Living In Oblivion

Epilogue

Five months later,

Hyderabad, India

Raindrops splashed against the window panes as Divit tightly held the pen between his fingers, his gaze fixed on the dark sky above, accompanied by the sound of thunder. His grip on the blank paper loosened, and it fell to the floor with a silent crash. He yearned to write. Desperately. But the words eluded him.

There was a constant chatter in his heart, and he found himself succumbing to the relentless voices that howled within. Yielding to their challenges, he managed to stay ahead and separate himself from those who sought to break him, as if the fragments of his being were destined to scatter with the wind.

The chaos had always been louder from the beginning, but the peace that eventually settled over the smoldering flames within him was stronger. Like an ointment, it soothed the rough edges, not the ones that were damaged since there were hardly any, but the slightly jagged ones whose surface was tough, yet softened by the gloom of vulnerability, like cotton.

It was that part of him that had battled against itself throughout his life, questioning the existence of happiness and the facade that concealed it. Divit sighed. This wasn't the time. He needed to get ready. His gaze fell once again on the crumpled sheets scattered on the floor, making him wonder why he couldn't write. If the chaos inside him was so deafening, then why did the echoes come back as gentle chimes? And if the scent of pain still lingered within the confines of his heart, why did inhaling the essence of life feel like breathing in jasmine?

His lips curved into a smile as the sound of anklets grew nearer with each passing second. The melody resonated in his ears, strumming the strings of his heart, as he held his breath, elated. His gaze softened as he turned to behold her. Avanti, draped in a purple saree, was struggling to secure an earring behind her ear. The vibrant clinking of her bangles painting his world with every shade imaginable, yet, when blinked, he still found himself immersed in his own colors, with Avanti merely a tint within him.

She was a prominent hue, basking in moonlight that illuminated even the darkest nights. Blended with such beauty that one couldn't discern whether black met white or white met black. And if it were gray, then what was that line of pink with which the black blushed?

"Divit, why aren't you ready yet? We need to go downstairs," her chiding voice interrupted his reverie.

Avanti hurried past him, her eyes searching for the other earring on the dressing table. Bending down, she checked the boxes and then her bag, "And did you talk to Milind? When is he coming?"

He watched her with a smile as she continued scolding him, updating him on all the tasks she had to complete. He couldn't believe how beautiful and effortless his life had become. It wasn't just about flowers and stars; there were still moments scorched under the sun and others seeking the solace of shade. But there was nothing consuming him from within, forcing him to question everything he found fascinating.

The nights still wavered between right and wrong. His mind wandered in myriad directions, attempting to comprehend the reasons behind the hypocrisy that pervaded the human world. His thoughts still succumbed to the silent turmoil, but now it felt easier to navigate the corridors of pain with Avanti soundly asleep in his arms.

"Did you also talk to the management about getting all the rooms cleaned on the fifth floor? Especially the bathrooms?"

Avanti turned to look at him, fixing the other earring as she picked up his suit from the bed and handed it to him. "Forget everything else for now. Go get ready first."

Accepting the suit, he placed it back on the bed. He observed as she tidied the room, organizing her belongings and packing gifts into her handbag.

"When did you first realize that you were in love with me?" The question caught her off guard. Avanti froze, her heart skipping a beat. She focused on the pouch in her hand, momentarily lost in a flood of memories. Slowly, she straightened up, turning to face him.