Iztiraar-e-Ishq (A RiAnsh Short Story) Part 2

Iztiraar// Part 3 : A Change of Heart

 

Makafat ka taesh dil mein tha mere,

Gaalib mareez mohobbat ka tha.

Ishq ka jaam ye zehreela, jaane kab

Qalb mein mere bhi utar gaya…

(There was the fury of revenge in my heart,

(Basically Vansh is potrayed as a powerful businessman, so ‘Gaalib’ is used to address him. I didn’t really know the exact meaning until I searched it up today. Hehe, aisa hi chalta hai apna😐🤦‍♀️ )

He was a victim of love (mareez is patient, but anyways, victim is more appealing in this sense. Ok. I’m NOT good at translating 🙂)

Can we just..leave the last two lines and..move on? 🙂

Ok. I didn’t realize when the poisonous drink of love penetrated in my heart too. 🤦‍♀️

Just pretend as if you didn’t see it. I’m cringing hard. 🙃

…..

“Shut up, and come with me.”, she retorted, grabbing his arm.

Irritated, he jerked her hand away.

“Riddhima, I-“, he said, gritting his teeth, but his words trailed off as he felt dizziness wash over him.

“Just leave me alone.”, he groaned as the throbbing pain and the flowing blood drained the life out of him.

His fingers brushed against her skin, sending electrifying sensations throughout her body. Her breath hitched for a moment and a gasp escaped her lips. To her relief, he did not react but little did she know that he had heard it, well and clear.

“Sit here.”, she commanded sternly.

“Ahh!”, he winced in pain as she removed one of the glass shards that had pierced deep into his skin. A few teardrops rolled down her cheeks, and he wouldn’t have even noticed if he weren’t stealing glances at her every now and then as she dressed his wounds.

An unknown feeling washed over him. He couldn’t bear seeing her like that. The streaks of tears flowing from her doe-shaped eyes, felt like sharp daggers that pierced his stone-heart, breaking it into pieces.
But wasn’t it he who was hurt? Why, then, was she crying?

When she had finished, he got up to go.

“Jab koi madad kare, to usse thank you bolte hain. Anyways, main bhi kisse baat kar rahi hoon.” She chuckled sarcastically.

(When someone helps you, you thank them. Anyways, it’s useless to explain some people.)

“Sachcha paropkaar vah hota hai, jiske badle kisi cheez ki apeksha na ki jaye.”, he preached in fine hindi.

(True benevolence is not expecting anything in return of helping someone.)

“Par, main bhi kisse baat kar raha hoon.”, he remarked with sarcasm lacing his voice and made his way to the threshold.

(But, who am I talking to?)

“Bhalaai ka to zamaana hi nhi hai. Ek to logon ki madad karo, upar se free ka bhashan suno. Gosh!”

(There is no place for goodness in this sinful world. On one hand, you help others and then, listen to preaching for free.)

Rolling her eyes, Riddhima huffed in annoyance. Arguing with this man was like throwing pearls before a swine.

Stopping in his tracks, he turned around to face her. Riddhima couldn’t help but notice the playful glint in his eyes, which instantly got replaced by his stone-cold gaze.

“Thank you!”, he said in his usual authoritative tone.

“Kapad taru!”, she spat on his face.

(Ahem..Somewhat means..Fck off.)

Turning around, he chuckled at her antics.

“I understand almost 23 languages, sweetheart; Gujrati included. Better luck next time.”, he teased her, tilting his head a little to the back.

“Hahah..It was meant for you to understand. Duffer!”, she replied; but he had already left.

“Bada aaya, huh!”, she said, making a face.

(Ok. This translation would be real fcked up. Haash! Lemme try. It’s basically a slang used to mock someone, like badi aayi translation dene wali. So, yeah, it’s a sarcastic remark.)

Her ranting session was interrupted by the sound of a thud. Keeping the medicine tube on the table, she hurried outside.

A shrill cry of his name escaped her lips as she saw Vansh on the floor near the staircase, lying in the pool of his own blood. Her heart began beating frantically.

“Angre!”, she shouted as she hurried down the stairs.

“Vansh! Vansh, keep your eyes open.”, she said while patting his cheek.

“Angre!”, she screamed.

“Boss!”, shouted Angre as he came running towards the duo.

“Call the ambulance fast, Angre.”, cried Riddhima.

“Don’t.”, said Vansh, flinching at the violent pain that erupted as he tried to get up.

“Stop behaving like a kid and lay down.”, she scolded him.

“Please.”, he whispered, giving her hand a light squeeze.

“Har please ka matlab… request nahi hota.”, he said weakly and faked a chuckle, looking at her.

Glancing at him with bloodshot eyes, she averted her gaze at Angre.

She’ll deal with this stubborn man later. Right now, saving him is more important.

“I’ll call the doctor.”, said Angre quickly, as he dialed something on his phone furiously.

“Doctor, Nurse, or the whole hospital staff, call anyone, but fast.”, yelled Riddhima.

“Why do you want to save me? Afterall, if.. I die,you’ll be free again.”

Her heart thudded as she felt his pulse declining. His eyes threatened to close.

“Let me die, Riddhima. You..have the chance.”, he whispered.

“Just shut up, will you!?”, she chided him as tears made their way down her cheeks.

Vansh’s P.O.V.

Maut... (Death)

Kabhi socha hai marrna kaisa hota hai?

(Ever thought what dying is like?)

I have; many times. I have seen death; dangerously close. Felt it, fought with it; and won.

Surrounded by hungry flames, the first thought that came to my mind was of death. I knew my dripping blood wouldn’t satiate the thirst of the blazing fire. It wanted more, to swallow the whole of me, eat me alive, burn me to death. With the poisonous smoke filling my lungs, the last thing I remember seeing was my mother being burnt alive. As my vision blurred and I felt myself being smothered, my mind wandered to all the events that took place in my life; ‘tragedies’ would be the right word though.

I was the illegitimate son of Ajay Raisinghania, the then famous business tycoon of the city and the daughter of one of his business associates, Uma Gaikwaad. When the news broke out that my mom was pregnant, neither of my parents wanted to go for an abortion. Though they managed to conceal it for the initial weeks, it couldn’t stay hidden for long. Their parents, who thought it to be the mistake of a fling, were not ready to get them married when the matter could be solved with a simple foeticide. Hearts crumbled, old friendships broke, hope shattered and trust of years collapsed.

I still remember my mother used to tell me what her parents told her when she saw them for the last time; before leaving their house.

Her father had caressed her face with tears in his eyes.

“One day… You will regret not listening to us, Uma. We have brought you up, and we very well know what, and who, is good for you.”

Shaking his head, he removed his spectacles and wiping his tears, gave her a box covered with red velvet. She had refused at first, but he suggested otherwise, for the sake of his fatherly love.

“You still have time, child. Ajay is not a good man. His parents were good friends of ours, but this boy was a brat since childhood. Stay with us. For when you will realize that we were right, you’ll have nothing to do but cry on your reckless decision.” Her mother entwined their fingers and squeezed her hand lightly, with hope shining in her eyes. But the determination in Uma’s eyes did not waver.

“If that’s your final choice, wish you all the best for your future.”, she said, passing her a tight-lipped smile.

Indeed, my grandparents were right. My father was just a selfish man for whom nothing was dear other than money and power. I used to hear him quarrel often with my mother about how he was bearing our expenses all alone; and that she should have asked her parents for financial support, but she was a woman who would die but never let her self-respect get crushed. On my thirteenth birthday, the house we lived in caught fire all of a sudden. Through the keyhole of my little room, I saw my father pouring kerosene on my mother. I screamed out loud, pleaded him to stop, tried opening the door with all my might, but it didn’t open. I cried hysterically, requested him to let her go, and that I was ready to die instead of her. I shouted; told my mother to run away, but she stood rooted at her place, shedding silent tears as her body caught fire. As I turned around, I saw my two little sisters curled up like tiny balls in one of the corners of the room. Though I had still not overcome the trauma of seeing my mother getting killed in the front of my very eyes, the thought of that monster reaching my naïve sisters devastated me. I ran away from the window, taking them along with me. There is no true love in this materialistic world, I concluded. And from that day on, I never trusted anyone; not even my own shadow. I rose like a phoenix from ashes and built an empire from my own sweat and blood. After hearing the news of my mother’s death, my grandfather couldn’t bear the shock and he passed away due to a heart-attack. My paternal grandparents, ashamed of their son’s deeds, expressed their guilt and disowned my father in public, demanding strict action to be taken against the psycho criminal, but he seemed to have vanished in thin air. Eventually, my maternal grandparents died because of prolonged illness, and the custody of the three of us was given to my dadi, Mrs. Indrani Raisinghania.

Then came Ragini. She filled my life with colours. She effortlessly seeped through the walls I had built around myself and unmasked my façade of being emotionless. Not that I never craved for someone who’d love me. I did. But there was no one with who I could share my feelings with. I wanted someone with whom I could talk for hours on end, someone who would willingly offer to share my pain, with whom I could laugh and also cry my heart out and never get judged, someone who would love Vansh; the real me. When she proposed me, I had thought that she was the one, in front of whom I could pour my heart out without any hesitation. So, I let her see whatever she wanted to see, know the darkest of my secrets, the most painful memories that troubled me in my nightmares, the loveliest of moments I’d daydream of, and wish to make them true someday. But, alas, she turned out to be the same, a gold-digger who had nothing to do with me. She was only after the successful business tycoon, Vansh Raisinghania. I knew I’d break apart someday, but never thought so soon, and so hard. She left me in pieces, breathing yet dead from the heart.

And once again, here I was; on the verge of dying, but in actual this time, for the world to know. The continuously flowing blood was draining the life out of me, and I didn’t really know how long it would have taken for me to die. My reverie was broken when I heard Riddhima screaming my name. Why does she care?

If not for Sia and Dadi’s extreme liking for her, I wouldn’t have married her. Added to that was her personality, that attracted me towards her. Beneath those bewitching eyes adorned with innocence there were undoubtedly many mysteries, waiting to be unravelled. Her behaviour had always intrigued me. It felt as if she was hiding something. She was an enchanting puzzle that I wanted to solve. And when she had practically thrown the resignation letter right on my face, it only excited me more to play the game with a fierce competitor like her. Not that I didn’t give her the chance to escape. I did, many times. But she didn’t run away. Either she was actually innocent or way too clever.

But still I failed to decode her. Why does she want to save me? If I die, she will be free once again.

Riddhima’s P.O.V.

Why am I crying? I should be happy no? The man whom I hate the most is dying afterall, in front of my very eyes. I have waited for this moment for years. Then why can’t I see him suffering? Maybe, it is because I want to kill him with my own hands. It has to be that. No, I don’t feel anything for him. It is just out of general compassion.

What does he think of me? He must be a heartless person, but not me. I am gonna save him, make him alright and then smother him to death myself.

….

Ok. This might be confusing, but the initial plot is somewhat same to the original story of the show, except for the Kabir part. So we are just pretending as if we don’t know Kabbuwa yet. I didn’t reveal some part of Riddhima’s side of the story, and you must have noticed that. There was more to this part, but it had gone way toooooooo long, and even after typing for days, complete hone ka naam hi nahi le raha tha. Honestly, I was getting bored like hell, so yeah, had to extend the parts. Hehe! And I am going somewhere for a few days, so I might not be able to update. Sorry for keeping you hanging in the middle of nowhere. 😁