Swasan – Captivated Forever Chapter 11 – By Anjali

SWASAN – CAPTIVATED FOREVER!
Heyy, It’s Anjali back with the next chapter!!!
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Rohan is injured
CHAPTER 11
The only word Sanskaar was able to bring at the end of the hour was that Rudra Singh Oberoi had not reported to the general yesterday—a serious omission, given the fact that he was to have brought an immediate reply to the important letter he had undertaken to deliver.
Neither had he reported back this morning.
The rest of the embassy staff appeared half annoyed, half concerned—but not concerned enough, it seemed, to have initiated any active inquiries. Sanskaar made a decision to go beyond the borders directly to the battle area and try and find him.

Sanskaar reached there only to find scores of dead and the receding army lines. He stopped few people and asked them if there was any chance Rudra had crossed the second barrier of borders and gone into enemy territory but his theory was laughed upon.
One of the soldiers : Why would an embassy official do that? Even we aren’t allowed to go there. There are specific rules that both sides followed.
That evening, when Swara learnt about Rudra’s continued absence, her worry knew no limits.
Swara (looking at Sanksaar) : Where could he be?
Sanskaar could see fear in her widened eyes. Her already-pale face lost even more colour.
Swara : All Rudra had to do was send a message to Brigadier General Khanna. What if he got caught in the cross-fire? Rudra might be easy-going but when he has work, he makes sure he completes it. He wouldn’t have abandoned his duty like that. So he had to have gone to Brigadier General Khanna. But where is he now? Where… is he?

Her voice caught at the end and Sanskaar was afraid that she might go weak. He thought of the reply that Rudra was supposed to bring back to the embassy but did not tell her.
He took her by the elbow and walked her out of Mrs Raichand’s house. They sat on the front steps, her arms entwined around his.
Sanskaar : Don’t worry, Shona. I will go and talk to General Raichand and Brigadier-General Khanna today if I find them. They are expected back shortly. I promise that I shall keep looking for Rudra. You stay here and help as much as you can.
Swara (her voice growing strong) : What about Shivaay? I have to call him and tell him.
Sanskaar : Phone lines are down today here. You will not be able to contact him today through the internet or otherwise. Wait for one more day. If any news is obtained, We’ll tell him first thing in the morning.
He stood and helped her to her feet. She tipped back her head and gazed into his eyes without speaking, and he lowered his head and set his lips to her forehead, regardless of the presence of a number of pedestrians who were out on the street. He cupped her face in both hands and smiled at her.

Sanskaar : Be strong, Shona!
He left and thought about the promise he had made. Finding a man in the midst of scores of bodies and injured was no joke. Nor was it an easy task. Every now and then, he found people lamenting the deaths of their loved ones. A lucky few smiled happily as they saw their kin injured but alive.

Knowing that it would be easier to go on horseback, He hired one and set off once more to the battlefield.
There was still the acrid smell of smoke on the air, mingled with the harsher stenches of blood and death. People were hurrying about here through churned mud and trampled crops with a great sense of urgency—burial details were already hard at their morbid work.
Sanskaar wandered about, both on horseback and on foot, asking continually—in vain—if anyone knew and had seen Rudra Singh Oberoi. He looked down into the faces of a hundred thousand dead, it seemed, but none was the one he looked for and dreaded seeing. In the end, with the advent of another day’s dusk not far off, he had to give up his search and return to Srinagar.
Perhaps, he thought hopefully, he had somehow missed Rudra on the road and he had been back in Srinagar for several hours. Or perhaps he had been in the city since yesterday. Perhaps he was injured and was in another facility, forgetting his promise to find his sister and take her out of Srinagar to safety. Perhaps . . .

And perhaps Rudra Singh Oberoi was dead somewhere between Srinagar and the far edge of that battlefield. If that were so, he would never be found now, given the number of bodies. It was possible that he had already been buried in some mass grave.
He would just have to hope that there was some other explanation, Sanskaar decided.
Swara had not yet returned to the Singhanias’, he discovered when he called there. Neither had Rudra Singh Oberoi been there. Sanskaar left, assuring a somewhat agitated and annoyed Mr Singhania that he would escort her home within the next hour.

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Swara had been busy the whole day tending to the forty injured who were currently residing in the house. Her work wasn’t easy or copacetic, but she did it without flinching.
She was an Oberoi, it was true, and the Oberois prided themselves upon being tough and intrepid. But even so, she was not yet twenty one years old. She had seen more than her sister had.
She sat there besides a man who had high fever and applied a cooling press on his forehead every few minutes. Soon, the job becae so mechanical that her mind drifted off to other matters.
Swara (thinking) : What would Shivaay tell if he knew where I was now? Swara, the sister of the mighty tycoon Shivaay Singh Oberoi was tending to the wounded, not caring about her company or her clothes. He would probably be proud of me later. But I think first, He would strangle me. But…

Mrs Raichand : Swara beta? Sanskaar has come.
Swara came out of her reverie and rushed out of the room mumbling a thanks to Mrs Raichand. It was only at that moment that she remembered what errand he had undertaken earlier in the afternoon. And it was only then that she realized Rudra still had not come. She hurried into the crowded hall, pulled her shawl from a hook there, and joined Mr Maheshwari, who was waiting outside on the steps.

She drew a deep breath of fresh air, realizing as she did so how very unfresh the air was indoors. At the same moment she became aware of her untidy, blood-streaked appearance. But it did not matter. None of it mattered. She turned an anxious face to his.
Swara : Rudra?
She didn’t have to listen to his reply. She could see it in his eyes. But nevertheless, He spoke.

Sanskaar : I couldn’t find him. I went about searching all over the place but I couldn’t. I spoke to General Raichand but Brigadier General Khanna is negotiating with the other side and won’t come back for a few days. (forcing a cheerful note in his tone) Rudra could be with him.
Swara : You know better than to talk in that cheerful tone, Mr Maheshwari. Tell me the truth.
Sanskaar (softly) : What do you want me to say?
Swara (whispering) : That he might never come back.
Sanskaar took a step in front.

Sanskaar (in the same soft tone) : He may not.
Swara nodded, her knees feeling like they might crumble at any moment. She fought panic and hysteria.
Where was Rudra?
She was lost in her thoughts until she heard Sanskaar speak.
Sanskaar : He came back late from Punjab that day, Didn’t he?
Swara nodded gingerly.
Sanskaar : But he came back. Maybe he was diverted. Maybe he stopped to help someone. Who knows what could delay a man yesterday? And today. Tomorrow he will come and be surprised that you worried so much today.

Her hand, she realized suddenly, was firmly in his clasp. His fingers were laced with hers.
Swara (looking straight in Sanskaar’s eyes) : Do YOU believe that?
Sanskaar : I think it’s a possibility.
Rudra could not be dead, she thought. He simply could not. There could not be a world without Rudra in it—or without any of her brothers or her sister, for that matter.
Rudra would come tomorrow. There would be some simple explanation for this absence and this silence.

She would kill him when she saw him.
Sanskaar : Swara!
Swara opened her eyes to see that she had collapsed on his shoulder. Mr Maheshwari had one arm pressed firmly against her shoulder. His head was bent close to hers—she could feel the warmth of his breath on her cheek. Her hand was still firmly in his clasp.
Sanskaar : Shona!

It was hard to remember a time when she had been offended with his calling her by that endearment. Now it wrapped more warmly about her than her shawl, and she closed her eyes and gave in to the temptation to tip her head to one side to nestle on his shoulder. She had always prided herself on her strength to stand alone. She had three older brothers to fight her battles for her. She had never called upon them to do so.
She had THREE older brothers . . .
Sanskaar (whispering) : You’re exhausted, My dear. You look like you’re about to drop. Come, I’ll take you home.
Swara had not been paying attention to his words, but at the last word, She sighed.
Swara : Home! I miss it so much. I… I wish I could go back.

Sanskaar : You can go back. You are leaving with the Singhanias tomorrow.
Swara straightened then, her exhaustion disappearing from her face and the characteristic stubborness appearing on her face.
Swara : I will not leave without news of my brother. No one can stop me.
Sanskaar and Swara began walking towards his car.
Sanskaar : Whatever your decision may be, I will support you. But you need to think after a good night’s rest. I will continue my search for your brother tomorrow.
She was standing on the step above him. She set her hands on his shoulders and gazed into his eyes. When had he come to seem so strong and dependable to her? So much like a trustworthy comrade?

Swara : I’m sorry, Mr Maheshwari. I’m sorry for misjudging you. I still think you deliberately provoked me the first night we met and organising a picnic just for me was way over the top. But I know now that you were merely bored and finding a way to divert yourself. Now, in the last few days, when life has become deadly serious, you have shown yourself to be the kindest, most dependable man in my world.

Sanskaar was speechless. Then he cupped her face and brought it down for a kiss. Very lightly on the lips, his own warm and soft and slightly parted. Very similarly to the way he had kissed her in Persephone Gardens, except that it felt entirely different. It felt less lascivious, less naughty, less thrilling. And yet she felt it down to her toes and through to the depths of her heart. It felt . . . right. Yes . . . it felt right. She wanted to twine her arms about his neck and lean into him and lose herself in his dependable strength.

But it was a luxury and a weakness she would not allow herself—not now and not ever! Not even with the man she would finally love for the rest of her life, whoever he turned out to be.
She would never allow her own strength, her own will, her own uniqueness, to be submerged beneath those of any man—or woman.
She looked gravely into Mr Maheshwari’s lazy, heavy-lidded eyes and then turned and hurried into the house to find Mrs Raichand to tell her that she was leaving now but would return in the morning.

He was her dear, dear friend, she thought, that was all.
It was strange after their earlier foolish, flirtatious, even dangerous relationship. But it was true nonetheless. He felt like her best friend in the whole world.
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Swara HAD VERY LITTLE SLEEP THAT NIGHT. How could she? She was exhausted after long hours of work and the emotional drain of being among the wounded. She was so worried about Rudra that her stomach could not seem to stop churning. And she had endured an upsetting hour with the Singhanias after Mr Maheshwari escorted her home.
They were still planning to leave in the morning. All their bags and trunks were packed and piled in the hallway. Reshmi came running to hug Swara and apologize for not joining her at Mrs. Raichand’s. Her papa had expressly forbidden it, she explained, and her mama had needed her assistance with Rohan.
It took two women and a houseful of servants to look after one wounded man? Swara had thought in some amazement, though she had made no comment aloud.
Reshmi : Come Swara, You can meet Rohan now.

Captain Rohan was lying in the middle of a large canopied bed, his broken leg elevated on cushions beneath the blankets. His head was propped up on a pile of white, down-filled pillows. He was wearing a snowy white nightshirt. A fire crackled in the hearth despite the warmth of the night. Heavy curtains had been drawn across the windows. At first glance Swara could not help making the comparison with the less than ideal conditions under which the poor wounded men she had been tending for two days were suffering. Yet even they were more fortunate than hundreds, maybe thousands, of others.

But it was only a momentary thought. Rohan had been undeniably hurt while fighting in the thick of a ferocious battle. He might just as easily have been killed. There were ugly purple bruises down one side of his face, and one hand, resting outside the bedcovers, was heavily bandaged. His cheeks were slightly flushed with fever, his eyes bright.
He looked every inch the romantic hero warrior, and Swara’s heart went out to him. She gazed at him with sympathy and his eyes brightened as he turned his head on the pillow.
Rohan : Swara! You’re finally here. I have returned with a victory to lay at the feet of all those most dear to me.

He did not take his eyes off her as he spoke, and she knew that his words were intended just for her. He had come back to her. She was the one at whose feet he laid his victory.
She smiled at him at the same time as her heart sank into her slippers. The meeting seemed such a long time in the past. She felt that she had lived a whole lifetime since then. Yet, despite all he had gone through, he was speaking now exactly as he had spoken then.
Swara : I’m so happy you’ll be safe and sound soon, Rohan. I believe the courage of the men on both sides will long be remembered.

Swara thought back to the time when she heard the wounded treat both their own and the opposite side’s soldiers with respect. They are the same as us, one of them had said. When all is said and done, We shouldn’t discriminate between the two.
Mrs Singhania (shocked) : Brave? That side? The ones who threatened us? They weren’t brave, Swara. They are tyrants and traitors. But we must allow Rohan to get some rest now. It has been a long, painful day for him. I sent my maid up to pack your things, Swara. You will find that all has been made ready for your departure in the morning.
Swara (shaking her head) : I must stay for some more time, Mrs Singhania. Rudra is still missing and Mr Maheshwari has given me his word that he will try and find him again tomorrow.
Mrs Singhania (dismissing her request) : Nonsense Dear! What place do we have in bothering with the men’s problems? Rudra Singh Oberoi is just fine. He’ll be busy. It’s good to stay out the way. Besides, I need to get my son fixed. Now, Why don’t we talk about this tomorrow. Go and sleep now.
Swara said nothing but made a vow to stick by her decision.

She genuinely appreciated Reshmi’s concern for her brother and her sympathies and Swara’s own safety but Swara was stubborn. She wouldn’t leave until her brother was found.
The next morning, When Swara repeated the same to the Singhanias, a battle begun.
Mr Singhania bullied. Mrs Singhania bullied and cajoled. She reminded Swara that she was there under her care, a responsibility conferred upon her by Shivaay Singh Oberoi, who would be justifiably angry with his sister if he knew that she was behaving so badly.

She commanded Swara to accompany them on their journey. She begged her. She shed copious tears and called her a stubborn, undutiful, horrid girl. She knew—she had always known—that the Obeoris were a wild, unruly lot (After all, they grew up without parents) , but she had mistakenly thought Swara a sweet girl, different from the others. Now she realized how wrong she had been.
Shivaay would be understandably furious with his sister if she refused to obey the direct command of the person he had entrusted with her care and safety.

But Swara was indeed an Oberoi.
Throughout the tirade she clung to the chair and retreated behind the facade of cold hauteur at which all her siblings excelled. She remained obstinate and adamant. She would not leave until she had heard from Rudra. It soon became obvious to her that the Singhanias intended to leave this morning anyway, whether she accompanied them or not. But if they had intended to call her bluff, they were to be sadly disappointed. She would stay with Mrs. Raichand or one of the other officers’ wives, she told them. Any one of them would gladly offer her a temporary home. And staying would enable her to continue helping with the care of the wounded.
Mrs Singhania : You wicked girl. How can you do this to us?
Swara had had enough.

Swara (her eyes blazing) : Mrs Singhania! Rudra is my brother. MY BROTHER! You loved your son so much that you were willing to stay. I love my brother the same way. I appreciate everything that you’ve done for me so far by letting me stay with you all, but I must wait here for news of my brother. You cannot change my mind.
Rohan (weakly) : Swara!

Swara turned to see Rohan being carried in a stretcher to the ambulance outside. She hurried eagerly towards him. Why had she not thought of applying to him earlier? His mother would do anything he asked.
His bruises looked blacker in the daylight, his complexion paler except for the flush of a slight fever high in his cheeks. His splinted and heavily bandaged leg was stretched out along the seat. His eyes were clouded with pain. She felt a rush of genuine sympathy for him and set her hand in his outstretched one.
Swara : Rohan! I…

Rohan : How can you think about staying here?
Swara : My brother. He’s here. I need to stay with him. I don’t know what has happened to him.
Rohan : But you do know what has happened to me, Swara. Am I not at least as important to you as your brother? Are you not concerned that I may limp for the rest of my life if my leg is not properly attended to within the next few days?
She stared at him, frozen into silence. This was the man who had begged for the honor of fighting for her? Who had begged her to mourn him for the rest of her life if he should die in battle? But he was in pain. She could see that in his eyes. It must have caused him terrible agony to be carried down from his bed and settled in the less roomy ambulance.
She forced her temper to calm down and spoke with an even voice.

Swara : I came to ask you if you could persuade your mother to stay for a day more. She’ll listen to you. But I see that was wrong. I cannot deny your treatment. Please go home and get well. I will stay here for news about my brother.

She withdrew his hand from his. She hoped that he would look beyond his own pain to see hers and redeem himself somewhat in her eyes. But all he did was look beyond her shoulder.
But all he did was look at her disappointed.
Rohan : You have proved that I don’t matter more than your brother. That I rank lesser than your family? I was going to ask you to be my wife. I wanted to talk to Shivaay once I returned. But you are too stubborn. It’s not good in a woman.
Sanskaar : Excuse me!
Swara turned to look at Sanskaar who looked at Rohan with an expression that could be part shock, part amusement and part rage.

Rohan : Thank you Mr Maheshwari, for telling my mother about my condition yesterday. It was very helpful of you. She would have worried endlessly if not. I don’t think she’d have ever left Srinagar if I’d not been found. She loves me that much.
Sanskaar (softly) : How do you expect Miss Oberoi not to stay here then? Her brother is still missing. You wanted her to wait for you forever, Is it not? How do you expect her to not wait for her own brother then?

The Singhania family including the rest, who had come out by now, were silenced at his words. Swara looked at him and shot him a grateful look.
Reshmi broke the silence by stepping forward and hugging Swara.
Reshmi : Be careful, Swara! I hope Rudra will be found, safe and sound. (whispering) I hope I can be as brave as you. Thank you for being my friend.

Swara nodded and muttered her goodbyes to the rest of the Singhanias but it didn’t really matter anymore. As far as they were concerened, She was lesser than dirt.
Mrs Singhania could not resist one last retort.
Mrs Singhania : Swara! Once I reach Kolkata, I will inform your brother about your bad behaviour. You will not be safe here. I assure you that.

Sanskaar : Don’t worry about that, Mrs Singhania! I will personally take care of Miss Oberoi’s safety. She willbe my responsibility. One, that you seem to have forgotten yourself.
Swara allowed herself a small smile at that, but then turned around not wanting to see the family anymore. Life had suddenly become very tiresome indeed. She was almost blind with anxiety over Rudra, yet the people she had thought cared for her treated her as if she were a stubborn, willful, disobedient girl for wanting to find him. And the man who less than a week ago had declared such extravagant love for her expected her to put him before all other loves—even her love for her own family.
She would have given anything in the world at that moment to have seen Shivaay striding toward her—or Om or Ragini. Or Rudra.
Rudra was dead. He must be.

He could not be dead.
Mr Maheshwari had come up beside Swara and offered his arm without a word.
No, she was not quite alone, she thought, pulling herself together again. She still had this friend. And Mrs Raichand would welcome her. The wounded men needed her. And even besides all those facts she was Swara Singh Oberoi. She lifted her chin and unconsciously lengthened her stride as she took his arm.

Rudra had always predicted that she would out-Oberoi the Oberois one day. It seemed that he had been right all along. She was twenty years old and striding along the street of a unfamiliar city on the arm of a gentleman she scarcely knew, having just defied the will of the chaperone to whose care Shivaay had entrusted her.
But Rudra was still here too. Today he would come, and tomorrow he would take her home himself.
He could not be dead.
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