The real Killer

Twenty five

Khushi stood before Pranjal. May be she had gone crazy,but she shouted. Whatever she had in her,after observing him for six years,she told him that, straight to his face. Pranjal was stunned. He might have been shocked. He might have taken it as a nightmare. But Khushi knew,from that moment,there was a barrier between herself and Pranjal. He was like a swamp she had trapped herself in..Or he was an ice cold ocean that hold her hostage.. From outside,it was a picture perfect relationship. Pranjal was that man who everyone would desire and Khushi was just a fool,sometimes crazy..

But nobody saw that the craziness of Khushi was a way she used to survive. She was trying to live. She felt too much at times. She hurted too much at times. She could not understand what was going on with her, around her at times.. And that foolish girl who was tone deaf yet dared to sing,her prayers to her Krishna, obviously she was mad..

That night she had roared..After a long long time. Pranjal had never seen that face of her,so indifferent. She had told him directly that she would cut him to pieces and feed him to street dogs. She was the same Khushi who never raised her voice to her loved ones. She was trembling. Her hands were shaking. But he had broken her. All she requested him was little bit silence,distance..To adjust. But all he did was drama. Khushi had no right over her life. Khushi was just a puppet who had to live according to him. And then he started his age old drama of counting favours..

He had done so much for Khushi. He had payed her school dues,had taken her out and what not. Khushi stood there. She looked at the man. The man with whom she wanted to spend her lifetime with. The man who had filled her partition with vermillion. She had questioned herself at that time,would he keep the worth of it? She had heard the loud no. Still she loved him. She saw every moment of their flashing infront of her eyes. She laughed..

No,she was not worth of love. Her past,it was a race. Her present a destroyed place. She looked at the man and mocked herself,so this is why he was never ready to marry her legally. So all the time,he was finding options. All the time she was just a choice. Something had told her,from the very beginning that until his ego is not hurt,until you bow down,he would stay. The moment you open up,the moment you feel so suffocated that all you wish for was breathing,he would strangle you and leave you,in ashes.

She continued to listen,his words. How he cursed her. How he laughed. How he shouted. Every night she would cry,asking herself,why was it like this. Can she never be happy?

Finally she broke. The egoistic man met the greatest ego. Sristi Singh Raizada stood before him,in all her glory. She was just a mirror. Yet way more refined. She had manners. She had dignity. She would die but not now down. She told him,she was killing herself each day,just to be his..

And the picture shattered. The glass broke. She knew she would be in pain. She had given up everything for him. Her world revolved around him. But it was not it. She had to find herself. She wished to survive. She wished to laugh,freely,dress freely. She wished to be the butterfly she was once again.. Many doors were closed,many opportunities were gone. Still she dared. Her Devi Maa was there with her. She raised her hands..

She recalled her,Draupadi,the queen of five. She watched her being dragged down the hall. She watched her own family trying to disrobe her. She watched her raise her hands in surrender..

Khushi stood silent. Yet inside her,everything called for one name..Krishna..

Nirashraya Mam Jagadisha Rakhsa..

May be she had never felt herself so free,free from herself. She had given up,on trying to hold on,to survive. She had too given herself to Him. All she prayed was Him..