hi guys ! i just want to tell u that this is not my os i justwant every laakhAM / ViShi fan to read it cause it has been so beautifully 🙂
THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS
She should be used to his gaze by now.
She has been the centre of it for years now, although sometimes it seems longer than that, like eons, like she was born under his gaze and would fade away the same way too.
The weight of it bears on her, bringing her down like an anchor, heavy and unrelenting. It keeps her grounded and she finds herself pinned under it. Afraid to even breathe, convinced she will shatter from the intensity of it one day.
He looks at her like she is the only thing that exists in the universe and under his stare, everything else fades away. She feels infinite and insignificant all at once. He places more focus, more attention, more importance on her than she can handle, seeing her for more than she is, can ever be. She isn’t. Isn’t that strong, important or anything special. She’s ordinary, average but he looks at her like she is the center of his existence and pushes her to question her very own being.
It doesn’t have to be this way. She knows that there are a lot of things she can do, could have done about it.
She could have learnt to grow used to it, accustomed to it to the point of the indifference. Where those eyes bearing down on her would feel as natural as the rays of the sun or the moonlight that streamed through her window. Where they would stop mattering to her, a natural phenomenon, a resigned acceptance.
Or she could have asked him to stop. Called him out on it. But that was an unimaginable task, so ludicrous she couldn’t even dream it. To voice it, she would have to acknowledge it, describe it, explain it. That would make it real. Tangible. Alive. And she doesn’t think she can live with any more proof of it than what already is. Nor the aftermath of it. The gaze could change or it could disappear. She doesn’t think she can deal with it’s fluctuation nor its absence.
His eyes, all-consuming, piercing eyes fill the void of his voice. They scream at her, swirling with a whirlpool of emotions and she’s always been afraid of loud noises, afraid of drowning. So she never looks up at them and he never looks away. Waiting to be heard while she stays too afraid to understand, listen, answer.
This was Laakhan Bhushan Thakur after all, and she was just Poonam Kumari, he had little time for words and she was well versed in the language of silence.
They were a strange fit. While he blazed and raged like the ruthless sun, she was calming and soothing like the midnight moon. He forced people to run for cover and she drew out their deepest desires and secret confessions. His head bowed before no one while hers had forgotten how to straighten up, his laughter, rare and unheard, made people’s blood run cold while she couldn’t even smile of her own accord.
He’s the dark prince while she’s a princess in name only, he’s the son of the king’s brother acting as the minister of court while she’s the daughter of the commander in chief who in reality is just a loyal servant.
They are as starkly different as night and day. And yet far above the ranks and titles, beyond all that, they are two people brought against all odds and bound by an oath made years ago. An oath that binds them in a union of opposites, complimentary in essence yet contradictory in nature. One where silence, ambition, dreams, love, power and fear reign supreme. Very much like the town they live in, much like Begu Sarai, and the relationship between it’s rulers and it’s people. She’s the embodiment of the people while he’s the poster child of the reigning family.
Theirs would be a marriage of quiet gestures and small tokens, too subtle for the untrained eye, too easily misconstrued to mean less than what it was, or more than it could ever be. One where the power dynamics would seem so obvious, where he would clearly be the head, the one in charge and she the quiet docile wife.
But only behind doors would the truth prevail – her acceptance and love would be his only respite, the only solace for his raging heart. And as is the strange case of Begu Sarai’s people and it’s rulers, theirs too would be the same. He would only function, only rule as long as she accepted him, let him.
Perhaps by then, with understanding and time, she’ll finally see his gaze for what it always was – the shelter she sought that protected her, and the anchor that kept her safe against the wild tides.