Sense & Sensibilities

Someday

Amidst the unknown of everyday, Sometimes a familiar nightmare can be comforting.

Arjun knew how this played out. He will walk into his house, the door will be opened. His heart will sink the moment he steps inside, footsteps slowed and dragging. The room will be in tetters, things sprawled everywhere, turned upside down. There will be droplets of blood which he wil follow, leading him upto a fallen woman.

He will turn the woman, hands trembling, and it will be Roshni. Her eyes will be opened, unfocused.

Always open.

It went the same way tonight. He was so used to this that he no longer wakes up screaming her name on his lips. It don't faze him beyond a few hours as he broods in absolute darkness. He readied himself when he crouched down in his dream, ready to turn around the woman. Sub consciously preparing himself for the punishment his mind always throwing at him.

Then he saw the face, and he woke up screaming.

This was a new one. It came out of nowhere- he had no clue his dream would take him there.

His mind will take him there.

He ran a hand through his face, wiping away sweat and trying to calm himself down. He was shaking- that didn't happen for a long time either. If he was an addict, he would have reached out for something, ciggerate, alcohol, anything. Or maybe prayed.

The sudden thought escaped him, leaving him swallow. Wincing in pain at the huge bandage of his arm, he woke up, glaring at the darkness outside through his hotel room window.

Months ago, Dr. Riya Mukherjee left. Seemingly out of nowhere- or at least that's what he thought. He tried to make sense of it, tried to get past it. People leave all the time. It was a temporary gig for her. He always thought that she was a wrong fit for this place, should have belonged to a Different place. A part of him was happy she was going to pursue it now.

The initial shock wore off and he thought he was adjusting to her absence. She wasn't there sitting on the floor of record room. She wasn't next to coffee machine putting three cubes of sugar. She didn't throw a dart or mimicked his pen trick. There was no voice during meetings, no random facts or numbers. No one looked at a case through the lenses of how she used to. Arjun was getting used to this silence- the old one. It was odd at first, felt almost wrong. But not unfamiliar. She was unfamiliar, uncharted territory. Now that she was gone, things were almost same as before, even with the new addition of people at work.

Then came the resentment. He heard pieces of conversations of juniors – she left India apparently to pursue higher studies. Messaged and called Liza every now and then, spoke to others. He swore at times Rathore discussed about a case with her and came back next day with his own theory- the words came out of his mouth but those weren't his. Coelho sir dropped by once and they all mentioned her, and he was the only one clueless. He was nothing more than a colleague- someone who used to drop her home. Someone who spoke to her at the crack of dawn about a case. Someone who didn't had faith in her faith and questioned her on each and every steps- her belief, her theories, how she functioned as a person, her actions, every single thing. He knew the hypocrisy in his resentment- others wanted to be good to her, like a decent person should. He didn't care. And yet. . .

Yet he thought he mattered. He drove hours to meet her when she shot a person. Shared his past – albeit very less. Didn't those matter? Didn't he deserve this minimum courtesy to know the news from her, in flesh?

This is after he told her they were together in the hole.

She pulled herself up and walked away without any second glance.