Tanhaiyan | neirohi

9. little things

Manjari sat by the window, watering her Tulsi plant.

She had been running around the whole week, doing something or the other. They had a puja in house because the Pandit ji had suggested to conduct one for the well-being of the family members. The preparations kept her occupied. Then again, who in the house was not busy?

Her didi, brother-in-law and Harsh ji had not yet returned from the hospital. Abhi and Akshara were outside. She could hear the faint argument from the other room. She could've intervened, maybe she should've. After all, Parth and Shefali too were her own. But she did not.

Why?

Cause Manjari Harshvardhan Birla was tired.

She was tired, battered and alone. Who did she have? Her kids, all of them held genuine respect for her. They loved her. Yes, she was well aware. But who did she have to call her own? She wanted someone, anyone who could just listen to her. Speak to her. If not this, then at least sit with her. The language of silence also feels sweet when loneliness is all you have.

Yeh tanhaiyan.

The single tear which ran down her cheek, summed up the story of her life.

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Leaning against the leg of the sofa, he sat on the carpet.

He eyed his phone, dejected. He called his brother who replied that he had three surgeries lined up for the day. The next person he tried was his mother. Her phone was switched off. Nishta would be in college right now. She was busy as well, aspiring to make a name for herself in the field of physiotherapy. Even his best buddy Vansh was shooting for his vlog.

His last try was calling the landline at home.

The staff who picked it up informed that everyone was busy with the upcoming puja. Still he had one hope. A glimmer, the last one. A person who was available for everyone, everytime. The person who had the loveliest devar on Earth.

But the instant the call got cut, he felt uneasy.

Sighing, he plopped the apple piece into his mouth. His shoulders dropped. Out of sight, out of mind, wasn't it?

Lost was he that he did not even realize who stole his apples. Aarohi had been treating herself with the well-sliced pieces. Felt real nice to come home after work and have someone peel your apples as well. Earlier she used to just bite into it, lazy to skin the fruit. Now that the work was done by someone else, why bother?

"Earth to chamgadar."

"Sorry?"

"You should be. Waise, why so khoye-khoye sein?"

He chose to not reply. The sigh pretty much conveyed what happened as she switched glances between him and the phone. It was an easy guess. Akshu and Mr. Akshu might not have attended a certain chamgadar's call. And the others were never free. Akshu usually would've been but then again, when she had finally scored a date after ages, she was not ready to let go off her busy surgeon. Understandably, time was a tough thing to manage.

And how was she, Aarohi, aware of the date back in Udaipur?

Cause had it not been for her sister pestering her with the messages of which saree should she wear, Aarohi certainly would've reached home earlier rather than being lectured upon by her senior.

"Akshu is busy. They are out on a date."

He looked at her surprised. After hearing that, he felt worse. That is what got her confused. He was the biggest fan of his brother and sister-in-law. Why was he looking like a lost puppy now? He should be jumping with joy rather.

"Bhai told me that he had surgeries."

"He might. I'm sure Akshu dragged him away or something."

"Bhabhi is the sweetest. She'd never do something like that."

"Bhabhi ke devar, she's my sister first."

Drawing out a long sigh, he was still disappointed. Had he been home, it would've been him who was arranging the whole date. The puja as well. From the planning to the setting things up, managing these things were always left to him.

"You have nothing to do chamgadar?"

By now, he certainly knew how to detect the tone of her voice.

"Don't even think about it. I'm gonna sit back all day and relax."

"Great! I'm not giving you a choice!"

Dragging him through the floor itself, she was huffing by the time she got him out of the carpeted area. He tried in every possible way to resist. Her struggle to get him up and do the work was fun. At least, he found it funny. Finally, he showed some mercy on her as he got up on his own, laughing and dusting his pants.

He leaned back against the wall, watching her search for the cleaning material. The wait was long since all the things were misplaced. He could only watch her curiously, as she blabbered to herself on how disoriented everything was.

The woman who stood in front of him was someone who might not be the most likable person in the world and neither did she seek the validation for being one. But she was something. There was something about her that he couldn't pinpoint on.

What were they? Who was she to him?

He took the dustpan and let her have the broomstick. He might not have done the work before, but he certainly knew that holding the dustpan was easier doing the actual cleaning. Starting with the drawing room, the work began.

Trying to get collect the dirt in the dustpan, she was making sure that every speck of dust is dealt with. All work and no play, irrespective of whether it made Jack a dull boy or not, Neil was bored for sure. His mohtarma had placed strict orders on not switching on the fan. The humidity got him tired without doing anything. Accidentally, he blew out a breath, an effort to get his hair cooled. The trial was futile, but it made an even bigger mess. Glaring at the spread out dirt, Aarohi was done with it. Taking over the dustpan, she made him in-charge of the dusting.

This time, she enjoyed watching his struggle. He somehow managed to get her cracking as he complained to his brother's Mahadev. Something along the lines of even the dust particles refusing to listen to him. He was annoyed for sure but watching her laugh did lift up his spirits a bit. Just a teeny-tiny bit.

"Waise, Aaru... Jharu? Nice name, right?"

"Yeah, aur ussi Aaru ke jharu sein tumhaare sar par mei maaru?"

"Jeez chipkali, relax."

"It's broom by the way. Jha-ru is so... vernacularly middle-class. Don't mind me though, just making a point."

His mouth was left hanging open as he realized what she did. It was not funny, not at all. But the fact that someone finally, willingly had decided to play along with the puns he spun. He was moved. Truly. The effort she took, he did acknowledge it. A person like her who doesn't joke around willingly, especially with him.

Little things did mean a lot.

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