Neitra

"For I can't help, falling in love with you", I end the song flicking the last string of the guitar looking at my husband standing behind my dancing in laws.

Priyanshi, sitting on the floor sways and claps soundlessly. And after few minutes I realise that everyone was clapping, gathering around me.

My eyes try to avoid the crowd, now lacking the confidence I felt when I decided to sing in front of everyone.

Abhay's eyes meet mine. Surprised.....or perhaps astonished. He constantly looks in between the guitar and me.

"Guitar and you?" I love how Abhay's brow fuse cutely and a civilized chuckle leaves his mouth.

Can a man be more pretty?

"Was it that unexpected?" I ask.

"Very", he says coming closer to me. "Everytime I think I have known you completely, you turn the table."

It's true. He doesn't know everything about me. And same thing goes with me. These four months of relationship have brought us so close that we know each other's traumas.

And funny how we are still unaware of each other's little things.

"There's always more time than we think we do", I say. "There's plenty of time to know each other."

He nods.

Hand in hand we stroll aimlessly in the whole garden, away from rest of the world.

From a distance both of ours family can be seen talking together. Looking at our direction, they smile fondly. They go back to their conversation, probably about us.

"What are you doing?" I ask Abhay as I feel him tugging on my hair.

I touch the area where his hands were and feel a flower in my loose bun.

"You look even more beautiful adorned with the flower", he says making me smile. "Just like Maa Gauri."

(Mata Gauri is a Hindu deity.)

It's so hard to not smile around him. Smile....till my cheeks hurt. That is the effect his presence has on me.

"What's your favourite flower?" He asks as we look at the various flowers planted along the fence.

"Guess", I tell him.

I scan all the available flowers trying to pick a random name. I never had a favourite flower.

"Umm... sunflower?"

"Absolutely", and I instantly know what my favourite flower is.

"Really?"

I nod.

I had never came across questions such as what flowers do I like? Or what my favourite colour is? Or my favourite food.

For some reason they felt stupid and absurd, untill now that even the most stupid question feels like the most intelligent one.

And I realise this now, in all these twenty seven years of my existence noone knows my favourites.

Maybe noone tried to....

My gaze effortlessly travels to the people I expected so much from.

My parents.

Siiting on the long luxurious couch which my brother in between them, laughing together just like a happy family.

I look at the family I never had. A family that was always happy without me in it. It wasn't my family.

"Neitra", Abhay begins after catching me looking at them. "If we can't improve or right the wrongs did to us, we should stop fighting against it. This would only worsen the pain."

"I know that."

Sometimes I wonder, what happiness is. And why wasn't I, a part of it. I feel jealous. Jealous of their happiness. Jealous of my brother's happiness.

He never witnessed what quarreling parents looked like. He never witnessed what loneliness is. Never had to stay in a hospital room, sick and alone with just nurses by your side while your parents were out on a vacation.

He would never witness the things I did.

"You know Abhay?" I lay my head on his shoulder. "When Shashank came into our lives, I was finally happy and at peace. Not because of his arrival....but because of the changes his arrival caused."

Mom kisses on Shashank's forehead while I feel a kiss on my head too, by Abhay.

"She would not longer hit me on small things, wouldn't say bad words to me. She would smile like I always wanted her too. However I was even a little  jealous, Shashank had managed to do the things I was never able to. But more than that, I was happy....I no longer needed to face her wrath."

It is so painful to recall these memories that I have buried deep inside me.

His hold on my hand tightens and he takes a sharp breath.

"Mujhe to ye samajh nahi aata ki aap ummeed bhi kisse krrhi thi Neitra, shayad abhi bhi kar rahi hai", his angry words fall into my ears.

(I don't understand why would you keep expecting from them.)

"I'm not expecting anything from anybody", I turn my face away, looking at the guests now taking their leave.

"Kisse jhuth keh rahi hai aap? Mujhse? Mujhe bin kahe samajh aati hai aap", he says.

(Whom are you lying to? Me? Someone who understands you when you don't even utter anything.)

Aise log dundhna muskil hai....jo bin kahe aapko samajh jaye. Aur usse bhi mushkil hota hai in logo ko humesha sahej ke rakh sakna.

(It's difficult to find people who understand you without any need to tell anything but it's even more difficult to keep them in your life always.)

Right now, I just know one thing. I'll be keeping Abhay in my life forever even if I would need to trade all my precious possessions.

"It's not wrong to expect things Neitra, we are humans and we are bound to expect. But what is wrong, is to expect from wrong people."

It's just us and the family members now in the whole garden. The guests have left.

"Ummeed na rakhne se kayi zyada mushkil hai un rakhi hui ummeedon ko chorna, jo shayad hum kabhi seekh nahi paye Abhay. Ye man ummedein rakhna chorta hi nahi!"

(It's hard not to expect but it's even more harder to stop expecting when you once did. It's something that I never learnt Abhay. This heart never stops expecting.)

"Then learn", he whispers frustrated. "Learn for me. Why can't you take me as the only family you have got? I am your family Neitra, and I'll do anything to fulfill your expectations. Not because you're my responsibility. But because .....I love you."

He says determined.

When did I get so lucky? Lucky to have this feeling of contentment.

Contentment is scary.

What if I lose it one day again.

"Papa!"

We are distracted from a sharp cry. Turning towards the source I find Priyanshi wailing.

"Papa!" Her face red from crying, she runs for Ansh bhaiya.

Tensed, both of sprint towards her direction. Others do the same.

"What happened", Abhay asks concerned.

"What happened baby?" Ansh bhaiya envelops her into his chest, trying to pacify her.

"Hurt", Priyanshi says between her hiccups.

"Where are you hurt, show me", Bhabhi examines her whole body.

"Shit, she is bleeding from her finger", Rishi notices.

"Show me", I ask taking her in my arms.

"No!" She frets in my lap and lunges for her father's arms.

Her crying hurts my heart.

"Okay okay hold on. Just show me where you're hurt okay", I try to coax her. But she buries her head in Ansh bhaiya's chest and continues to sob.

Mumma hurriedly grabs the first aid from the house. I apply ointment on her cut finger.

"It wouldn't burn her right?" Ansh bhaiya asks.

"No..just a little."

"Where was she even playing?" My father asks.

Everyone is worried for this little cute fairy. And how cutely she is making everyone dance at her cut fingertip.

"Don't know. Oh god. She is hurting so much", Ansh bhaiya looks as if he will cry any moment.

Bhabhi rolls her eyes at him.

"It's a little cut, don't overreact." She teases him.

We all chuckle as he glares at her.

His hand repeatedly stroke Priyanshi's back whispering soothing words. Just how protective a father could get.

"It's always the fathers that daughters run to", Mumma says laughing hinting towards Shubhangi. Even she is a daddy's girl.

"Mumma", Shubhangi whines.

"True", Bhabhi says.

As the line falls into my ears, my eyes lock with that of my father's for five seconds. I know he must have remembered it too.

Remembered the day and the incident just as vividly as I did.

The day that a six years old Neitra had run to her father crying to complain about her mother who burnt her hand as a punishment for a vase she broke accidentally.

Thinking that he would probably protect her from her mother.

"Get out of my office!" He had shouted at me back then. Workload probably. He pushed me out of his office that day, frustrated. "Never come for silly things."

Silly?

He hadn't even listened to what I was saying.

With dry tears I looked at my water filled wound on my forearm. The wound in a perfect shape of a kitchen ladle she heated and pressed on my skin.

Silly? Yes probably it was silly.

That was the first and last time Neitra ever ran towards her father.

An rough emotion passes through his eyes, probably of guilt as I look at him without a blink. I turn my face away finding it hard to comprehend. This is the longest I have ever looked at him. Facing him is the hardest thing for some awkward reasons.

I look at my forearm where I was burnt as a child. The scar is no longer visible on my hand rather etched in my heart where it hurts more and would last forever.

It's 9 p.m. and we together as a family sit at the dining having dinner.

"I didn't know Neitra could sing so well", my father in law says with a hint of pride.

Mumma caresses my head before taking a seat beside him.

Although the attention seems a bit uncomfortable, I take it with a small smile.

"Even we didn't know", my own father says, sitting in the chair just in front of me.

My mother and brother occupy the either seats beside him.

"Why would you know anything at all", I hear Abhay whisper to himself frowning at my father.

"True", my mom says. "She barely shared anything with us."

She laughs.

"Neitra is a bit strange when it comes to speaking", she chuckles. "The unusual quiet and calm kid, a little too mature for her age."

My hands stop right on the plate.

Quiet? Strange? Too mature?

These words don't settle good with me.

"Quiet?" I see Abhay smirking. "I have seen the loudest version of her. You surely missed the best thing mother in law."

Everyone smiles at the table. My mother, a fake one.

"I'm happy to know she is finally getting out of her weird shell."

Weird? One more word added.

"It is even more weird how people think if they close their eyes, the things disappear."

Now a cold war has begun between my mother and my husband. Abhay's taunts masked in a sweet tone doesn't get unnoticed by anyone at the table.

"What are you even saying, Abhay?" Mom gives a nervous smile.

"Just stating, that my wife isn't weird or strange. She is normal just like rest of us. Out of all other people, you should have known that." I clutch on Abhay's thigh pleading for him to stop.

But would he?

"So you're telling that I don't understand my daughter?" The smile and the casual tone has disappeared from my mother's words.

My heart thumps nervously. This conversation wouldn't get to right path.

"Isn't that obvious?"

"Abhay please stop", I whisper a yell.

He glares at my mother's direction, ignoring me rudely.

Papa and Mumma exchange confused glances. Shubhangi stares at me, her left brow rises asking what was wrong.

I shake my head. Even I don't know.

"Kids these days.....always accusing their parents for their own mistakes and attitude", mom looks pointedly at my direction.

"They need to know what kind of job they di--"

"I am done. I'll see if the decoration has been wrapped up or not", I stand and leave cutting him in between.

"Focus on your food Revati", is the last thing I hear from my father's mouth before going into the garden.