Behne Do Last Part

Geet could not understand if a wish voiced just moments ago could come into being right in front her. She walked towards him in a daze… eyes brimming with tears. The complaint her eyes held told Maan of a yearning that reflected his. The vision of the night where Geet was swirling in the rain played in front of his eyes. His mind registering the emotions he then felt and how it was neither her beauty that mesmerised him then nor was it now. But it’s those unbidden raw emotions splayed on her face, letting him see the real Geet that she is, the Geet he wants to own and make as His.

The Geet who was not afraid to laugh silly at him, to act childishly for his attention, to reprimand him at his quiet attitude, his stormy anger or to possessively complain that he doesn’t give her any time or ufff… that he doesn’t even miss her! A sigh of relief escaped his lips as they curled into a small smile with these thoughts running in his mind.

Maan’s loud sigh brought Geet out of her dazed state and she instantly lowered her eyes. Maan held his breath, his heart thudded with the fear if the curtains to her heart be drawn back again! But as Geet raised her eyes to his face and noted the faint smile he held, she frowned. Her nose red and her eyes tinged with anger. He let out a slow chuckle inaudibly whispering something. This time it made Geet twitch the ends of her scarf in her fingers with further annoyance.

Maan stepped closer pulling the scarf off her fingers and holding it in his own. Geet tried pulling the scarf back but Maan held on firmly bringing her closer as her fingers were latched tight to the ends of the scarf as well. Geet’s fury filled eyes looked up at him as she stood a mere breath away from him.

Maan looked straight at her amber brown eyes and whispered ‘Behne do na iss Gusse ko aur iss dard ko… dekhne do na mujhe jo sirf mera hai’. He pulled the scarf even tighter; his breath now falling on her beautiful face. Geet’s lips parted as they quivered under his breath, she looked on into his big deep eyes and whispered back ‘Jo aapka hai, jis par haq tha aapka tabse, wohi maang rahe ho’.

Maan’s gaze softened on her features that glowed under the setting sun, the clouds that had given away the chance for dusk to touch this moment of epiphany with its golden haze.

He blew a breath on her lips and with a voice laced in a passion he had never given words to Maan stated ‘Only Mine… Sirf Meri’.

Behne De Part III

I have tasted defeat in my wins, sadness in my happiness and have had my trust broken with betrayal. But never have I felt my will surrender to a pain so bitter and yet so sweet. An unquenchable longing to make her only mine gripped my mind, body and soul. 
The rain now breathing its last of drizzle, I decided to not lose any more time and changed into a dry pair of an old white button down shirt and blue jeans. I made my way down the cobbled path to the small two bedroom bungalow she calls home. A moment of hesitation came over me as I raised my knuckles to knock on the large wooden door.
With awaited breaths I weighed all the words on my tongue and willed it to flow when I confront her. Starting with the excuses of coming to meet her so to review the development of the project and schedule the site-work plan.
Another five minutes had gone by and still there was no movement from the other side of the door. Restlessness set in and I couldn’t wait any longer so I walked round the small alley way to the patio at the back of the outhouse.  
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The fire that I have been trying so hard to douse out in my heart for all this time has now settled into a flicker of slow flames at the pit of my stomach. The realisation that my heart has come to call him as its sole owner fuelled tiny butterfly jitters within me. I shivered with the thought of how I could ever stop my eyes from expressing the same if I was to see him. My heart suddenly ached with the forlorn thought that he has avoided me for all these weeks and with the way he works I may not see him for many more. 
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I saw that the doors were left wide open and walked on to the back porch looking for any sign of her. I turned looking over the patio a gentle gush of breeze brought the faint noise of jingles to my ears - her anklets giving away her hideout under the shade. Clad in a white chudidaar Kurti with her long hair open down to her waist, holding a flower in her hand she sat with one leg stretched out, head resting on the trunk of the old tree.

My heart swelled at her sight, she is a woman with a heart so untouched and yet so deeply scarred. Her strength and patience told a story beyond her age and yet her childlike innocence emanates a vulnerability she hides so well. My lips broke the silence around as I uttered her name- Geet.