The Angst

Chapter 3: Confined To Heart

Mishti was taken aback by the incident. The mere thought that Abir could get hurt was frightening. The moment Abir fell down in front of a moving car, she felt as if the car had run over her!

"ABIIIR"

She was half sobbing half yelling at him for being reckless. She helped him get up on his feet. He brushed the dirt off his jeans and assured her that he was fine. But Mishti didn't listen. She made him sit on the footpath nearby. She took out a small water bottle from her handbag and offered him the water. Then, she went about thoroughly checking him for any bruises. Ankle, knees, elbows, shoulders, face, head... She wanted to make sure that he was not seriously hurt. She even flagged down an auto rickshaw for him. She didn't want him to exert himself by cycling back home. Abir was touched by this genuine concern for his wellbeing. He tried to calm her down. He suggested that he will drop her home first but she would have none of it. Mishti was still coming to terms with the freak accident and while they were sitting on the footpath, trying to figure out the next course of action, the skies opened up. Before they knew it, it was pouring heavily and they got drenched.

They took shelter in a tea shop near by. Abir ordered tea for them both. He noticed a tray full of freshly baked cream rolls stacked on the counter. He bought two.

"Cream rolls? Badi Maa would never let us have these. She said the cream spoils your throat." Said Mishti.

"You angry chorni! Making such baseless allegations against an innocent looking cream roll. It is quite harmless you know. And I love these!" He held up one in his mouth as a cigar and let out an imaginary smoke.

Mishti was in splits. Abir and his theatrics! He then told her how he as a kid used to go out with his Baba and almost always got these treats. These little rolls brought back his childhood memories. "You miss your Baba a lot?" Asked Mishti. In reply, Abir said, "I miss my childhood. But it's fine. I have made peace with life. Life has given me lemons in abundance and I'll enjoy my lemonade till it lasts." He looked towards the rain outside and was soon lost in his train of thoughts.

Mishti was looking at him in awe. He seemed content with his life. She couldn't believe her good fortune of having met him, having him as a friend. He was perfect in every sense. He was a kind hearted and compassionate soul. A super rich, super successful person who was passionate about his work. He was the most charming, handsome, happy go lucky person Mishti had ever met. The most eligible bachelor in town. And yet, here he was, sitting right next to her, having tea and bonding over their childhood memories. She failed to understand why he would even want to be friends with her. Especially after she had rejected his younger brother's alliance.

It was because of her one decision, that the two families didn't see eye to eye and here he was, standing by her side, ever ready to stand by her, unconditionally.

But why would he do that? Why was he so taken with her that he painted her? Not that she was the only person that his camera had captured or the only face that his hands had painted. He had captured countless emotions with his camera and his canvas had witnessed quite a lot of colourful, soul stirring stories brought to life by those fingers. But he had called her painting special. He had said it was important to him. Why was it so important? Was it because of her troubled past? His years of experience as a social worker and his general helping nature had made him see right through her. She felt vulnerable in front of him. At the same time she was thankful that he had her back and she could always count on him. So, was it empathy for her or was he actually in love with her? At least, that was what she had overheard him telling his Nanu.

She was so engrossed in Abir's thoughts that she didn't notice a middle aged figure walking inside the small shop covering his head with a plastic bag, his makeshift umbrella.

She was amazed at the fact that Abir loved her. But how could she ever reciprocate his feelings? There were so many ifs and buts attached to what she felt for him. True, he had a magnetic effect on her. What she felt was way beyond mere friendship. But love? What did it take to love someone? She had an obligation towards the Maheshwari family. And what about his mother? She particularly hated Mishti. What would she say? Will she ever accept the fact that Abir wanted to spend his life with Mishti?

"Ek cutting chai dena..."

Mishti snapped out of the trans she was in. Her face had an instant frown. She looked at Abir... his jaws clenched, every muscle in his body stiffened at the sound of trouble. He, was here!

Abir ushered Mishti out. Their order was prepaid for. They were about to step out, when he called from behind...

"Mishti! My child!! What a pleasant surprise to see you here!"

"What are you doing here?" Asked an agitated Mishti.

"Having tea." Said Naman.

"I am asking, what are you doing in my neighbourhood?"

"Oh! Infact I should be asking you this question. What are you doing here in such a heavy rain?" Said Naman. "And why are you roaming around with this boy? Your engagement with his brother broke up, right? Then why do you want to be seen with him? And don't you remember, he sent me to jail. "

"You deserve to be in jail."

"But I honestly didn't do anything this time. I was wrongly accused, Mishti."

"You think I care?"

"Now, Mishti... that's not the way you talk to your father, sweetheart." He approached Mishti.

Abir stepped in between them and addressed Naman, " I suggest, you back off."

"Who are you to tell me anything? I am talking to my daughter. You have already ruined a few days of my life. You sent me to the lock up for no fault of mine. Now you go away!"

"Mishti doesn't want to talk to you." Taking Mishti's hand, he said, "Come on Mishti, let's leave."

They stepped out of the shop. The rain had dropped down to a faint drizzle. Naman called out from behind...

"ABIR RAJVANSH"

Together, they both turned, to face an angry Naman Agarwal pointing a gun at them.

"You accused me of something I didn't do. I did not try to harm your mother. But now, I will definitely harm you."

"You will do no such thing." Cried Mishti.

"Yes, I will."

"Come on, Mishti. He won't dare such a foolish act in a public place. Let's go." Abir said.

"I know my father. He is quite capable of pulling the trigger."

"See? My daughter understands me so well. Now, say sorry Abir."

"Shut up, Mr. Agarwal."

"You want me to pull the trigger, then?"

"You will not harm MY Abir!" Cried Mishti, stepping in line of fire. "You will have to shoot me instead."

"As you wish." Naman.

"You will harm your own daughter?" Abir sounded disgusted.

"She was supposed to be my key for good fortune. But she didn't cooperate. She has failed to be a good daughter and she needs to be punished for that." And Naman pulled the trigger.

Abir sprang up in action. He pushed Mishti on the ground.

She looked up just in time, to see Abir's crisp white shirt turning crimson red. His denim jacket was soaked. Naman's bullet had lodged itself deep into Abir's heart.