The Waves Whisper ✓

15 | the blackest day | mature

This chapter contains some mature scenes, so if you're not comfortable reading it or you're underage please skip those parts marked as mature.

11
𓂃𓊝𓂃

October 30, 1970
Diwali

Hundreds of oil lamps in front of the houses glinted in the darkness of the night as the car steered through the unpaved road. Even though it was Diwali-the festival of lights, it felt like the blackest day of my life. Vikram sat beside me in an off-white groom's attire. I got married to him at my house that night, in the presence of a few guests. My stepmother didn't let me invite Khushi or inform Neelam about the marriage. We were heading to the train station so that we could take the train to Delhi, where he resided. He had an apartment in Delhi, where he lived alone while making a living from writing stories for magazines. The car rode past the Rathore house. The whole house was adorned with oil lamps. My heart ached when I saw it. I had the impression that my heart was made of fabric, and something or someone from that house yanked the loose thread at the end of the fabric, slowly unravelling my heart. And I left my ruined heart there, in some corner of the bookshelf in that dark and moody library.

After a lengthy train ride that lasted nearly eighteen hours, we arrived at Vikram's house in Mayur Vihar just as the sun was setting. The vicinity seemed quiet and serene. There was a pink bougainvillaea tree that grew very close to the building. He lived on the second floor of the building. I was worn out and drowsy from the journey, and I used the little energy that was left in me to carry my baggage upstairs. It was a compact flat with a living room, kitchen, bathroom and one bedroom. There was also a balconette with some flowering plants growing on its rails. The apartment clearly looked like a 27-year-old writer lived there. There were fewer utensils in the kitchen because he ate his food from restaurants most of the time; the chairs in the living room were misplaced and misaligned; cigarette butts were under his writing table, which was in the bedroom; and I also noticed some empty alcohol bottles.

"You can cook dinner in there." He said, pointing towards the kitchen. That was the longest sentence he had said to me since our wedding. My head was throbbing with pain from sitting idle inside the train for a long period of time, and all I wanted to do was sleep, not cook something. I went to the kitchen after changing into a Sari.

I sat across the dining table from Vikram. "You cook good for your age." He said as he ate the roti and dal I made. "Sixteen-year-old girls here in Delhi can't even make tea properly." He tore another piece of roti and shoved it in his mouth. I didn't know what to do with that compliment he gave me while ridiculing other girls my age.

"There were only a few groceries in the kitchen." I said.

"You can buy it from the stores down the street." He said as he sat up after finishing his food.

[mature content ahead]

I took a bath after washing the utensils and cleaning the kitchen. When I came into the room, Vikram was sitting at the table with a fuming cigarette between his middle and point fingers while writing something on the paper.

"You came early." He said, noticing me.

"There wasn't much to do in the kitchen." I said.

"Good." He said and took a puff from the cigarette. He looked at me up and down and slowly yanked me towards him.

"You always look sad." He said, sitting on the chair. "I don't like this sad face. You understand?" He asked as he snaked his right arm around my waist. I nodded my head while looking down in response. He stood up from the chair. "Look at me." He said, almost like a command. I raised my head and looked into his eyes for the first time. His gaze landed on my lips. My heartbeat rose as if I were running up a mountain. He put his lips on mine. His lips were rough and tasted like cigarettes. His hands slithered under my blouse. I closed my eyes, praying for it to end soon. I don't know when he took me to the bed or when he undressed me. But I remember when he was on top of me, showing his bare body. Tear drops escaped my eyes as the sudden stinging pain shot through every nerve in my body. I heard his gasps and grunts with each passing second. I gasped for breath like a fish out of the river. My thoughts slowly drifted away to the things my mind has ever desired. It wasn't him! It wasn't him that my mind wanted me to picture! When I opened my eyes, I was met with a pair of honey-brown eyes and curly, dark hair. For a split second, I felt euphoric and ecstatic. I was pulled out of the trance as Vikram collapsed into the crook of my neck after what felt like thirty seconds. He quickly dozed off after rolling to the other side. I kept staring at the ceiling until I fell asleep around 2 a.m. in the morning.

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