Chapter 04

Aira

I was full of memories; good-bad, healing-wounding memories.

The thoughts were so clear that I could picture every detail of my blood-shot, teary eyes. I could hear every echo of my cry or the words that choked me upon my own throat.

I remembered pleading my mother for justice. I begged her for mercy, I begged her for Asher but she didn't budge a little.

I told her I didn't want to marry Virat. I told her how much I loved Asher to be without him and all I got was a loud thunder of anger and resistance.

I had never witnessed her more nervy or enraged than that day ever. She was a woman to win battles with patience and calm but that day she didn't have any to offer.

Her face was fuming red, her eyes terribly covered with layers of wrath.

She didn't succumb to any of my deeds.

She had declared without a second doubt about how unhappy I would be with Asher. She said she could envisage the wrecked, horrible years.

She said she felt ashamed of me. She said she couldn't believe I was the daughter she raised.

She told me that she taught me to have faith in God. She taught me to worship, to pray, to cherish the life I was gifted and what I did was ruin her very principles. She was shocked that I was ready to give upon my own essence, my own god. She never thought I would do so in the darkest of her nightmare.

I knew she was going wrong, she was misunderstanding things. And I tired to explain, to clarify but all in vain. She was too stubborn to even lend her ears.

There was nothing she thought of was coming true. I wasn't planning to give up my religion, I could never actually. I had developed a sense of home in it. And neither did Asher want anything that sort. He loved me for what I was, even for the Hindu I was.

Me and Asher were two mature people who knew how to respect mutual differences.

But Mumma failed to comprehend.

She was worried how could I survive with a man who eat animals, we being orthodox vegetarian. She was scared of my life in hijab. She had seen Asher's mother wearing those. The idea of my children being Muslim tormented her and moreover she just couldn't let me go into a religion where they practised polygamy or a religion that terrified her, a religion she could never trust.

She was being a typical, judgemental Hindu. I had never heard her speak so ill about Muslims. We had many family friends who were Muslim and we had always maintained very warm and close terms with them but then her everything changed.

I told her Asher didn't eat non-veg when with me, I told her his mother wears hijab only occasionally. I told her she was being stupid but she cared the least.

She narrated me the incident when she interacted with Asher's mother. It was cold and fierce. She concluded that his mother hated me because she asked Mumma to keep me away from Asher.

It was very tricky. Asher's mother loved him too much to hate me. Moreover she loathed me as much as my mother loathed Asher. It wasn't hatred basically, it was just the anticipation of the dreading consequences.

She broke down at last, tears dripping out of her eyes. She stammered saying she loved me, loved me too much but this one decision and desire of mine had the potential to either save or kill our little world.

She briefed me about her state of grief. She elaborated her fears that people would laugh on Dad if I chose to go. My grandmother would enjoy how I , their daughter they were so proud of betrayed them so smoothly. The family would give upon me, like they gave up on Priya. And she doesn't think she'd be able to live without me.

I knew I was asking nothing less than their entire world from them.

I knew what marrying into another religion, especially Asher's religion meant.

I could gauge the repercussions of being with him.

I could see our families hurled up with problems, confusions, complications and sufferings.

I knew our decision would turn the world upside down but at the end I also knew I loved Asher with my whole being.

When Dad entered into the drawing room that day everything, including our breathing came to a standstill.

He had absolutely no clue about what was happening in my life. I had no courage to face him, to tell him the truth, to tell him what I wanted.

I knew he would never agree. I knew how much he hated Priya and I couldn't even imagine being hated by him. I knew death was better than that.

He called us foolish mourners when we lied about being emotional.

He brought chocolates, my favourite dish from the market that night and even the pair of black heels I was staring at the mall a day before.

His life revolved around me and I was his everything. I was his pride, I was his bundle of happiness. And he was the best Dad in the entire universe.

He did all for me. He never let me do the household chores, he cared about every fine thing I needed or wanted, he was up there with me all night whenever I was sick, he always did everything I could ever ask for and that too very effortlessly and lovingly.

Ofcourse, my parents were the best. They loved me as much as I loved them and hence that day for the first time I saw the idea of me and Asher fading away into no colour.

"Aira, down on earth." Esha snapped me out.

It took me a second to recollect my mind. I was too lost.

I saw her waving her hand in front of my eyes.

I passed an embarrassed smile.

I realised I had goosebumps all over my hand and I felt awkward and afraid with a usual tinge of hollowness.

I looked around, urgently searching for Asher but he was no where near.

" Where do you slip into?" She scrunched her nose in suspicion.

It was time to tell her the story but I lacked guts.

" Nowhere. Sorry." I shook my head. It felt heavy and dizzy.

" And when are we meeting Virat? It's high time for me to know him?" She asked, her eyes showing how eager she was.

" I need some rest right now. I don't feel healthy. I promise we'd go after a while." I slurred, apologetic.

" Okay." She dragged the sound, falling back on the couch with her phone. " You first."

I half smiled, getting up. " I promise, once I wake up. Even Misha and all want to see Virat. We'd go."

With that I went in for a sleep. Much required slumber.