The Sinister

24.

“But Badi Maa, they are in love” Ishi says dramatically, widening her eyes and placing her hand on her chest as she looks at her Badi Maa and Maa for support.

“Tum teeno ka dimag bas in sab cheezon me hi laga rahta hai” Kavita says, completely ignoring Yuv, Om and Ishi’s words.

(You three only use your brains for these kinds of things)

“Chachi, how can you say this? We are discussing such an important topic” Yuv says in a complaining tone, crossing his arms over his chest.

Kavita shakes her head in disbelief and Pallavi also shakes her head slowly, sighing at their childish behavior.

“Aap dono na buddhi ho gai ho is liye dimag nahi chal raha hai aapka” Om says as he lazily lies down on the bed, placing one arm under his head. The other two immediately nod their heads in agreement.

(You both have grown old, that’s why your brains are not working)

“Gal lal karu Om tumhara” Pallavi says sweetly but her eyes narrow slightly as she steps toward him.

(Shall I make your cheeks red, Om?)

Om gulps loudly, his smile instantly disappearing as he sits up straight on the bed.

“Are Maa and Badi maa, dimag chalao aap apna. Bhai ne us Liyara ko kuch nahi kiya itne dino se jab wo bhai ko hairan kar rahi thi but bhai ne use goli mar di because she raised her hand at bhabhi” Ishi says seriously now, her dramatic tone fading as she explains everything.

Pallavi and Kavita look at each other deeply, their playful expressions slowly turning thoughtful.

(Oh Maa and Badi maa, use your brains. Brother did nothing to that Liyara for so many days when she was troubling him but he shot her because she raised her hand at sister-in-law)

“Baat to sahi hai but Sita ko yaha nahi rehna hai. She was saying that she will leave Zayran soon” Kavita says in a worried voice, pressing her lips together.

(That is true but Sita does not want to stay here. She was saying that she will leave Zayran soon)

Pallavi nods her head slowly in agreement, concern clearly visible on her face. The three youngsters instantly make sad faces, their shoulders dropping in disappointment.

“Wo dono ek number ke jhute hai. Bolte kuch hai aur karte kuch hai” Yuv says in frustration, running his hand through his hair as he stands up abruptly.

(Those two are number one liars. They say something and do something else.)

“Aur aap dono ko dadi banna hai ya nahi” Om says suddenly, raising his eyebrow with a mischievous smile as he looks at Pallavi and Kavita.

(And do you both want to become grandmothers or not?)

Pallavi and Kavita instantly nod their heads eagerly, their eyes lighting up with excitement and hope.

“Ye hui na baat. Is liye aap dono ko hamari madad karni hogi bhai aur bhabhi ko aur kareeb lane ke liye” Ishi says confidently, placing her hands on her waist like she has already made a perfect plan.

(This is what I am talking about. That’s why you both will have to help us bring brother and sister-in-law closer)

Pallavi gulps nervously, her confident expression fading as fear slowly appears on her face.

“But what if he gets angry and.... Dhichkiyaon” Pallavi says, her voice lowering as she makes a small gun gesture with her fingers. The three of them immediately get up from the bed and walk toward her, trying to calm her fear.

“He will not. Haan agar dadi hoti to shayad hi goli maar dete but aap dono ko nahi. Because you guys are his favorite” Yuv says reassuringly, crossing his arms with confidence.

(Yes, if it were grandmother, then maybe he would have shot but not you both)

The others chuckle softly, imagining the situation.

“Wait, tum dono company nahi gaye?” Kavita suddenly shouts, her eyes widening in shock as she realizes they are supposed to be at work.

(Wait, didn’t you both go to the company?)

“We will go now” they both say together with wide grins and before the ladies can scold them, they quickly run out of the room.

Pallavi and Kavita sigh deeply in relief, placing their hands on their chests, finally getting some silence.

—

“Boss, you were right. Raze attacked you after knowing that you have lost your warehouse in the blast” Grover says as he walks inside his office.

Zayran sits calmly on his chair, sketching something on a paper with full focus. His fingers move smoothly over the paper. He does not look up but he nods his head slightly, listening carefully to Grover’s words.

“And these are a few pictures I got. He is Raze but his face is covered with a mask and it is not clear” Grover says as he steps forward and places a few pictures on the table in front of him. Zayran stops sketching.

He slowly grabs the pictures, his fingers tightening slightly around them as his eyes scan every detail carefully.

The man in the pictures is wearing normal clothes, his face hidden behind a mask. A chain hangs around his neck, resting over his chest.

Zayran’s eyes narrow slightly as he keeps staring at the chain, his mind silently observing every small detail.

“And I also got to know that Raze is someone from your family or someone close” Grover says carefully, watching his boss’s reaction.

Zayran slowly leans back on his chair, the leather creaking softly under his weight. His eyes lift and settle on Grover’s face.

His fingers tap lightly on the armrest as he thinks deeply, his mind already connecting invisible dots.

“Who do you think Raze is?” he asks calmly, his voice low and dangerous as he slowly swings his chair left and right.

He takes out a cigarette from the packet and lights it with smooth movements. The flame flickers for a second before disappearing. He brings the cigarette to his lips and takes a slow puff, his chest rising and falling steadily as smoke fills his lungs.

Grover looks at him for a moment, his throat going dry. Fear crawls inside him but he gathers courage and speaks.

“It is either Sita madam or Laksh sir. Because we know who madam is and about Laksh sir… you killed his father, so…” Grover says honestly, choosing his words carefully. “But there is more chance that it is Laksh sir because Raze is a man”

Zayran nods his head slightly, he takes another slow puff, the smoke escaping from his lips smoothly.

“Boss… Sita madam is finding a job” Grover says after a few seconds of heavy silence.

Zayran’s movements suddenly stop. His fingers freeze mid-air. His eyes slowly shift and stare at the table.

“Hm” he hums quietly, the sound deep, making Grover blink in confusion.

“Commissioner was calling” Grover informs again carefully. A faint smile slowly appears on Zayran’s lips but it does not reach his eyes.

“Call him” he orders. He stands up from his chair with slow and walks out of the room. He walks toward the garden, the cool air brushing against his face.

Grover quickly makes the call and walks behind him, then hands him the phone respectfully.

“Why are you making my son suffer?” the commissioner says angrily, his voice breaking slightly with helplessness.

Zayran takes another slow puff from his cigarette, his eyes staring at nothing in particular. Without any hurry, he removes the cigarette from his lips and throws it aside carelessly, crushing it under his shoe.

“Your son asked my wife for a chance in front of me, knowing very well that she is married” Zayran says, his jaw tightening as he looks toward his room balcony, his eyes dark and unreadable.

“And just to save my wife from filthy people, I teach your son a SmAlL lesson” he says in a calm voice.

On the other side, the commissioner starts pleading, his voice shaking with fear and desperation but Zayran’s expression does not change. Without giving him another second, he cuts the call.

For him, a small lesson means destroying a person’s entire life.

“Thank you so much, sir” I say happily on the call, my voice full of excitement. As soon as the call ends, I stare at my phone for a second and then a wide smile spreads across my face.

“Kanha, I love you so much!” I shout joyfully, running around the room like a child.

I finally get a job.

“Mujhe makkhan ki tip do ab” Kanha says and I laugh before jumping onto the bed, lying down on my back with a bright smile.

(Then give me butter as a tip)

“Okay, de dungi. Aap bhi kya yaad rakhoge” I reply , smiling genuinely after two long days.

(Okay, I will give it. You will always remember it)

For the past few days, I keep searching for a job after I get to know that they kick me out. And now, finally, I get one. They are paying well and the working hours are also perfect for me. It feels like a small light in my dark world.

“Should I tell him about this?” I mumble slowly to myself, my smile fading a little as I look toward the couch.

He is more confusing than murgi pehle aayi ya anda.

(He is more confusing than what came first, the hen or the egg)

That night, when we came back, I told him to sleep on the bed because of his injured hand. But he was stubborn… stubborn and full of ego. He ignored me completely, as if my words meant nothing and quietly lay down on the couch instead. He did not even look at me once.

I was worried about his hand. But guess what? He worked like it was nothing serious. He moved normally, did everything without hesitation. No one could even say that he had an injury. He hid his pain so well… so perfectly.

“Aur wo bhi bata na Sita, sab ko” my subconscious whispers teasingly and I bite my lips slowly.

(Tell that also, Sita, tell everything)

“Batao, batao Sita. Mujhe dubara sunna hai wo” Kanha says playfully along with my subconscious and I sigh softly.

(Tell me, tell me Sita. I want to hear that again)

“I have a 0.01 percent crush on him… but just because of his looks and nothing else” I mumble quietly, turning to my side and staring at the ceiling. “Because aisa hai hi kya un me jo main pyaar me pad jaun, huh”

(What is there in him that I fall in love, huh)

“His actions and his respect are silent” my subconscious says again in a knowing tone. I roll my eyes dramatically, trying to ignore that voice.

“Kanha, I am coming” I say softly as I sit up on the bed. I should do pooja because I get the job.

I get up properly and walk out of the room. I need someone to bring sweets for me. My eyes move around, searching for someone. Just then, I see Grover walking out of his boss’s room.

“Grover” I call him sweetly. He immediately stops and turns toward me.

“Yes, ma’am?” he asks politely, standing straight.

“Can you please bring fresh sweets for me?” I ask gently. He nods his head immediately without asking any question.

“Thank you so much, you are so sweet” I say with a bright smile and hand him the money.

Baba gives it to me yesterday when I visit him.

“I also want you to do something” he says and I already know what he is going to ask. His fingers fidget together, and his eyes stay on the floor.

“Done. I will tell Tara to go on a dinner date with you” I say teasingly, crossing my arms with a playful smile.

He finally looks up from the ground and a real smile appears on his face. His eyes shine with happiness. He does smile… thank God.

“Ma’am, you are so smart. More smart than boss” he says and I flip my hair dramatically.

“By the way, everyone calls you GG. Are you really the second G?” I ask curiously.

His eyes widen instantly in shock and he quickly shakes his head in denial. I narrow my eyes and look at him with a suspicious gaze.

“To kiun apne boss ko itna makkhan lagate rahte ho, ha?” I ask, raising my eyebrow.

(Then why do you keep buttering your boss so much?)

He sighs slowly, his shoulders dropping slightly.

“Ma’am, I will tell you this when the right time comes” he says softly. I nod my head slowly, accepting his answer.

“Please come fast” I say gently and walk back inside my room.

I take a shower, letting the cold water calm my excited heart. After that, I wear a beautiful white dress with a blue dupatta. The soft fabric brushes against my skin gently.

I stand in front of the mirror and apply sindoor in my hairline carefully. A soft smile appears on my lips. For the past two days, I keep smiling whenever I apply sindoor.

I start combing my hair slowly and while combing, my eyes fall on the wall full of bangles.

“Should I wear bangles?” I whisper to myself, looking at the different colors and designs. Almost every type of bangles is there, shining behind the glass. I have not touched any of them until now.

I place the comb back and walk toward them slowly. I slide the glass door open and start touching them softly, a gentle smile playing on my lips.

I love wearing bangles.

I take out a matching pair for my outfit and slowly slide them into my wrists. The soft clinking sound fills the silent room.

They look so beautiful. I look at myself in the mirror one last time, admiring the sindoor, the bangles and the smile on my face.

Then I walk out of the closet. As soon as I step outside, I hear his deep voice from outside the room.

“Where is Grover?” he asks someone, his tone calm but firm.

“He goes out of the mansion a few minutes ago, boss” his guard replies from outside, I think.

“Grover mera kaam sunega ab, na ki us darinde ka because I am his madam” I mumble to myself proudly while walking toward the side table.

(Grover will listen to me now not that beast because I am his madam)

Just then, he knocks on the door and enters inside. I immediately close my eyes and take a deep breath.

“Saaf saaf bol, apne pati ki is ada par marti hai tu. Ye kya hai... ClOsE mY eYeS and take dEeP bReAtH” my subconscious taunts me loudly.

(Say it clearly, you are falling for your husband’s this action. What is this... Close my eyes and take a deep breath)

I am just about to hit my head on the wall in frustration. I slowly turn around.

For a second, I even forget to breathe. He is standing there like a statue. His eyes are fixed on me. His face is completely blank but the way he is looking at me… it makes my heart beat faster.

I hold my dupatta tightly in my fist, my fingers slightly trembling. What is happening to me, Kanha?

I lower my gaze, not able to look into his intense eyes. I nervously tuck a strand of hair behind my ear and my bangles make a soft clinking sound in the silent room.

Suddenly, he takes fast steps toward the balcony while taking out his cigarette.

“Nashedi kahi ka” I mumble under my breath, watching him.

(What an addict)

He stands in the balcony and lights the cigarette. The orange flame reflects on his sharp features for a second before disappearing.

He runs his hand through his long silky hair and pushes it back but it falls again over his white shirt.

His broad shoulders make everything look more powerful and commanding.

The way he stands there, smoking silently with the wind playing with his hair… it makes my heart feel restless again.

I come out of my thoughts when I hear a knock on the door. I quickly move toward it and open it.

“Here are your things, ma’am” Grover says respectfully, handing me the bag.

I look inside. There is a box of sweets and Tulsi leaves also. My face lights up instantly. I look up at him and smile widely.

“Thank you so much, Grover. And I will tell Tara to give you a bonus after your dinner date” I say teasingly. He looks down shyly, smiling softly.

I turn around...And he is standing inside the room, glaring at Grover.

“I told you to hand me that file” he says coldly, his eyes still fixed on Grover. Grover’s eyes widen in fear.

“I’m sorry, bo...” Grover starts speaking but I cut him in between.

“He goes out to bring this for me. Don’t shout at him. Aur agar Grover nahi, to kya aap la kar dete mithai mujhe?” I say in one breath.

(And if not Grover, would you bring sweets for me?)

He slowly turns his head and looks at me. I gulp hard, suddenly realizing what I just say.

I hear the click sound of the door closing as Grover quietly walks outside, leaving us alone.

My breathing becomes heavy as he takes a slow step toward me. I automatically step back. Our eyes do not leave each other’s. I keep stepping back until my back touches the door. There is nowhere left to go.

Is he going to cut my tongue into pieces?

He stops just two steps away from me. Then slowly, very slowly, he leans down to my level so that his eyes match mine.

I hold the bag tightly in my hands. My bangles make a soft clinking sound in the silence. And he gulps slowly.

“Aap keh kar to dekhti hume ek baar” he says softly, his voice low and calm.

(You should have asked me once)

My poor heart stumbles inside my chest. For a moment, I truly feel like I am going to die.

He steps back slowly, breaking the closeness between us and walks toward his table. He picks up the file from there like nothing happens, like he does not just turn my world upside down.

I blink slowly, still frozen in my place. Then immediately, I turn around and walk out of the room, my steps fast and uneven.

“Breathe, Sita, breathe” I whisper to myself, pressing my hand over my racing heart. I can feel it pounding violently against my chest. I do not know what is happening to me. I think I am going to die from a heart attack.

“Sita!” Tara says loudly as she runs toward me and jumps in front of me. Before I can even react, she hits my arm.

“Kal tune kaha tha tujhe terrace par mujh se baat karni hai, aur apni jagah unhe bhej diya” she says, pouting angrily and glaring at me.

(Yesterday you said you wanted to talk to me on the terrace and you sent him instead of yourself)

I grin mischievously, enjoying her reaction.

“Mujhe jald se jald maasi banna hai, to ye to karna hi hoga na” I say teasingly and bump my shoulder against hers playfully.

(I want to become an aunt as soon as possible, so I have to do this)

“Come with me for pooja” I say and grab her hand, dragging her toward the kitchen.

She helps me find the things and I carefully arrange everything in the thali. I place the diya, Tulsi leaves, sweets and other items properly. My fingers move gently and a peaceful smile appears on my face as I look at it.

“Let’s go” I say and we both walk out of the kitchen together.

“Please go with Grover tonight” I say to her gently. She immediately shakes her head hard, fear visible on her face.

“No, I will not. Because if someone sees me going out daily and meeting him, they will complain about me” she says nervously. I sigh slowly and hold her shoulder.

“Tara, tu dar mat. Main hoon na, main sab dekh lungi. Tu ja because he is really a gentleman and he just wants a few minutes with you, nothing else” I explain softly, trying to reassure her.

(Tara, don’t be scared. I am here, I will handle everything. You go)

She stays silent for a moment, thinking deeply. Then slowly, she nods her head.

“Love you” I say softly and kiss her head. She chuckles happily and pushes me lightly.

“Jaa kar sir ko bol ye” she says, giggling mischievously.

(Go and say that to sir)

I glare at her and she laughs louder. We both walk out into the garden. The morning sunlight falls gently on our faces, warming my skin. The flowers look fresh, the air feels calm and everything looks so beautiful today.

“Par sab se zyada beautiful to tera mard hai, Sita” my subconscious whispers teasingly.

(But the most beautiful is your man, Sita)

His face suddenly appears in front of my eyes. I quickly shake my head and walk toward the temple. My eyes shine with excitement and peace. I always want to enter inside it freely… and here I am.

I remove my footwear outside and step forward to enter the temple.

“Don’t you dare to enter inside the temple” his dadi says loudly from behind. Her sharp voice cuts through the peaceful air.

I stop. Slowly, I turn around and look at her with narrowed eyes.

“Why?” I ask in a flat, cold voice. She glares at me and walks toward me with anger visible on her face.

“You are impure. Your soul is impure. You are the daughter of a brothel woman. Your prayers will never get accepted because you are impure” she says harshly.

Her words hit me like a slap. I hold the thali tightly in my hands. My fingers press around its edges as my jaw tightens.

“Tum hoti kaun ho ye decide karne wali ki meri prayer accept hogi ya nahi?” I say coldly, my voice steady, without any respect left in my tone. Izzat gai tel lene.

(Who are you to decide whether my prayer will be accepted or not?)

“Battameez ladki!” she says angrily, taking a step toward me.

(Shameless girl!)

I glare back at her, my eyes burning with anger but I do not step back.

“Get out of here and never ever roam around the temple” she says harshly. I take a deep breath, trying to control the storm inside me. I do not want to talk to a brainless person like her.

I turn around slowly and look at Kanha inside the temple. My eyes soften instantly. I join my hands in front of him with love and devotion.

But before I can even stand there for a second longer, she closes the temple door forcefully. I stand there frozen. My hands slowly lower and my fingers tighten around the thali.

Prayer is never about expensive sweets or decoration.

It means how pure your heart is… how much you love your God.

It never matters what your background is, what clothes you are wearing or where you are living.

The only thing that matters in praying and connecting with God is how much you love Him and what your intentions are.

But some people can never understand what praying truly means.

I turn around quietly and start walking back inside the mansion.

“Sita” Tara calls softly. I look at her. She is staring at me with worried eyes, her face full of concern.

“Tara, ignore her. She is bina dimag ki chalti phirti buddhi, nothing else” I say calmly.

(Tara, ignore her. She is a brainless walking old woman, nothing else)

Tara laughs softly at my words, trying to lighten the mood. We both walk upstairs together, talking slowly.

But I am unaware…He hears everything. He sees everything.

It is 4 in the morning. The entire mansion is asleep. Darkness surrounds every corner, except one room. His office room. The light is on.

He sits on the floor, surrounded by many things. Clay, Tulsi leaves, water in a small bowl, tiny peacock feathers and a delicate golden pearl necklace lie around him carefully.

His laptop is open in front of him. Kanha’s picture is on the screen. The soft light from the laptop falls on his face, making his sharp features look even more intense.

He sits there silently, his eyes focused, his expression serious, as if he is preparing something important with his own hands.

He works calmly, making Kanha as carefully as he can. His fingers shape the clay slowly, pressing and adjusting every small detail. He tries again and again, making different parts, then remaking them when they do not look right. But there is no frustration on his face. No anger. Only focus.

He tries his best to make it perfect. His eyes move toward the laptop screen again and again. He looks at the picture carefully, then bends his head and shapes that same part with full concentration.

His rough hands, which are used to holding guns and signing deadly deals, now move softly and gently over the clay.

He colors each part exactly like it is shown in the picture. Blue for the skin, yellow for the dhoti, red and golden for the small details.

He waits patiently for the colors to dry, blowing lightly on them to help them settle.

Then he carefully sticks the tiny peacock feather on Kanha’s head. The same feather he himself buys from the market after searching the entire evening. His fingers adjust it properly so it does not fall.

He finally closes the laptop and instead of placing the idol on the floor, he places it respectfully on the laptop. His eyes stay fixed on the idol, as if he is checking every single detail one last time.

He cleans all the mess he creates around him, wiping the table and gathering the extra clay pieces.

Then he slowly gets up from the ground. His clothes have dried colors and bits of clay stuck to them but he does not notice anything right now. He sees nothing except the idol of Kanha.

He lifts the idol in his hands, holding it carefully. Then he places the laptop back in its place. With slow and careful steps, he walks out of the office room.

He walks inside his room quietly and closes the door gently behind him.

He takes careful steps toward the bed and gently places the idol on the side table. His movements are slow and quiet, making sure not to make any sound.

His eyes move toward her. She is sleeping peacefully, unaware of his presence. Her hair falls over her face, hiding her features. He stands there silently, just admiring her instead of staring.

His hand itches to move those strands away from her face… to see her clearly. But he does not. He stops himself.

He slowly walks toward the couch and lies down. His head rests against the cushion but his eyes remain on her face for a few more seconds, as if he wants to memorize her like this.

Then slowly, his eyes close.bAnd for the first time in a long time…He sleeps peacefully.

When he says he does not feel emotions, he is unaware of the truth himself. He is damn freaking right. Because he names his feelings for her as revenge… as hate… when in reality, it is clearly none of those things.

But it is not his fault.

A person who is not raised but survives… can never understand emotions deeply.

She shows him just a little… just a tiny bit of care. And in return, he does this for her. Then what will he do… when she starts loving him unconditionally?

He does not believe in God. But he makes Kanha’s idol for her with his own hands.

She chants Kanha’s name with love…

And he falls in love with the purity in her voice.

Kanha never makes two people partners by chance. Every union is part of His divine plan.

Sita’s eyes slowly open as the soft sun rays enter from the balcony and fall gently on her face. The warm light touches her skin, making her blink slowly.

She stretches her arms above her head, her body still heavy with sleep and sits up on the bed. Her eyes are still half closed.

She sits there for a moment in complete stillness. Then she slowly moves to get up and start her day. But suddenly…Her eyes stop.

They fall on the idol of Kanha kept on the side table. Her breath stops for a second. Without waiting even a moment, she quickly picks it up in her hands. Her fingers hold it carefully.

She admires it closely. A wide, pure smile spreads across her face.

“Who brought this?” she whispers softly to herself, her voice filled with confusion. Her eyes immediately move toward him. She freezes in her place.

He is sleeping peacefully on the couch.

“Did Tara buy it for me?” she asks herself again, trying to convince her own heart… trying to believe it is not him.

She looks at the idol closely once more. Her fingers trace over its surface. She can clearly see…This is not a purchased idol. This is made. Made with hands. Made with care. Made with purity.

“D… did he make this?” she whispers, her voice trembling.

Her breathing becomes uneven. Her heart starts beating faster, louder. Her eyes move toward him again. He is still sleeping, unaware of the storm inside her.

Then her eyes notice something else. The dry colors on his clothes. The tiny bits of clay stuck on the fabric. Nothing escapes her eyes.

Her legs start shaking badly. She slowly sits down on the bed, holding the idol tightly against her heart.

Tears start forming in her eyes. Her lips tremble as the truth settles deep inside her heart.

He makes it for her. With his own hands.

Her vision blurs. And finally…A tear falls from her eyes and lands directly on Kanha’s feet. Then another. And another. The tears fall one by one not stopping.

She does not even understand why she is crying. But her heart…Her heart is exploding with emotions she cannot name.

Every girl needs something like this in her life… someone like him… or him. But she is the one who gets him.

“Kanha” she whispers softly to herself, calling him silently. But Kanha just smiles. He does not reply. He lets her decide on her own… what she is feeling.

He stirs a little in his sleep. Her eyes widen slightly. She immediately gets up from the bed and carefully places the idol back in its place. Then she quickly walks inside the closet.

The moment she enters…She breaks. She cries badly, covering her mouth with her hand to stop her sobs from escaping.

“Stop him, Kanha… or I… I will not be able to stop myself. Make him do something for which I start h… hating him” she says brokenly as she drops to the floor with a thud. Her shoulders shake violently as she cries.

She is crying because she does not want to accept what she actually feels for him.

She stays there for a long moment, drowning in her own emotions.

Then slowly, she gets up from the floor and walks under the shower.

The cold water falls on her body, soaking her completely.

She closes her eyes tightly, trying to relax herself…

trying to suppress her emotions… trying to wash away the feelings growing inside her heart.

But nothing works.

She gets ready slowly, thousands of thoughts running wildly inside her mind.

After some time, she walks out of the closet. Her eyes are slightly red. Her face is calm but her heart is not. Her eyes fall on him.

He is sitting on the couch. His head is lowered. His eyes are fixed on the ground, avoiding her, as if he commits a crime.

She stares at him silently. “You made this?” she asks slowly, her voice soft but trembling, as she takes a step toward him.

He immediately gets up from the couch and starts walking toward the closet, trying to avoid her.

But she stops him. She stands right in front of him, blocking his way.

“Ham kuch puch rahe hai aapse” she says, looking directly into his eyes.

(I am asking you something)

He finally looks up. And the moment he does… It does not go unnoticed by him that she cries.

“ham kyun banayege?” he says with a blank face, his voice flat and emotionless.

(Why would I make it?)

She chuckles hearing this and slowly nods her head, as if agreeing with him.

“Sahi kaha… aap kyun banayenge? Aap kyun kisi ko goli marenge? Aap kyun mere liye aane wali bullet ko khud lenge? Aap kyun mere baba ko bachayenge? Aap kyun mujhe nuksaan nahi pahunchayenge? Aap kyun mere liye Kanha ki murti banayenge?” she says, her eyes filled with anger…

and something much deeper than anger. She is angry at herself.

And the other feeling… the one she refuses to name… is for him.

(You are right… why would you make it? Why would you shoot someone? Why would you take the bullet meant for me? Why would you save my father? Why would you not harm me? Why would you make Kanha for me?)

“Kyuuun kar rahe hai aap yeh sab?” she shouts after a few seconds of heavy silence.

(Why are you doing all this?)

She tries to control her tears, blinking rapidly, forcing them not to fall. He just stares at her silently, his face unreadable.

“Nafrat karte hai aapse ham. Mat kijiye yeh sab… warna aur zyada nafrat karne lage ge aapse!” she shouts at him, her voice breaking in between.

(I hate you. Don’t do all this… or I will hate you even more!)

He stands there, listening to her every single word without interrupting.

“Toh kariye” he says calmly. “hamne na aapko roka hai aur na hi kabhi rokenge. Aur rahi baat kuch karne ki… toh ham kisi ke liye kuch nahi karte. Bas khud ke liye karte hai”

(Then do it. I have neither stopped you nor will I ever stop you. And as for doing things… I do nothing for anyone. I only do things for myself)

After saying this, he walks inside the closet without looking back.

She chuckles again but this time her eyes are moist. Her smile is painful.

She slowly walks toward the idol and suddenly falls on her knees in front of it. Her hands tremble as she folds them.

“Kanha… mujhe yahan se door jana hai… jald se jald” she prays, closing her eyes tightly.

(Kanha… I want to go far away from here… as soon as possible)

She is unaware that Kanha is never going to accept this prayer. He is only going to play a beautiful game with these two liars.