Haunting Memories

Chapter 1

Ritika stood at the large window in the study, looking out at the green grounds rolling into the distance, bordering the forest beyond. Her right hand rested on the window frame longingly, as she remembered the many times that she had ridden her horse to the corners of their land. Her land now.

A sad smile played on her lips. Soon, not even hers.

A sigh escaped her lips, and she smoothed out the white silk mourning sarree she wore. It had been months since the accident, and her friends and family told her she could stop wearing the colour, but she hadn’t the heart or the strength to wear bright colours. In all honestly, she felt bright colours had no right to exist. How could vibrant red or deep violet or sunset yellow colour the land, the skies, and the towns, when the colours in her own heart and soul had slowly faded into nothing. She could not bear the inappropriately large amounts of joy bright colours seemed to burst with. The only colour she could relate to was grey. And white.

She straightened the position of the mug on the shelf next to the window and looked at her thin, frail hands. He used to say she had an artist’s hands. She had stopped painting as well. It was, again, the colours that bothered her. 

She looked around the room. The lamp cast a soft light on the carved chairs, the ornate tables and the bookshelves lined with priceless books and textbooks. She wasn’t a reader, she didn’t need all this. She could give it away. 

But he used to love to read. He spent years in making this collection. How could she let it all go? A small sob surfaced, and she lowered herself onto one of the cushioned chairs. She loved him too much, and she loved the home they had created. She did not want to part with it. She tried to remember why she had decided to sell their mansion. 

She couldn’t take care of such a huge property by herself. The place was isolated, she couldn’t live here all alone. And the memories wouldn’t let her leave the past behind. She was young. She needed to move on in life.

What else had her friends and family told her?

She took a deep breath, willing her mind to be practical, analytical. She couldn’t be an emotional fool. Even Aarav wouldn’t have wanted that.

With renewed strength, she stood again, and couldn’t help returning to the window. She loved this place, not only because it was her home, but for what it was. She loved the wide open grounds of lush green grass and the beautiful gardens filled with flowers of every kinds. She loved the stables, the sheds, the animals they held. She loved the huge mansion, filled with large, spacious rooms and halls. She loved the collection of vases, paintings and antiques, the four poster beds, the drapes...

She loved it all. Yet what would she do with it all, all alone? Already she was having trouble sleeping at night.

A knock on the door made her heart sink. It was time. She took a moment to gather her bearings.

“Come in,” she finally called out.

A maid-servant scurried in. She glanced up once, to check on the pale face of her mistress, but was confronted by her back.

“He has arrived, ma’am.”

Still facing the window, Ritika nodded.

On obtaining no verbal response, the maid continued, “He is awaiting you in the sitting room downstairs.”

“Get him some tea. I’m coming.”

The maid bowed and retreated.

Ritika tried to fill the images of the land in her eyes. How it looked when it belonged to her. Realizing that she would never be satisfied, she turned and left the room.