So, you know the
characters, although I never actually followed the show they are linked
with. I did see Iqbal in his other show, perhaps envisioning him in the
forces was easier then! ... it was for Jannat's
request, sorry i took forever... i even daresay it just struck me in a
whim, something this kind and i thought i'd do it for AK... obviously i
understand it is nothing usual to expect in the request you put, but i
hope you will enjoy it somehow!
If you come to believe the
scenario, all or part of it is preposterous, or if my claims on
anything to do with borders and defenses seems loud and impossible, it
may just be so... i was merely experimenting and did no research
greater than what i randomly knew... so no offending/hurting
intentions, harmless ignorance!
in general, i think AK were just
names! :) ps: i love the song by Call, it reminds me of the one dearest
to me, like no other... :)
ciao! ~ nj
Guns 'n' Roses
~ Chapter 3 ~
"I am not yours, not lost in you,
Not lost, although I long to be
Lost as a candle lit at noon,
Lost as a snowflake in the sea ... ... "
(~ Sarah Teasdale, I Am Not Yours)
When his eyes fluttered to open, a pain so intense shot through his
entire being, it overtook in a blinding impact and they fell shut
fiercely. A groan, infinitely small, timidly tried to gain expression, to no
avail. He gave in momentarily, and just let himself be. In a life which
was normal, like his had been not too many years ago, in a profession
that wasn't what his was now unlike any he had envisioned for himself,
also not too many years ago, Angad could in delirious temptation have
rather believed he was dead, or at the very least, dying. Perhaps the
latter he even was, but he there was no believing, till he knew...
perhaps, not even then...
The intensity of pain was a sign of life too great. Greater still was
the fact that he was thinking all of this, even if only in a feeble,
zoned out manner... Momentarily again, he took to being still, as much
mentally as physically. When the freezing numbness in his limbs
gradually began to make itself obvious, it all started to come back to
him, that even though they were only images in his head, it caused him
a strained exhaustion all over. But for an entire moment, it also, laid
to rest an immense worry.
Angad, from habit, almost chuckled, but the bodily ache it caused
contorted his face into quite another expression, and this time the
groan did escape him. Loud... dispelling the uninterrupted quiet surrounding him. Reminding himself to react only in his head -
for the while - he smiled mentally! He was alive, check. He could
remember it all distinctly, check. He could reason, and conclude,
check. It wasn't bad at all, yes, he grinned,
mentally...
No
sign of warning... the avalanche rolling down... the linked chain of
his men... unhooking themselves, hasty and shaken, nervous when he
screamed for them to be nimble and collected... but the enormity of the
shock... and the consequences it could bear so far... it all came back to him...
and then, his own words, the final ones he had yelled himself hoarse
with in instruction... he remembered, the last thing that he did, was
to unlatch himself... not in time to realize it was what had held him
to the ground beneath his feet... which slipped away... and... then...
It had all gone around him in circles... deepening... dizzying... dark... Not now!... Angad recalled his only thought in the instant of that involuntary plunge...
actually, impossibly, having grimaced for the first time in the face of
an untimely death... approaching all too soon... he had to be at the
border,God Damnit!!! ... for his father...
At
this thought, of all others, and not minus the excruciating effort, his
eyes shot open. The pain had subsided not one slightest bit, how could
it, in all but a matter of seconds. But he had to get up from here...
where ever this was. He begun to explore and observe his surroundings,
even before his eyes, taking the time to overcome the blurring, could
regain their ability to focus. It was a second time, and a second of
his immense worry, that was laid to rest, at having found himself in
what seemed to be a clearing of some kind. At least he was not in the
middle of endless wooden clumps, shed and barren in this month of December.
Additionally, the current hues coloring the sky seemed to indicate
greater light than dark; it could have been, he reckoned, not over say
an hour, two at max since his near encounter with death. Unless of course, that an entire day or so had passed him by unconsciously.
He ruled out this last option, on the mere premise that he was still
alive. In such temperatures, his current decaying condition, the
freshness of snow, still
falling
over the perennial layers of this region underneath, covering him no
less impartially... Perhaps then, he proceeded to think further, if
luck
continued to aid him in its faint fashion, he could stumble upon...
some road... ?
Once again, compelled by habit, he chuckled, and
this time, he didn't let the stabbing pang stop him from deriving the
pleasure of it. So much to be
almost dead. Here he was, not just fighting for the instinct of life, but fighting for the instinct to live it out! There is always so much you can do, till that last breath of life struggles to remain within ... the words of his real time war senior came back to him... He had been, much before Angad, his father's colleague.
It took him a while, too long in his opinion but not enough that he
could help it, before he could raise himself into some awkward position
where the pain was only enough that he wouldn't die of it, literally.
Such that he could enable himself to study, not just all around him but
his own body. And the wounds it bore. Whatever his lower back rest
against was jutting into it and doing no good, his only hope lay in
that it would do no permanent damage. The exposed aperture of his eyes
felt much too small, from swelling he figured, but it would have to do
for now. Very slowly, so tenderly that it was hard to even perceive, he
felt the fingers of his hand over various sections of himself, skin
from under the threadbare gloves coming in contact with skin, in
places, bared by shabbily torn clothing, at the cost of extreme agony.
At one point his yelp of pain reverberated through the surroundings in
such resonant echoes, the insufferable sadist inside him was triggered
to humor the possibility of how long it would be before someone from
his border area heard him and came for help. Then the disciplined
Captain took over again, and reproached him to postpone the frolicking,
for until... later.
It could have been an hour, a lenient estimate, when he had finally
gotten up, trusting most of his weight upon the sturdy long log that he
heavily leaned onto. Ginger on his feet, especially the left which was
now firmly tied to a flattened wood board of sort against his lower leg
with what had essentially been a sleeve of his uniform jersey and was
extracted using a sole blade that had somehow clung steadfast to the
lining of his boot, Angad nearly lost balance to crumble into the heap
he had raised himself from. Before the log stuck a foot hold on behalf
of the actual limb and saved him. He heaved in a rush of adrenaline and
relief, dreading to think of, if, he had fallen again... wanting to
congratulate himself for having accomplished a feat already, which was
nothing ordinary, but the wasted muscles were a constant dampner... as
was the gravity of his situation. Try as he might, they could, neither,
be ignored. A further ripped length of fabric from his shirt was
securely tied over the lower abdomen for some sanctity of holding
tight, where he detected only deep, and numerous, internal injuries,
and that seemed fortunate, considering he couldn't feel any fractured
ribs. Fortuitous still, was the fact, even miraculous, that his head
seemed to be majorly intact. Liberal and extended icing of both
visible, as well as unmistakable inside wounds using the abundant
snow around
had subsided swelling in certain parts, clotted blood over other
wounds, and numbed sensation in yet other parts that could serve him
best by being rested for now. His eyes had conspicuously widened, he
believed, and that was a sure help, as the dark was unalteringly
descending upon him all around. The sole upper garment that could still
significantly cover him, his outer jacket, was thrown upon his
otherwise bare torso. And thanking whatever precautionary thought had
made him, when departing the camp, pull over his military pants and
shoes an extra layer of over sized sports track pants, which was all
that presently covered his lower limbs, Angad assured himself he had
done commendably.
And having dealt the best he could with his
unkindly battered self hence, he was now faced with a bigger task. Of
determining his next course of action. Which in immediate measure
required for him to decide if it was left or right that he would walk
on this path. He was clueless with regard to the precision of his
location, and the heavily clouded sky (the
snow laiden
clouds) revealed no celestial aides. Unless he was in serious error,
however, it did seem like he was standing on something of a
occasionally traversed hill track, the kind that could be expected to
merge into roads at some point. But which side would that happen, and
faster? Which side could his men be, those who had survived, and how
many. And which side would the border lines be? ... Angad sighed in
frustration, then pursed his lips and forced his racing thoughts to
halt before they could dwell in greater perils. It could, and would, do
him no good to think of the magnanimity of his troubles right now. He
could, and would, do better by thinking of what was disposable at hand.
Which was this hill track... and a recollected integrity within his
mind.
When he placed a first foot forward tenderly, it seemed
to mock him into realizing how standing up had been only a baby step so
to say. The pain was retarding enough, he did not waste time on
debating anymore, and walked to his right. It was a healthy word,
right,
he had to strive for it, more than ever before, now... And arbitrary
though this idea was to rely upon for a decision so critical, there was
no better reasoning he could muster in this case of equal and opposite
probabilities.
The effort of
trudging along ill catering trails, sometimes none, of heaving the mass
of his over wrought physique, was a task too laborious. Every now and
then, despite all will, he had to
take breathers, before he could resume. And there were far too many
moments he just wanted to give up, this never ending and seemingly
futile trek he had dedicated himself to. But on he had dragged himself,
knowing the destination he only wished to
be headed towards, and how long he knew not about. For keeping track of
time, even roughly, was yet another task, and there were one too many,
too demanding, of primary concern, for him to weigh the secondary ones
yet.
It was then, at another such moment of dissipating hope,
that he thought he saw a speck in a distance. In under a minute, he was
certain it was no fascinated play up of his mind, cause it seemed to
have closed in on him somewhat, become bigger than just a speck hence,
and though its advent seemed frustratingly slow, he was aware of how
much worse he was doing himself. And decided therefore, to take the
chance and wait upon it to approach him more.
Closer and closer it came, much to his relief, and then closer still,
as he began to notice the distinction of shape and color relief in part
turned to something of a comic element. It must have been a drugged
level of relief, for Angad was certain he wanted to laugh. Out loud. He
would have too, if physically it would not have been something as hard
as stretching all those facial muscles which hurt too bad, and bracing
himself to brave the tremors (of agony) it would cause all over... and
he was anything but ready to writhe and flinch anymore that he
absolutely had to, which was less by no means.
But seriously, a
lilac Baby Austin?!
Deep down his throat stifled in partial success a definite chortle from
surfacing. He was beginning to think he might just be hallucinating,
after all. Alas! It persisted in his vision, to close in on the
distance, and when he thought he could see a vague outline of a driver,
he gathered all his might and gestured, with the best of a raised arm
that he could, in beckoning.
When the ancient wonder came
around to face him, literally a couple meters away, such that he was
now able to tell the maroon of whatever its driver was wearing, it just
stood there, still running. The head lights, name sake, were so dim,
leave alone blinding him, they might as well have been missed in the
nightly glow of the abounding snow itself. But the effort of standing
there came back to remind him of his purpose to hail it. And he
thought, almost gruffly, why no better sense could prevail upon this
person behind the wheel, than to sit idling there when lending a
helping hand would so much better an idea. Some streak of logic
suggested it could be the preposterous nature of his appearance in this
way, a reason as to why, humanity had taken a reluctant back seat when
overshadowed by distrust. And giving his prospective savior-stranger a
benefit of doubt, just as he decided to walk those remaining few feet
to the car himself, its door opened. And out came... Angad frowned...
his eyes attempted to widen, but narrowing was so much less to do...
neither, in the end, altering facts. It really was...
a girl?!
So taken was he by how bizarre the sight was, first the car, now
coupled by the appearance of this driver, that he stared, oblivious to
all that the lack of restrain in his unwavering gaze could be
misconstrued for. The features of her face so innocently delicate, and
soft, as they underwent series of expressions that were all quickly
heading for a rather ashen, final drawn blank expression, only
astounded him more. Could this... was
she for real? How... why?
And then she raised her eyes to his. Angad thought, and it could well
have been a result of his greatly weathered condition, that some inside
him shifted focus. So intently was he noticing her, that the bare
tremor of her lips did not escape him either, a set of two lips as
perfectly curved and demurely painted as any he could have ever seen;
and that was what snapped him out of the reverie. Almost instantly, and
inexplicably, he felt a surge of agitation rise within.
Was she out of her mind? Extremely vague though it was, his sensed a protective instinct kick in next... Did she have no damn idea how insanely dangerous any of this was... Needless to expect then, that it would have occurred to him what a God sent angel she was proving to be.
And perhaps, to remind him of its generosity, chance, as would have it,
had her turn her back upon him, abruptly, that same second.
"Wait!" He blurted. And it halted her in her step for a second that
seemed too long to be only one. He really must have been noticing,
cause even the stiffening of her shoulder blades from behind, at the
sound of his call, was not missed upon him. His voice had not been loud
at all, in all honestly he found the sound of it was almost alien to
him, it was a raspy note in the violent sounds of the gale, louder only
than the sound of falling
soft flaky whites
that either settled over countless more like itself amassed or melted
upon contact with the bodies; but she seemed to have heard it anyways.
The effect apparently was either too short lived, or quite the contrary
of what he had hoped for, cause he saw her extend her hand to the
driver's door next. "I need help... " he persisted, forcing all his
reserves, which weren't remarkable to begin with, so it could sound
more like his usual convincing baritone, and in a desperate measure he
uttered what he rarely did, "Please... " completely meaning it.
Kripa fought the most impossible mental debate in her head with the
passing of the next five seconds or so. There was no trace of logic, to
support what felt intuitively... acceptable... ? - about this stranger,
the sound of his voice...
perhaps just the presence of a fellow human when she had felt so daunted by overbearing nature all around... made
her want to believe him. Despite the strangest of appearance (where
strange could be safely interpreted as 'unsafe') she would have
imagined. So much, she couldn't understand what it was if not all that
met her eye that would suffice as reason enough so she would heed to
nothing else and flee the spot while she could, if she wanted to reach
back in person no changed from how she had left home some hours before.
This foreboding, in some way, was not
entirely a false alarm... something was about to change for her... on
this life altering new year's eve...
And she paved way for the very same, when she turned back around to face him.
It
isn't a lie, what they say, that we are the ultimate masters of our
fates... the final instrument to implement 'fate' is our discretion,
and that alone...
It might have
been her need to justify this recklessness, but she thought she could
discern a softening in his expression, whatever of it was evident on
his rather... unkindly damaged face... In fact, thought Kripa, she
could almost trace what was likely to have been the advent of a smile.
Internally, she sighed. On the outside, she kept a straight face, and
gave the lightest of nods.
Angad was not the one to miss cues.
"I need a ride," he explained coming straight to the point, "To the
closest army base." Before she could agree, or disagree, he thought of
something else too. "How far from the border are we?" Because she did
not speak promptly, or well, he corrected himself, because she was yet
to have spoken a single word out loud, Angad raised his eyes to
emphasize his queries. And if she had thought her face to appear
inscrutable, she couldn't have been further from the truth. He read the
apprehension, and doubt plainly, and wondered.
Did she know how transparent they were, those golden brown eyes of hers?
"I'm a captain in the army," he informed her, then added hastily, "The Indian army."
Kripa didn't plan to, but she did not think before it happened. Her
eyes, of their own accord scrutinized his appearance one more time -
the shabby navy blue tracks, the shabbier still blue-black jacket,
scraped at places to reveal skin... yes, bare tanned skin... which was
also revealed aplenty in the form of his broad chest, which helped none
to undo knots in the pit of her stomach. It was heavily scarred, and
unrecognizable almost though, now that he had made a mention, she saw
the military print of what was carefully bandaged around it, waist and
under. This sight, unexpectedly, made her think it was redundant. She
would have and had taken him for his word. And she did not know this
personal revelation ought to serve a scare or a reassurance. The
chiseled makings of his physique, the strength of a toned wall in that
chest only seemed to be further pronounced by the marks of his
wounds... it amazed some corner of her mind, the fleeting thought of
how she had never yet witnessed a warrior so brazen... so carnal a
form... so raw without caring... despite the high probability that the
geographic location of her home offered.
Her eyes, as unassumingly as they had surveyed him, went back to his
face and met his, and only then did she become conscious of herself,
and him. Extremely, furiously conscious, for it was not a mere hint or
trace this time, but a distinct form even if subtle, that tiny amused
smile. Tiny, but ample to embarrass her, even mock.
Why, she
thought getting fervently angry, her cheeks flushed to compete with the
color of her rich maroon overcoat, and her eyes flared when she looked
back at him, here she was his only hope of any help, and he dare... he dare make fun of her?
Angad who had, with a patience he had known himself not to possess,
stood awaiting her appraisal of his physical appearance, which he
thought in mild exasperation was nothing of its usual impressive self
today (of all days), had not intended to offend her at all. It had been
so spontaneous, his amusement at her naive act of inspection, naive
because one more acquainted to such situations would have covered their
tracks better, as she clearly had not. But the fire of reproach in her
eyes was so challenging, that when she had been caught! What was this
girl, he mused with more interest than was usual to him, that even
unfair indignity on her part seemed so... harmlessly... endearing... ?
He wondered further, if the inside damage of his systems was more than he had assessed so far...
"Hurry up, I don't have all night." she announced curtly, turning upon
her heel to open her door. And with that, she had at last spoken her
first words to him. He must have totally lost it, to think so, but he
believed he would remember them forever... and smiled, a painful
blunder physically, but he truly did. When she shut the door upon
herself, it jolted him out of his meandering thoughts, again. He took a
step, and winced, a low moan escaped him, and as reflexively as he had
had clenched his fingers agonized, did they uncurl, unable to take the
force of his fist. It was, a rude awakening from all that the past few
minutes had made him,
more nearly, forget... as he sought to keep his balance steady enough.
Kripa was about to turn the key in ignition when out of an urge that
beat her resolve before it could counter tackle, she looked at him,
still outside. And they were instantaneous, her actions in reaction, as
she threw open her door and rushed out. Nearly slipping herself over
the freshly laid
snow in the final steps towards him.
So that when her hand clasped his wrist, and the other arm fell behind
to circle his back at waist which was a little too broad for her to get
a complete grip, it was as much in regaining her own balance, as it was
to help him keep his.
And he howled in such anguish, that it
had her startled. The grip of both her hands let go just as
thoughtlessly as they had initially held him and he was sure to have
had a fall if she had,
yet again,
not held him as she did... only more gently this time. It did not alter
how terrified she was at the harm he may have suffered at the expense
of her callousness and in the horror of it all she realized nothing
else, no matter how obvious. The proximity they shared, the rapid
heaving of her chest as breaths came short... the warmth of his
shallow, sparse gasping over her neck, the hold of his big hand onto
her small, dainty one, in a clasp that may have been only weak for him
but it was for her, a first like so much else about him.
Angad
was slightly bent, reeling from the pain that had shot through the
extremities of his every end at the jerk her sudden hold had caused
him, the fractured limbs felt jittery more than ever, and the insides
doubled unavoidably. And even in this devastated, and unusually
vulnerable state, he stood towering over her petite figure, her head,
with the entire height could only barely have brushed against his chin,
but it turned out to be his cheek as she stood upright and he did not.
When the pain slowly receded, he begun to sense other factors - the
softness of her fresh and fragrant tresses against his sprouting light
stubble; the clasp of his hand assuredly over her genteel one, when
officially she was the one supporting him; the femininity of her bosom
that he perceived distinctly in its rhythm against the positively
exposed solid of his chest.
But beyond this all, he saw etched on her face, an extremely beautiful
face at that, every line that could possibly exist cast in concern...
worry... even guilt... Angad was certain if she raised her eyes now, he
would see it all reflected in them, crystal clear... for himself. And
in all the urgency of his situation, the one thought that dominated his
mind that instant was see her raise them, to meet his, up so close...
"Relax." He spoke hoarsely, in a single word, assuaging her anxiety,
urging her resolve, tempting her dignity... All he wished for in it,
was simply that she would look up at him, and she did, and it was all
of what he had expected, and more. There was no explaining any of his
actions, reactions, or thoughts, but fact was, her eyes had arrested
him so completely this time, it left no scope to even entertain reason.
"I'm so sorry, I didn't... " she ushered in a whisper, and as she
swallowed hard awaiting his reply, he forced his eyes away from
noticing the inciting throbbing pulse of the nerve that ran long along
her slender nape. They were much too close for comfort, but was he the
only one affected? It must be... it had to be the occupational
disadvantage of being in the forces. He was almost twenty six, and the
long stretches of compulsive abstinence were beginning to feel like
self claimed celibacy...
Oh how horrific a thought!
If Angad had not looked away that second, his question would have been
answered without searching much further. For it was only in his abrupt
withdrawal from the gaze they shared that Kripa realized the
awkwardness of their position. She pulled away instantly, tucking at a
strand that was not really lose, almost harshly and mentally she kicked
herself. Only unlike him, for the lady she had been groomed to be, she
shied away from any ideas of how the closeness had affected her,
or could.
"I'm sorry," she said again, this time turning around with those words
to walk to the car without having to face him right away. "I'll bring
the car right up," she added, so he would know, she was not walking
away from helping him. Not that she had to, Angad thought to himself,
understanding her mix of emotions, for his own had been, he believed,
stirred a tad more. A part of his conscious mind had not forgotten the
big picture, and at this chance of his few moments alone, it promptly
reminded him of his unfulfilled duties at the border.
He must, he told himself, reach at the very earliest... But
the strange experience of this encounter was not something he could get
himself to put aside. That when he was still in it. Oh what a day this
was turning out to be, and it was, he reminded himself another time,
the eve of 31st. What a way then, he smiled curiously in his head, to embark upon a new year...
He seemed to be in thought when she pulled the car up next to him, and
not catching his attention with her mere presence, Kripa honked,
lightly, which was a loud sound in the stillness that enveloped. When
he was getting himself into the passenger seat, she knew he would never
manage, or never within an entire lifetime and she got out to help him,
which was a good idea. For this time, she did not in her panic harm him
more than save. When he was settled in the seat the leg space it seemed
apparent to her was far too cramped for him, but there was not much to
do about it. Instead, she reached over and fixed the seat belt for him,
then, almost exhausted from the little exercise in supporting a man so
much larger than her, she exhaled loudly, hands on her hips before the
sign of a grin on his face made her return to hasty poise.
"Erm... " she uttered, lightly scratching her forehead, "Are you okay?"
He blinked his eyes in confirmation, the most painless way of
communicating for now and she shut the door on his side, rather
cautiously, before skipping back to her own. Moments later they were on
their way. Still more moments later, they had been riding in silence.
Which was more distracting than one would think, Kripa imagined to
herself. For as she struggled with the car, the road, the dark and the
worsening weather, his presence in the tiny space made her somewhat
claustrophobic. But she told herself repeatedly to concentrate on the
drive, and that alone. Although, every now and then, she stole glances
from the corner of her eye, only to find him absorbed in thoughts of
his own. Gradually, she begun to feel more at ease, and unknowingly,
after a while she had taken to hum intermittently... the same tune,
that had lingered from her afternoon at the studio.
Having been relieved of the unbearable endurance he had suffered some
long hours, Angad's attention was inevitably taken up by what lay ahead
of him. He wondered again how many of his men had survived and how many
had, by some luck, reached the camp back... he hoped at least someone
had, so the forces at the frontier knew of what had transpired on the
highway in their absence. If they had sustained all but 72 hours,
waiting every minute in the last 12 or so for the replacements to
arrive, he didn't think the others would necessarily do too much
better. And it would come to them as no pleasant surprise that an
entire half segment that was meant to join them only few hours after
they had been stationed to positions, may now in the all possibility
either not make it at all, or make it in insignificant numbers.
At this point the car jolted over a bump of kind and Angad seethed audibly at the revolting pain.
"I... I'm... " he raised a shaky hand to her but the gesture held
conviction and she did not complete the apology at the tip of her
tongue. "Are you okay?" she asked instead, and once again he blinked in
affirmation, after he finally looked up. On a sudden thought Kripa
pulled over. Then turned around and rummaged through the contents,
rather scattered, on the entire back seat. He looked at her, but weak
from the labor in recovering, posed no questions. When she finally
turned around to face him, however, the bottle in her hands did
automatically cause not one but both his eyes to go up in curiosity.
There wasn't a particular question to ask about the contents, for the
label specified clearly enough 'Cherry Brandy'. But why she had
something in stock... particularly in a
car... he mulled over his right to ask her. Evidently however, the question was an obvious one for she answered it herself.
"Naanu always has one in each of the cars... for bad weather days, land
slides... avalanches... " She shrugged her shoulders at that, and he
was glad for her to not have continued. With the instance that had
nearly killed him, so fresh in his mind, avalanches were not welcome to
form a part of his casual discussions for a while. As for the brandy,
Angad wondered if this girl, and her resources, weird or whatever, were
god's way of making up for all the mishaps his single day had seen...
As he made to take it from her she held it back with unexplained
hesitance, and on his questioning prompt she asked, in a voice that was
clearly flustered, "I... erm... you... " she looked away, avoiding his
eye, then said quickly in a rush, "You can handle your drinks can you
not?" A rush of color flooded her white cheeks with a charming rosy
pink and Angad really thought he would pull her to himself, and close,
if but for a moment. Then the bottle in her hand and her question
together made sense, and he knew cuddling her would be the worst idea
ever. Distantly he marveled, in turn, both at himself for such
thoughts, and at her for what she was driving his mind to...
did she realize?
No! It was just this entire being so not himself... there was nothing
more, nothing less. Without warning he grabbed the bottle out of her
hand, before she could resist this time. And when she looked at him, he
knew it was in expectation of an answer. He could have replied simply,
but she was twisting so much in his system, unintentionally or not
didn't seem to matter, somehow, he didn't find the need to go easy.
Unscrewing the cap then, without looking at her he took one complete
large sip. It burned the depth of his throat instantly, not a sensation
he was new to, but today he hoped it would do more than just elevating
him to a happy, suspended state.
To her, he said casually,
"Lets see how that works out," before putting it to his lips again, and
taking in a gulp larger than the first, almost double in volume. He
lowered and found her looking at him with an expression that was
indeterminate about what it wanted to be. Angad chuckled, then clicked
his tongue, and said, "Stop fretting! I'm an army man for heaven's
sake!" In a tone so patronizing that she faced away from him at the
words, and decided this man was extremely hard to predict. Kripa just
hoped she had not gotten herself into any trouble with the entire kind
deed. Cause she knew, it was now too late to undo her impulse anyways -
of letting a ragged stranger into the car... of offering him brandy to
alleviate his pain from wounds that were too many and too gruesome and
she still had no idea what had gotten him into this condition. Really,
now that she thought of facts as just independent facts, they seemed
the craziest most absurd whims to have fallen for. But... she couldn't
deny how the perspective was quite another when the stranger in
question was...
If only her
intuition about him, would not fail her. From the side of her eye, she
caught him sitting quietly, a lose fist resting under his chin. The
casual appearance of him was deceived, only by the look on his face, as
his eyes stared without blinking at some point mid air, his focus on it
seemed so intense Kripa thought the captain seated by her side may as
well have simulated a battle field in the spaces of his mind alone...
And the drive continued as before. Not long after, as the silence
prevailed, the cycle from before repeated itself, the only exception
lay in those few times she caught him tip the brandy bottle to his
mouth before screwing it back each time. To her keen eye, there seemed
to be nothing misplaced in his demeanor that would indicate trouble
post alcohol consumption, and it left her in some ambiguous sense of
awe, for a third of the sealed new brandy she had handed him, was gone.
An army man, her mind repeated what he had put up in his defense to rid
her of doubts regarding his resistance, and at last she forced herself
to stop being a prude. It was all going to be fine, he was a captain,
and she was helping a respectable man from the forces, cause he was in
real need. That simple! Soon after, as the drive continued to be by far
uneventful, Kripa found herself humming the tune again.
Only this time, it caught Angad's attention. And once it did, he could hardly disregard this web of concurrencies.
When she was certain he had been looking at her for more than a few
coincidental seconds, Kripa abruptly stopped humming, and turned to him
with a raised eye. But he said nothing and she returned her focus to
the road. It did not end here, because several tens of seconds had
ticked away and she could still feel his eyes upon herself. After
pondering over her options mentally she turned to him with an intention
to confront, a brow cocked again. He just smiled, and it annoyed her
that he was neither getting her point, nor making one of his own. If
there was one thing that Kripa Aziz Sharma did not deal well with at
all, it was being denied explanation when she expected otherwise.
Warily her eyes traveled to the bottle in his hands, it was close to a
half already. Not certain this was heading to any particularly
favorable sequence of events, she looked back at him. Weirdly enough,
even as she was working herself up into a mire of odd nothings, he, the
one who was physically incapacitated to a huge extent, seemingly
preoccupied, and realistically not sober, seemed to command easy
control.
"Is there something you need?" she asked him, tentatively. Angad
clicked his tongue in denial. And she sighed impatiently. This time she
looked at him, not the most patient way.
"Well what is it then?" Before he could answer however, Kripa, having
been slightly distracted, had missed an uneven little patch of the dirt
road, upon which the antique little thing now jumped slightly. She knew
it sooner, not from feeling the jolt herself, but from the appearance
of sudden countless tortured lines criss crossing his face as he
wrinkled his eyes shut tightly, and a deep throat groan escaped him.
Instantly Kripa turned off the ignition and turned her attention to him.
"Oh no!" she mumbled to herself soundlessly, and extended her hands
towards him, but they remained mid air, unable to determine what use
they could put themselves to. It did not last forever. Angad who was
beginning to wonder what life had been like a few hours ago when the
slightest of tugs didn't cause such unbearable tumults inside him, was
practicing increased tolerance with each such unexpected jerk. Plus,
draining all that brandy was finally bringing him some relief. He could
sense, even as the wounds every one of them he was as much aware of as
before, that the stabs of pain had become, just about bearable. When he
looked up, he found, as he had had unknowingly expected, his savior
girl staring at him bleakly, as he tended to himself and re-settled in
the best position he could. When he had stopped showing both signs of
activity and pain, she asked him the same thing she had, so many time
already.
"Are you okay? "
"No!" He told her with a finality, "No, I'm not okay." She looked
visibly abashed at his words and Angad got distracted from what he was
going to say. Instead, at the forlorn look of her face, he found
himself impossibly amused, so much that he broke into a light laugh.
Which was such a horrible idea seconds after he had just sustained the
car's jump. It had to be the alcohol working inside, he knew he was no
where nearing a drunken state, but the rapid consumption had definitely
loosened his nerves. And annoyingly, he
still flinched
and winced and ground his teeth as the pain was stubbornly lingering.
Kripa tried in a rather defeated tone, "Are you... "
"NO!" he
cut her off, with a volume higher than before, certain it was the
brandy talking. With the certainty of this cause obvious to him Angad
paused to breathe in deeply, and went on before she could avert his
eyes, "I have a name, and much to your disappointment, it is NOT
'okay'." He had caught her off guard so completely, that it was almost
too delayed when she realized what he had meant, and then as she
frowned at him, most outrageously as she thought, she was certain he
had as much as winked at her. Her mouth hung slightly open but was shut
by his next words, "Its Khanna," he told her and she grudged him his
cheeky tone in the condition he was, "Angad Khanna." he completed
sweetly. In that one single sentence he had flipped his emotional state
too rapidly, too many times, for her to make sense. And then, just
before she turned to the car, he gave her a smile. Not sweet, nor
sarcastic... just a simple smile, which, it appeared, must be
characteristic of him. Once again, it put to rest all her edging doubts
inside, but outwardly Kripa avoided reacting with a response and
restarted her car.
"Ahem" Angad cleared his throat after some peaceful seconds had
prevailed, hoping to start afresh, but when she looked strictly ahead,
he leaned back into his seat, in the least discomfort he could manage
and just looked her, knowingly. Then gave it another shot, "So that
tune you were humming earlier.... " No reply. Angad shook his head ever
so slightly with a mild grin. "Have I offended you?"
"You don't seem to care much if you did." she pointed out flatly.
"I see I have," he concluded, and neither of them had looked at each other much.
This, she
recognized now, was the weirdest thing of all between this stranger
Khanna and herself. It was not everyday that she went around being the
real Kripa, which was to imply being unaffectedly candid, with
strangers of one time. And strangers who were potentially tipsy at the
very least... She didn't know if calling this guts was crazy, or
justifying it as faith slash intuition was crazier. Angad observed the
silent play of expressions on her face. When he saw her take a deep
breath before nibbling onto her lower lip as she drove past a rather
precarious point where a rock from the mountain side was jutting out
too far, he had to agree he was underestimating her too much.
On a thought he
quipped, "You have a nice car!" and sure enough, it gained him what
much else had failed to, an unwarranted look of complete attention,
even if momentary, even if skeptical, even if, finally, outrightly
indignant. Kripa narrowed her eyes at him before hurriedly returning to
the road of endless perils. When she spoke, he knew she was intending
for the words to project her displeasure.
"You couldn't be
trying to mock my car." The threat in her words was apparent, and Angad
wondered why he was being such an insolent jerk and driving fun out of
teasing her. It was not guilt enough to remedy him for then.
"You didn't happen to think I could?"
"Surely you're not already so drunk as to forget who's car it is that
you're so comfortably lodged in." Angad nearly laughed at this, but
only nearly. Not from the fear of irking her more, but from how arduous
laughing was for him. Instead he said, the immense tease in his tone
studied and intentional, the brandy he believed was slowly coming along
full swing,
"Oh yes I do! Between you and me, and there seems to be no third to
disturb, there is only a single possibility of who would ever care to
own a
lilac Baby Austin."
"Maybe I should throw you out of my car now." she said, and so
seriously, that he couldn't help laughing, even for the pain. Only a
second later he moaned, as expected, but his lips were still partly
twisted into a grin.
Such irony,
he thought, and gave himself a mental pat when she did not ask him if
he was 'okay' this time. She did not, however, chose to remain quiet.
"Pray Captain, but I sure was wondering how you managed to look so beautiful?"
Ouch, he took her jab, as she shot him a wide bambi eyed soulful look, before turning to the road.
"
Captain?"
he observed, there wasn't a slur in his words, yet, but they were, he
could sense, beginning to roll more than needed, off his tongue;
presently he made a point of emphasizing the tease in his question, "I
see someone has been listening, and retaining my talks." There you go now, he delivered, since you insisted!
When he was satisfied with sufficient rolling of her eyes at his jest,
in the most unconsciously adorable way he'd think of, he continued,
"And my beauty, I
assure you, is not as effortlessly attained as it seems to have been
the case for other people in this car... " It took her by surprise,
greatly, so her facial alteration betrayed. Recovering almost too
quickly for his expectation however, she said
"Are you
always this affronting?"
"Here I was thinking I had managed a rather smartly concealed
compliment... " She blushed to the roots of her hair, cause now, he
truly had been affronting, and it made him laugh. Or maybe the brandy
did. In turn it made him writhe and struggle to survive another bout of
what refused to be ignored even if it had undeniably subsided, and in
no particular context yet from his obvious and only underlying concern,
even with a slight dizziness swamping his senses, the battle field
flashed before the shut eyes. Temporarily, it knocked him straight in
the head and Angad couldn't believe himself to be indulging in such
light hearted banter when he was missing in action where he was most
needed. Involuntarily he sighed, agitated, helpless, desperate.
"Captain Khanna...?" he heard her concern, as from before. That she had
addressed him by name instead, even if most formally, to quite an
extent was so much more personable. He kept the smile limited to within
his head, and looking back her, decided impromptu that he would push
things just a little further with her, and watch.
"Angad." he told her, quietly. Firmly.
And even if she had proved more than once already how slow she was in
interaction with strangers, she did understand the implication of this
particular remark. Its double implication in fact - in pressing
familiarity, and in seeking, she reveal her name to reciprocate. Kripa
nodded, with what she hoped was neither too much, nor too little
acknowledgment, without looking at him directly. Angad understood the
predicament of her persisting reserve, but it still disappointed him at
least a tad, that he had been unsuccessful, so long, at winning the
trust of this fair maiden who seemed to be more than just an intrigue.
Once more, there ensued a silence between the passengers.
Kripa concentrated on the drive. It was strange, very strange indeed,
that her fidgety lack of confidence from before when she was driving
alone had been replaced by a responsibility induced confidence. It had
managed to soothe her nerves such that she was no longer thinking of
how or if she would make it back home, safely. She tried to pretend
believing it was her own doing, that she overcome her earlier
unnecessary nerves, but the thought of the last section of the drive,
after she would have dropped the captain to his destination was not as
ready a thought as she would wish for it to be. She tried then to not
think about that, for now.
Angad ran through his mind the events of the past few days, especially
the past few hours. He wondered if it had been the distraction this
girl had provided, or the brandy, or both, that his pain, for a while
had been quite bearable. As of this silent moment, it seemed to him,
that he could not concentrate on any thought for an entire minute
without being revolted with agony in some part. He wished desperately
he could inject himself with liberal amounts of morphine till he would
truly be in complete bliss, devoid of any traces of the pain... he
wished and tried hard to pretend that the pain wasn't there but the
farce held for a few seconds at a time, he doubted he had crossed an
entire minute so, yet. And inevitably, he found himself questioning
again, what stroke of ill fate has destined for him and his men to
suffer this disaster... before they could be of real avail to the
country. One bloody avalanche... and...
"I can look handsome when I haven't fallen some few hundreds of feet...
" he said in a wry tone taking her briefly by surprise at having broken
the silence without so much as a warning, and a choice of topic oddly
revealing. Several quiet moments had passed between them, not
uncomfortably, but he wanted to get back to making conversation. There
was an easy sustenance and relief from immediate pressing issues at
hand that he could do nothing about, if they kept talking. He saw the
instant surprise dawn upon her features, which was confirmed when she
looked him in the eye, and as had happened in his entire aimless
interaction with this girl so far, he was tempted to cheeky intentions
yet again, as he wondered if there was, even a dim chance that she had
been taken aback was at the first part of his claim?
"You're not serious?" That, he evaluated, wasn't quite explicit. Even
if, in all fairness, he knew what she meant. Contrary to which, he
spoke,
"About looking handsome?" Her lips parted, no doubt to deliver another
ready retort, but Kripa shut them instead and gave him a serious look.
Her serious look, that is, and he paid heed only cause he did not want
the tease to aggravate her into silence again. A light headiness was
starting to unwind his stressed nerve ends, and he welcomed the comfort
with thoughtless relief.
"About the fall of course."
She stated, redundant though it was for her expression had conveyed the
message. He managed to look crest fallen, but she pointedly ignored the
dramatics, or blamed it on, the obvious, and said, in the same serious
tone, "You didn't actually... I mean... hundreds of feet... " Angad
gave her a small, passive smirk.
"I'm fast discovering belief
is not what you walk around wearing on your sleeve... " he replied
indirectly, making two points at once, and to nail them both he broke
the gaze she had held and looked ahead, gravely. It must have worked,
as her next words indicated, as also did her quietened tone.
"I don't mean it like that Captain. But you might as well discover
while you're at it, that I live less than 50 kms from the international
border? Disbelief is a sort of geographic hazard in my case. A
locational mutation of my genes... " Angad almost laughed before the
thought of the pain it would cause had him stop. Instead he bared his
teeth into a wide smile, and even with that, he only ill concealed, the
stretched and strained muscles in and around the neck area. "Maybe you
should exercise complete rest for a while," she advised, wisely, with a
warm teasing note. He looked at her, tongue against his cheek, offering
some disdain at the comment but she looked back saying or showing no
more, and just the surprise of a stance so genuine and simple from her
kept him quiet.
Not long enough.
"I'm
wondering why you agreed to give me a ride... " Kripa did not dare look
him at this question. It had been the one she had no appreciable answer
to. She shrugged her shoulders, then resigned to say what was the
truth, however far fetched it may sound.
"It was...
intuitive... " She shrugged again, looking ahead all the while, "I... I
was wondering myself... " she paused again, and frowned, not turning to
him, but her eyes were decidedly not on the road.
Something, he
realized seconds later when she nearly forgot to turn around a curving
path, and what lay straight ahead was a fall. Angad lunged forward, the
urgency forcing him to ignore all inside him that rattled and displaced
painstakingly and rotated the wheel, just in time, shocking Kripa to a
paralysis of sort, which she broke only to turn off the ignition as the
car swerved slightly over the soft snow, screeching in ritual, before
coming to an absolute halt. She was so entirely unnerved, that as she
let her face fall into shaky hands, Kripa thought she might cry. Which
was what he saw when he faced her to hurl some stern words at her.
Which were easily subdued at her frail temperament.
All
horrific thoughts were put on hold when she felt a firm hand run
through her hair falling lose, as the clip that had previously held
them came undone. Her face shot up at the unexpected act from him and
when she met his eyes, in confusion, and question, he gave her a strong
smile cupped the back of her head single handedly, in gentle comfort.
"Relax...
" he mumured soothingly, lightly rubbing and massging through her hair
till she nodded. "Are you 'okay'?" He added seconds later and it was
his insinuating tone that made her look up, and her smile was now cast
as much in the lighter vein, but in his eyes she saw solemn interest.
She made a face to not smile at his overt mischief, or the inert
protection, and nodded. Then looking away from him she bent to grab the
lose clutch that had fallen off, but she was taken aback when he held
the wrist of her hand holding it, away from securing it again.
"Why would you want to do that?" he spoke as if that here
should have been obvious enough, but she was quite uncertain she
understood what he meant. Do what? She was just going to re tie her
hair and ... surely ... not ... right? She didn't know it was the
confusion in her eyes that he sort to answer, or a liberty he took
without warning her when he swept a pile of finger combed hair upon her
shoulder, almost, preciously. Either way she was at a loss of
perspective, numb for extracting the righteous reaction out of herself,
not even blinking for what could transpire unknown to her if she dared.
He
stared at her for some seconds, and when she did not shy her gaze away,
he took it for enough to pretend by that she could sense what was
coming, as he could. With a guiding urge in his grip of the back of her
head through her silken tresses he pulled her to him. When their faces
were only officially apart the distance between so stingy, she had
shown neither submission nor resentment, and in all honesty he did not
absorb himself long enough into correcting thoughts. Instead he
couldn't but help stare at the creation of her features, she was a hell
attractive woman, he wanted to say so much. But it could dispel this
aura and he was happily under the spell she had cast so unknowingly...
in all her naivety. Musing what it could be like to get used to all of
it.
Angad smiled, his familiarity of it unfair to her virgin
lack of knowing, just before tilting his face slightly and nestling in
between the luxurious curtain of her falling hair till his lips, most
sensuously brushed against the softness lower into the side of her
neck. She gasped in the first of blunt reactions, and he knew as much
from the restrain that held back her breath the same instant, upholding
with it all of her that was in extreme vicinity of him into a tensed
stillness. He did not withdraw, it was not a sign that signaled he
should, and in conformity perhaps, as his lips remained, relentlessly,
seductively lingering in contact, he sensed the return, and increased
hereby, sweet pulsation ripple the sensitive spot which he now, softly
kissed.
He had to shift his
head ever so slightly that it might as well have been a movement missed
but for the current high physical alertness, to get a glimpse of her
face. The forbidden wishful picture of it was so captivating, Angad
thought for all his control here, she was still in lead. But her eyes
were now lightly shut to not see what she was feeling as completely as
he was and this convenient compromise in the act on her part mattered,
enough that he would not accept. Inevitably his gaze traveled to her
lips, enticingly parted, but he did not kiss them as he so badly wanted
to, as she, no doubt, badly needed him to. Instead, yet again, he let
his own come in contact and brush over them while murmuring in his
husky, notorious drawl, "I've never kissed a girl without knowing her
name."
He wasn't lying,
and Kripa heard it so in his voice, but what she heard more were his
words, upon her lips. And to that her eyes flew open, suddenly aware of
what she had blissfully chosen to remain oblivious to so it could
happen without interruption. When she found her eyes looking back into
his, she saw again, as she had the first instance they had met - the
black color of them, so dark, and how unavoidable the glint in them
still was. There was an additional unmasked sentiment that had
flickered to life, and some dogmatic part of her mind announced to her
in a way of preaching that it was her own doing, and the doing of the
brandy she had willingly offered him to get high on.
When she had
remained unresponsive on the outside to the inundated rush inside her
head, his stray thumb casually caressed, in a potent reminder, the spot
on her neck he had kissed. That, which she had allowed
him to kiss. She knew that instant, in absolute conscience that she
ought to pull back now, but it took her a few seconds too many, of
furious conflict between body and mind before she managed to, and that
with an impolite jerk in her vastly overcome state.
Angad
silenced the hiss that would have betrayed him, and his physical pain
with a harsh pursing of his lips as she released herself from his hold,
and her eyes from his piercing gaze. When she did not speak then, he
knew she wouldn't. And he knew better than to have, but without much
prior consent from himself, his hand extended towards her and as also
he should have guessed, she shied away from it before it could touch
her. Angad swore mentally, withdrawing it to himself, and looked
outside from the window on his own side. And rigidly grit his teeth.
Uncaring of the pains that shot through his neck and upper back.
There was some
fumbling, then tinkering and a sound of its fall, the sound which told
him it was the set of her car keys, and when he perceived movement next
to himself, likely to retrieve the same, he looked in the direction
most briefly. And caught her nonetheless, in her vehement act of wiping
the back of her hand under her eye. Despite himself, the child like
remorse of her action transiently mellowed the angst of his insult at
her willful refrain of him. And he felt, in an uncanny moment,
resentfully responsible for her grief. Her silent denial was bad
enough, this silent acceptance of being wrong on her part was
unbearable to his pride.
Impulsively he
turned to his door and tugged at the handle, which much to irritation
refused to budge. He sighed, very impatiently. "Open my door." There
was an order that rung in those low but sure words which expected only
to be obeyed; distantly she justified it was the captaincy in him. But
more consciously she sensed only shock, having ill recovered from their
shared intimacy and to Kripa, his words sounded impossibly ruthless.
She remained staring at the back he kept upon her, persistently, and
when a couple of seconds had passed without him changing his mind, she
reckoned he would not. But her return to activity was not fast enough
and scaring her, Angad turned around, the glint in his eyes was now
dangerously livid. Strangely then, when he spoke, she did not hear the
same in his voice, which was, she had to admit, amazingly controlled.
"Open the door for
me please," he repeated his wish for her to hear. And concede. And
although she would have asked something his eyes forbade her from
speaking. She turned to the controls on her side and with only a
second's delay clicked one. Then without turning around she mustered
bits of her scattered resolve and started,
"Why .... " to only
hear the opening of his door in response, cutting off the remainder of
her question, and making her turn back to him hurriedly. That he had
removed the binding seat belt off himself and was making his way out,
slowed only by the effort that was needed, caused her to panic even if
it was one word too less to describe her state. A harsh wind rushed in
chilling the space between them and around, robbing its warmth away.
And when he finally stood out of the car just before he could shut the
door behind himself she called out, "Angad!", to his back, as it still faced her.
He stopped. For a
second, Angad Khanna, whether or not he would have willed, stopped to
the sound of his name like he had no other time in his life. There was
a way in which his mum would say it out when calling him, when he was
addressed with this formal first name, a way only she could, and a way
that he come to relate only with her. Coming from anyone and everyone
else, Angad had only ever been that call one comes to recognize and identify oneself with and respond to spontaneously. And yet, as she had spoken it right now, he knew it had been... different... unique.
"Where are you going?"
The words broke his trance, and he debated over whether or not he should face her at all.
"You can't go
anywhere alone in this condition," she said, by way of reminding him of
his constrain, which sounded something much like she was imploring. But
what Angad heard in all of it was the can't,
and that was a word he had not learned to obey. He did not reply, he
did not turn back to her, but her took the first faltering step,
wincing, then struggling to not make a sound that she would reach her.
It wasn't easy, with the alcohol becoming rapidly ineffective. With the
torrential gale and snow offering every form of resistance possible, that she wasn't.
"Angad please!" She
spoke behind him and he heard a shuffling, followed by opening of her
door. At this second instance of hearing her pronounce his name he
could think discretely, a single thought. "I request you to... "
"Who are you?"
Cutting her off, he spelled it thus as she came around to face him. His
expression inquiring, composed, impersonal.
"I... "
"You realize I don't even know your name?"
"Yes, but... "
"And you realize its only right for myself, a captain
in the army to know sufficiently about the identity of a person who
decides to bestow me with such generosity for no reason she can
explain?"
At this Kripa
remained speechless. Even as Angad knew it was only one more of all
those times he had, in face of all else failing, unintentionally used
his infallible skill of debate, with an argument that he knew was as
technically impeccable as it was in reality obnoxious, but one that
could not be questioned back even if both parties were aware of its
false premise. Despite it all, he stood facing her domineeringly, as if
in a greater capacity to do so than was rightful.
"You're doubting my integrity because I helped you without motive?"
She did not look at
him as she asked the simple question, but it threw him off guard
completely. It was, as if, he could see her in a whole new light, with
much greater respect, as a worthy contender would have for an equally
worthy opponent. Except, there was a personalized admiration fast
creeping into all of this that made her anything but an opponent. And
in partial disbelief, as he went over her words in his head, Angad
tried hard to convince himself that the girl he had evoked with a
physical craving for himself inside the car minutes ago and this girl
who had verbally over ridden, with a truth so undeniable, his
impossible claim, was one and the same.
And, he reminded himself bitterly now, he still did not know her name.
"No." he replied, keeping it painlessly short.
"Then allow me to drop you to the base."
He decided, yet
again, that this girl was messing up his system badly. How was he to
conclusively summarize someone who could trust herself with a stranger,
who she could conceive of being compromised by in the tiny cramped car,
but not trust him with her identity. He sighed, wearily. Then nodded.
And even though it was she who had requested, and he who had agreed, he
was aware she had won with having her way, and he was still the one
indebted to her favor. Great!
When the journey
resumed this time Angad leaned his head into the side pane with eyes
firmly shut and retired himself to get some sleep. It was the only safe
way of sharing a ride with her. Kripa for her part was extremely quiet,
concentrating on the driving with a might much more than was needed to
keep her mind from wandering to any dangerous introspection for now.
She was thankful for him to have found the best way to lay all
confrontations to rest, but a teeny part of her desired, much to the
disapproval of her wary instinct, that he would wake up and talk to her
again, like before. And somewhere in her head rang the lyrics, true to her dilemma like she would have never expected...
"kya bura hai kya bhala hai
waqt hi shaayad khuda hai
ho jaane do phir dekha jaayega ... "
Only with extreme caution she risked to glance at him a total of five times... until they had reached what in her estimate was mutually best.
*********************************************
Edited by spln - 13 years ago
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