Tanhaiyan | neirohi

19. hope

The woman in her late thirties stood by the window, lost as she stared at nothing in particular.

The shock hadn't worn off till now. It had been two years. Two years, but she still struggled with the memory. That single moment brought her at her weakest and most vulnerable instance. Something which she could never fathom.

Two years back when she returned home after a hectic day at work, and found solace as those little hands wrapped around her neck. Everything was destroyed in seconds.

Ma.

Two-year-old Yash Birla declared, pointing at the young girl who was preparing his lunch. Her heart stopped for a second before it broke. It wasn't kind on a mother to hear her child refer to someone else like that.

Everything went downhill after that.

Her hysterical cry, the meaningless words she yelled out, the fights she got into with the entire family. Caught up in the web of marriage, motherhood and promotions, she had little time to be at home, even if it was for her child. Parth would take care of Yash, however a child's longing for his mother was difficult to control. Akshara, a savior to everyone, would take care of Yash as well, owing to how good she was with children.

Amidst all that, it ended up being an accident.

Baby Birla had heard the word Ma being thrown around so often, the child couldn't help his first word getting out at the wrong place at the wrong time. She had made up her mind. Her child won't grow up at this place. Since the past two years, four-year-old Yash Birla has been living with his maternal grandparents. This Birla will be brought up as an Agrawal. And if the dent in their marriage was already not big enough, it now certainly was after what happened.

The dusty window pane was hit by a fresh tear drop.

Shefali Birla stood there in silence, dreading of the times when she would become an Agrawal again. It was near and she could feel it. The door which shut loudly did not make her jump the way it used to, not anymore. She had no expectations left.

Hope was nothing but futile at this point.

°

Stepping in she send a sideways glance towards the clock. It was past three in the morning and she had another shift by eight. But she did miss the familiarity of her bed which made her come back, even if it was just for a short while. Busy weeks these were for sure. With the viral floating around, there had been a huge traffic in the hospital.

The dim lights at the dining area got her grumbling again, she did ask him to switch off all the lights before going to sleep. Electricity bills don't get cleared by themselves.

However, the sight of the sleeping bloke did soften her steel gaze by the slightest. He had his head rested on the table, laptop closed. Her eyes scanned over the table. A plate covered by another. Curious, she lifted it up to be met with cold food—her share, she assumed.

It felt strange. To feel your heart tug was certainly strange.

She pushed her chair back lightly, and started with her meal. The clatter of spoons broke his slumber though, making him jump back in shock on noticing the existence of a second person in the room. Her eyebrow shot up, mocking without speaking. Giving out a yawn, he raked his hand through his hair, messing up his office look. Eyes stuck on that mess, it was until he spoke that she got rid of the staring.

"Waise, thanks. For that day."

He looked away, awkwardly. As person who hardly relies on someone else to lean on, rather being everyone's shoulder, it was embarrassing for him. Never had he let his guard down before, never. He gulped, chastising himself on losing control like that. Everything felt so heavy at that time, he just wanted to break free.

And in a way, he did.

He watched her nod in acknowledgement. Knowing what was running in each other's heads. Having not had a morsel of food for the past seventeen hours, she was more concentrated on finishing the well-served platter. Spinach-cauliflower vegetable never seemed tastier. Voice drowsy, he pointed at the bedroom, "The dry cleaning dudes dropped your lehenga by the way. It's on the bed."

"Okay."

"Which reminds me, itna light shaadi ka joda?"

Choking on the chapati piece, she asked in horror, "You wanted me to look like a Christmas tree?" and placed a hand on her heart at the very thought of carrying a heavy outfit. He tore a minuscule piece from her share, and popped it into his mouth, "Idea bura nahi tha." She pushed the little of the vegetable she left towards him, and reached out for the water glass.

"You know, you can just take another plate right?"

"Mehnat."

At that she let out a laugh, which doubled over as he placed his hand on his forehead. She walked to the bedroom, to check the lehenga and he followed behind, with the plate in his hands. Brushing the net layers softly, she kept it inside, safe and secure. Might not be the ideal wedding dress but it meant a lot to her. Why? Many reasons. The finest being the fact that she was not left at the altar while wearing that. Her sight fell by the side, at the empty space.

"Chamgadar, I cleared up the cupboard. You can move in your stuff here. Baar baar tumhare suitcase seh mujhe girane ki koi zaroorat nahi."

"So kind of you Dr. Goenka! Aapne mujh jaise ek irrelevent, maasoom praani ke liye aapke precious cupboard ka aadha hissa sacrifice kiya! This should be down on the world records! An act of humanity, a valour de—"

Had he not been standing across the room, she would've resorted to physical violence for sure. Since he was out of her reach, her next step was to slam the pillow on his face. And like always, a perfect aim. He had his mouth left agape at the sudden, unexpected attack. Friend or foe, no one spares this. No one.

And the game began.

Four in the morning while the whole building was sleeping soundly, a single flat had their lights on. The chaotic mess inside was the proof. It was no less than a battlefield. To those who lost the child in them, have it rise again. And two such children fell straight on the comfy cotton, tired from the run and chase.

The endless giggles serving the only hope for tough times coming ahead.

Hope. Isn't that all it takes?

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