There was silence again in the wedding hall, which had been bursting with noise only minutes before, with the sound of racing payal and steady footfalls, the crack of the gunshot ringing through the air, and the subsequent thump of the falling body hitting the marble floor. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

An odd stillness permeated the mandap as they all stared at the motionless body lying on the floor. They were all afraid to go towards it, afraid of what they would have to face. Akash was the first to step forward but he moved away from the body, towards the man responsible for felling it. Shyam stood there too, frozen, as he stared at what he had done, the gun forgotten in his limp hands. Akash walked towards the man he had once respectfully called Jeejaji, already dialing a number on his phone. A swift kick was enough to bring him down and Akash stood with his foot firmly planted on Shyam's chest, his eyes narrowed in an emotion far beyond hatred. He had chosen the easier job; now, it was up to the others to see to the far more trying task of assessing the damage Shyam had caused.

Khushi slowly walked forward, the train of her richly embroidered lehenga trailing behind her. She fell to her knees and reached out a shaking hand to carefully turn the man towards her. His eyes were closed, but a soft smile adorned his handsome face. At the touch of her gentle hand, his eyes snapped open, and she breathed out a sigh of relief.

"What's wrong, Khushiji? I'm fine, don't worry." The words were at complete odds to the dark pool of his own blood that he lay in.

"We have to get to the hospital. Someone help me!" she cried in desperation.

He grabbed her hand, halting her attempts midway. "There's no point. Let me be Khushiji."

"No!" she uttered an impassioned denial, her shoulders shaking with suppressed sobs. Another man joined her, folding her into his embrace in a futile gesture of comfort.

Arnav bowed his head, perhaps for the first time in his life, tears running down his once haughty face, the arrogance now stamped out of it. There were no words to express the tumult of emotions he was feeling and so he simply reached out to grasp his cousin's hand in his own, the cousin he had never appreciated or respected, the cousin who had just saved his life by giving up his own.

Khushi clasped NK's other hand with hers, and the three remained that way, kneeling in NK's blood, the wedding, the mandap, the guests, everything forgotten, connected by a bond that ran deeper than any other they had ever shared. They kept quiet, the actions speaking louder than any words they could have uttered until NK broke the silence, barely repressed humor evident in his tone.

"I think I see the angels coming for me Khushiji! What do you think Nannav, do they play cricket in Heaven?" He laughed then, and the others joined in the laughter, the tears of sorrow trickling down their faces giving way to tears of mirth. And that was how he left them, laughing until the end.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

"I always thought there were two kinds of people in the world Aarav... Those who went to their deaths screaming and those who went to their deaths in silence. But then I met the third kind."

He finally knew what the third kind was. He looked at the portrait adorning their mantle and tears pricked his own eyes as he gazed at the uncle he had never met, his laughing eyes, his infectious smile. He glanced back at his mother and was not surprised to see the tears which made her luminous hazel-green eyes glow even more.

"Nanheji saved us all that day Aarav. Me, your father, even you in a way. I can never hope to repay him. The only thing I can do is stay happy and live life the way he did. It's all I can do to honor his memory."

She slowly got up and made her way over to the portrait and Aarav joined her. Mother and son stood there in silence, she in grief and he in respect. Aarav could not feel the same sorrow as Khushi did, as he had never before met Nand Kishore Raizada. But he could admire and appreciate the man, for he understood the sacrifice NK had made. He would not be standing here today if not for the man in the portrait. He owed his life to him. They all did.

Neither Aarav nor Khushi turned around at the sound of rapid footsteps approaching them and they did not glance up at the touch of a warm hand on each of their shoulders. Arnav joined his family as they stood before the portrait and he lowered his head, as he always did before the man who had given him so much.

Thank you NK. Thank you for giving me the chance to have a family to call my own.

The three of them remained grouped that way for a long time, bowed before the portrait, eternally grateful, soft smiles adorning each of their faces as they honored the third kind.

*THIS IS ENTIRELY MY OWN WORK. PLEASE DO NOT COPY OR REPRODUCE.*

srujie2013-06-05 07:18:19