely longed for him, for his warm embrace, she wanted to be with him, by his side, to hold his hands as they walked, to watch him sleep, to feel him breathe as they spooned. She wanted to cook for him, fold his clothes, and smile at his intricate talks, discuss her day over tea in porcelain cups, she wanted to see both of them move slice by slice in the thick of life. She now knew he had liked her, only that she was blind back then, failed to see, to realize, to read his expressions, to interpret his words, in fact he had said something Shakespearean "Rose, by any other name would smell as sweet..." and she had replied something stupid, she had not read Shakespeare, she did not like tragedies, she did not like Shakespeare, she was so stupid, so, so stupid. He had said this to her under a moonlit sky, in the witness of a million twinkling stars. It was subtle and romantic, they were just a boy and girl under the bare sky. He was calm and natural that night, those were words from his heart. Oh! How she wished she could go back in time and say how much she loved him. She did not know then and she paid for it. He would later marry a name perhaps. She was broken, her heart shattered into a thousand pieces and like a broken mirror with all its pieces, but still reflecting the same image, all her broken pieces ached and quivered for him. She only knew she had to survive, yet she could not let go of this feeling, she could not feel the same for anybody else. She could not stop thinking about him and he will continue to do what he will do. May be he will do it for Love, after all one can only forsake love only for something that is as akin to love and nothing less. May be she can understand Love better because of him, maybe soul mates only touch you for a brief moment to stir up your entire life and then leave you all changed, you can't change it back. You can never undo a touch can you? She never hated him, she was only heart broken, his touch came back to her to haunt her, and she knew then and she knew it now that how much he loved her. His touch was different, it had a way to converse. It waited for a while always as if to read what was told this end. She still remembered the way his fingers would find hers, his fingers an extension of his aching soul. This feeling, subtle yet implosive was transforming. It was as if she blossomed into a woman in his very palm. Seemingly disremembered emotions struck her heart now, no it was not love at first sight but the acknowledging of a distant recall, of receiving back something that belonged to you in a different land, a different time and dimension. It was the joy of finding the same thing and putting it back where it belonged.