It's cold outside, and the winds of Delhi are cruel. But something more brutal has caught her attention. She has been reminded of her mistakes, things she dared to do, and things that once made her happy. And then how it all ended left her stranded, hopeless, and weary.
"Karishma? What are you doing here?" a distant voice called out, recognizing the coat she was wearing. But Karishma was lost deep in her thoughts and oblivious to her surroundings. Her muddled brain could focus on nothing but the still images from the party, replaying repeatedly.
"Karishma? Are you okay?" Finally, the voice gets her attention.
Karishma struggles with her breath but tries her best not to exhibit. "I can't...I can't, Sara...I can't get in there. I won't go in there."
"What has gotten into you? Is this about the kiss? Seriously Karishma? I didn't realize it was that big of a deal. I am sorry. Now let's go inside."
"Not everything is about you," Karishma said, her voice trembling with an emotion she couldn't quite name. She paused, feeling the weight of the words but not fully grasping their meaning. She needed space—desperately. "Could you stay away from me? I don't want to talk right now." With that, Karishma turned away; her steps hurried as she left Sara standing there, confusion etched on her face.
Sara refuses to let go so easily. She runs behind her before she can even feel the impact of Karishma's words in her chest. " I am sorry, Karishma. Please don't behave like this. Let's go home."
"Can't you see Sara? " Karishma's anger surged, overwhelming her. She didn't realize how loud, rude, and disrespectful she sounded. "Leave me alone! For a few minutes, please."
Karishma's smudged and watery eyes are asking Sara to leave her alone. Sara knows Karishma will hate her if she insists on staying. She knows that it is Karishma's nature not to let anyone in when she feels vulnerable, and Sara is no exception. As much as it pains Sara to see Karishma like this, she knows she will only worsen it if she stays.
"I am in the car when you need me." Sara left for the parking area, acting as if Karishma's insolence words had not pierced her heart.
Karishma wipes her tears, clears her voice, and dials her assistant's number. "Hey Trisha"
"Karishma? Where are you? Officials are asking for you, and you know our media director; he wants to show off your work to the people from The Vice. He has been boasting about you all evening. Get here before he gets drunk and starts cursing the whole department because of you. "
Karishma's hand tightened around her phone, her knuckles turning white. She took a deep breath, trying to steady her voice. "Listen to me, Trish. I can't be there now. And tell Abhinandan that I want to cover the war." She paused, swallowing hard. "Hell! Anything outside India."
Trisha's voice was laced with disbelief. "You are drunk already? You know how important this party is." Karishma was an occasional drinker and never touched a drop of alcohol at work events. But Trisha was convinced that only a drunk Karishma could utter something like this.
Karishma has dedicated the last three years to her docuseries. It started with her volunteer work in cultural exchange with The Partition Archives. She incorporated the idea of reviewing the shared heritage of South Asia, a heritage primarily destroyed by the British and subsequently by the governments across borders in the name of nationalism. She felt a deep need to connect people across the borders, to create empathy amid the tornado of hatred that had captured most people. The casualties would only increase with time, she knew. There was a need for a platform or something that would spread more love and peace, a way to help people feel secure in diversity rather than fearing it.
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