Anuseena ----- Yaaram

8: Joganya

Listening Ishq Murshid's ost tera Mera hai Pyar Amar, while writing this..

Title daikh kar to samjh gae Hoge naa k Kya hone Wala hai.
...........

Anubhav Singh had seen many shades of Haseena Malik in their three weeks of marriage: red, when she was furious; blue, bold and confident; pink, a tempting seductress; green, a bubbly girl with a joyful personality; and most importantly, black-a shade as stubborn as she was.

But he didn't know what had happened to all those shades of Haseena after their third week of marriage.

It all started with an incident when he saw Haseena coming to his school in the slum area. He heard a loud cry of a woman and immediately recognized the voice belonged to his wife's. At first, he thought he was imagining things, but when his students pointed to where she had fallen, he understood he wasn't mistaken.

The cry indeed came from his wife, who had fallen on her front and was now struggling to get up as it looked like she had sprained her ankle.

He immediately rushed over, after warning his students to stay quiet.

Kneeling in front of his wife, he saw she was in great pain. If she was here, she was probably the one who'd hired that detective, but this time, he had no interest in investigating. First, he needed to see if she was alright.

"Haseena ji, aap theek hain?" he asked, trying to see her face, which was partially hidden by her hair as she checked her ankle.

She looked up, and he was taken aback to see her eyes filled with tears. But instead of her usual dramatics, she simply nodded and looked away, as if unable to meet his gaze.

Gently, he reached for her ankle. "Humain dekhne dein."

She immediately pulled her ankle back. "Nahi, hum theek hain."

Her reaction startled him. This wasn't like her at all; she usually seized opportunities like this, yet now she seemed... disinterested?

He wasn't sure what to make of it. "Chaliye, hum apko utha lein," he offered, moving to support her. But she recoiled, almost shrieking at his suggestion.

"Kya hua, Haseena ji?"

Haseena held up her palm. "H... hum theek hain... humein uthana mat... hum khud hi uthain ge."

Despite her words, he gently gripped her arm and helped her up. She walked slowly, and on the way to his small school, he felt her intense gaze on him. He looked back, raising an eyebrow as if to ask, "What's wrong?"

She simply shook her head and looked down. He couldn't figure out what was going on with her. He guided her to a small chair and sat down on the floor to examine her ankle. "Dard ho raha hai kya?" he asked, concern clear in his tone.

The children were chattering, while some were overly curious about the newcomer.

"Sir, yeh aapki lugai hai kya?" one of the sharpest boys in the class asked.

He turned to him and nodded. "Ji, wohi hai. Aur aaj ka sabaq yahin khatam hua. Aap sab chutti karo." As soon as he announced this, cheers erupted from behind him as the students hurried off to their respective "homes."

He turned back to his wife, who was glancing around with a strange expression.

"Aap kab se yeh sub kar rahe hain?" Her voice sounded distant.

Her question startled him. "Kya...?" Then, understanding her question, he replied, "Yeh shiksha. Bas kuch saalon se hi. Jaise hi aapke dad ka qarz se farigh hue aur DSP ban gaye. Bahna bhi apne ghar ki ho gai, to humare paas kuch karne ke liye nahi tha... to hum yahan aa gaye."