Hello everyone,

This is not an update. This is a note regarding the headscarf that Manasvi uses and her reasons to do so.

Right from the beginning of this story, I have written that Manasvi uses a headscarf. A lot of people asked me why she does it. She does it mainly because she is used to do it. It has become a habit for her.

In no way, she is trying to comment on other women who do it due to personal or cultural choices.

We need to understand that we are talking about Manasvi here. Headscarf was not a choice for her. She never chose it. She was ‘told’ to do it because her mother wanted her to stay ‘merged’ in the crowd. She was given the reason to do so which Manasvi accepted.
My purpose of writing it is to show that a lot of people do a lot of things ONLY to blend it. Choices are luxuries. Manasvi never had a luxury of making a choice.

Manasvi’s mother used it only to look similar to other women around her. And not be spotted differently, especially by men.

Also, when she talks of male eye and safety, she knows that a woman is not safe even with head covered or fully clothed. Manasvi is not naive. She is a journalist and has been through it several times in her life as she lives alone. She basically doesn’t even know why she does it. It’s like many other things that her mother said and she continued. And now she feels safe with it because she is confident that she is doing things right as per her mother’s wishes.

Also, when Anshuman asks her to remove it, he maintains it that the choice will always be hers, but she should think about it.

Hope I have clarified it in context with my story and characters.

Thank you. Take care all of you. Stay blessed 💖💖

“Because… I’m married to my fate, already.”

“So I am! Period. End of discussion!”

…………………………………

Miffed, she stopped speaking after this. She unlocked the door and entered inside her room, while he stayed at the entrance. Unsure and awkward.
She turned around and opened the door wide for him, shrugging as a matter-of-fact, as if it was natural for him to follow. There was nothing more to think and discuss. She tilted her neck and subtly moved her chin to ask him about what he was thinking.

He shook his head, but didn’t reply to her and walked inside, looking around the small but clean and neatly arranged room. It was so immaculately clean that it appeared as if she hadn’t used it. Neatly arranged white bedlinen, pillows and cushions set by the headrest, 2 single sofas and a coffee table in the corner, and one almirah. Her handbag was kept on one side of the cabinet near the television.

“Here.” She said, opening the door of the washroom, distracting him. He followed.

The washroom was an aesthetically designed tiny cubicle. She ran the tap water for him to wash away the beach sand sticking on his feet and ankles. He moved his feet under the warm water washing down the sand. So, did she.
None of them spoke anything. Their eyes were on the floor, observing the water splashing on their feet, and wet sand trickling away towards the faucet. They were standing at hardly a few inches distance from each other but it neither felt awkward nor confusing. They knew exactly what they felt for each other and were aware of the warmth they felt when they were around the other. Whether they spoke about it or not, something assured both of them that there was only one person on this planet who understood them as no one else could ever.

When enough time had passed, every fleck of sand was removed from between their toes, around ankles, and soles too, she turned off the tap and was about to make a move to go out, he stretched his hand before her and rested his palm on the wall near her shoulder, thereby blocking her way. She waited for him to remove his hand to allow her to leave but he didn’t. She didn’t dare to look at him, being aware of his sharp, piercing gaze fixed on her.

He could observe her for eternity, for as long as they stood there. Her lowered eyes shielded by the curtain of her eyelids, her long lashes fanning on her cheeks, her soft, flawless skin, tiny studs in her ears. Everything about her was understated and yet so enticing. Nothing was loud or glaring about her, yet it felt so compellingly attractive. Her persona was a reflection of her soul. No blemishes, no external frivolities could tarnish her shine.

As if on cue, she looked at him. Her eyes were congested, reddened and tired. He removed his hand from the wall to touch her cheek. She held his hand in her hand and ran her fingers over his palm, and whispered, in a low broken choking voice, “I missed you.”

Slowly, he lowered himself for a soft peck on her forehead. “I missed you, too.”

Taking one step towards him, she leaned over him and hugged him tightly, with her face buried in his chest right below his throat. He wrapped his arms around her and drew her closer, so deeply that she was nearly engulfed within his hold.

She sobbed, without moving, and complained, “I could have managed. Didn’t you trust me? I hate it that I’m responsible for every bit of the pain you’ve endured.”

He rested his chin on her head, hugging her close, “You are only responsible for every bit of peace in my heart. That’s all.”

“I will never be able to get over this.”

“We will move on. Trust me. We will do it together.” He emphasized on together and hugged her tighter. She didn’t oppose, didn’t resist or refute him. Being held by him was bliss. He was her abode. She didn’t want to disturb the harmony by any stubborn act or words. She held him as possessively as he did and stayed tucked to his chest.

After some time, pulling a towel from the overhead towel-rack, she said, “Go and dry your feet. I’ll change and come.”

“Ok.” He held the towel and walked out of the washroom, leaving her alone.

She took a moment to believe that it was real. It had happened. When she had come to Goa, not even in the weirdest of her dreams, she had imagined that Anshuman would be here with her, in this room. She kept reminding herself that it was reality. He had come all the way for her. He was not angry or upset at her. In fact, he behaved as if nothing had happened. For all that he had done for her in Afghanistan and Pakistan, he didn’t even mention any of it as great acts of generosity or benevolence. Neither did he try to take any credit for the same. Let alone blaming her for his turmoil. But that was what Anshuman was. He was always like that.
And deep in her heart, she had always known that he might be suffering somewhere. He was not someone to choose a plush, lavish lifestyle and leave everything behind. She had always feared about that. Because she knew that the image he created for himself was so not him.

After a few minutes, Manasvi changed into a cotton palazzo and tee-shirt, and walked out of the washroom into her bedroom. All lights of the room were on. Anshuman was reclining on the cushions and pillows on one side of her bed, eyes closed, and hands folded in his lap. His legs were still on the floor. It appeared that he had been sitting on the bed and reclined to take rest and fell asleep quickly.

She went near him and carefully observed him. His even breathing signified that he was sleeping soundly, and probably peacefully, too. He had told her that this was his first night in India. Just last night, he had spent almost awake, crossing the border and being interrogated by the BSF. And every night before that, for 5 months, was spent on cold hard floor of jail. This was the first proper sleep in 5 months on a comfortable bed. And first sleep where he was not suffering anxiety of any kind.

Her heart tore apart when she noticed in full light how tired and worn-off he appeared. Apart from a good amount of weight lost, his hair had grown slightly and were ruffled due to lack of care. His face was deeply tanned. He had a well grown moustache and a week-old beard. The skin of his hands was roughened. Though his messy look made him appear more attractive than he already was. It suited him so much that she blushed when she noticed that she was staring at him unabashedly. The reminder, that he had kissed her twice, made her blush more.

She bent down and held his legs to slowly lift them up and rest them straight on the bed. He was not disturbed as his sleep was too deep to be shaken away by her delicate touch. He was sleeping well for the first time in months. She spread a duvet over him, switched off the lights, left a small bedside lamp on, and without making any evident noise or movement, she slowly slipped inside the duvet beside him. She lay her head on the pillow, continuously observing him, and then, impulsively, she rested her hand on his hand to hold him.

She had to make sure he was really there.

……………………………

In the wee hours of the morning, around 4:00 am, she shuddered in her sleep. Her nightmares would make frequent appearance every now and then, scaring her in her sleep.

He was woken up with her movement. Surprised to find her near him, shivering in sleep beside him, with lights switched off, it took him only a few seconds to realize that he had unknowingly fallen asleep last night. Even in the dim glow of the bedside lamp, he could figure out the frown on her face, sweat-beads laced on her forehead, pressed lips, and heavy breaths due to the scary dream. He had been suffering nightmares too. He could guess what she was going through.

The next moment, he curled his arm around her and drew her towards him. She snuggled close to him. His masculine smell and his arms around her made her aware of his presence. She never slept so soundly that she didn’t perceive movements around her. She sighed and opened her eyes. He had been watching her sleep. She shifted closer and rested her head on his shoulder. He made space for her to adjust.
They looked at each other for a long time, adoringly, speechlessly, but completely at ease. The awkwardness between then was diminishing with every passing moment. Right now, it felt like they were where they were supposed to be, where they belonged. He cleared her hair away from her face. She blushed. The fact that his foot was over hers when he turned towards her, added to the blush.

He pulled away the scrunchie from her long hair, letting them loose. She had no idea how to deal with this. She tried to move, but there was no way to go. She couldn’t turn away from him. She couldn’t get up. So, the only option left was to stay still. He touched her soft, silky, straight hair, and curled a wisp around his index finger.

“Your hair is so beautiful. Why do you keep them covered?” He asked.

“I think, I have told you before.” She remembered telling him about it when they were in Afghanistan camp.

He twisted his lips and nodded, “I don’t remember.”

“Okay. I’ll tell you. I wear a head scarf because my Ma used to wear it all the time. She was from a small, rural area near Karachi and spent her entire life there. After marriage with my Papa, she came to Kabul and there, everyone wore hijab. After my father’s death, we shifted to Karachi and lived as refugees, trying to attract as less attention as possible. So, practically everywhere we went, Ma insisted that we wear it to merge in the crowd. She was so used to it. She never removed it until the last day of her death. It became a habit for her, and then for me. When we came to India, she insisted that we should continue here as well. Men won’t look at us if we did.”

He listened patiently at her theory, and replied, “I understand about Karachi and Kabul, because you were in a vulnerable, uncertain position there. And they say, when in Rome, do as Romans do. So, it’s a good idea to blend in. But here, you don’t need to wear it.”
“I know. But I’m just used to it, now, I guess. It makes me feel safe. I don’t even think before wearing it…”
He interrupted her, “Then, you should start thinking now. The decision will always be yours, but I’d love it if you step outside the shackles of our past. Let everything that belonged to the past stay there. Let go of everything that reminds us of what we have gone through.”

“I’ll think about it,” She nodded, and then she took a deep breath, before she said, “You know what… I want to tell you something.”

“What?” He whispered, taking her hand in his own, lovingly stroking her palm with his thumb. The hollow of her palm was soft like a baby’s. It tickled her but she didn’t move her hand away. She loved the attention showered on her, for the first time in her life.

Like a kid, her eyes twinkled, and she sported a wide grin when she informed him, “I’ve completed all paperwork. I’ve surrendered the Afghanistan citizenship and I have an Indian passport now.”

The spark in her voice was evident as each word was spoken with an added zing. She was elated because ‘this’ was a big deal for her. She had spent eight years in a hope that one day she will get the citizenship of the country of her ancestors. The country which her grandparents and father belonged to. The country where she would get every valid constitutional right that she was entitled to, as a woman, and as a native citizen. Where she would be respected and would get a chance to work, learn, and earn a decent living without any bias. She had hoped to get valid documents without being dependent on Anshuman or anyone else. She had that now. She belonged to India now.

“Wow!” He smiled, “Finally.”

“Yes. Finally. All because of you.”

“Stop giving me credit for everything. You would have managed any way. I just happened to be there.”

“Stop refusing credit for everything.” She replied in the same tone as him.

“On one condition…” He found a perfect opportunity to corner her and he was not going to leave it in any case.

“What?” She widened her eyes, looking at him hopefully.

“You will stop blaming yourself for everything.”

………………………………….

Thank you everyone,

For all the wishes and love, I’m deeply grateful. I’m sorry, I didn’t reply to anyone as I have been packing and shifting stuff. Not active on any social media, either.
I’m temporarily shifting to Bikaner for a few months. The process is still on, but I’m in a better space currently as I have some major work done. Rest will slowly find its place.
The love and trust you have bestowed on this story leaves me in awe. It’s not an easy story and the way you all have kept patience until now is commendable. Leaves me speechless.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart 💖💖💖

Love you all

M.

……………………………………

“Forgiving you is easy. But how will I forgive myself?”

He knew how low she was feeling, how she was struggling with herself in agony, how she was unable to get over the betrayal she had received from him. He knew he was the reason for her pain but this pain was inevitable. He couldn’t have let her ruin herself.
She didn’t speak anything for some time. He didn’t speak either. She bit her lower lip and her brows were puckered. Her fingers found a chipping cuticle at the side of her left thumb. She scratched it with the nail of her right index finger. He noticed everything. The pained look on her face, her right finger nail pulling the damaged cuticle at her left thumb causing her more pain. He waited for a few seconds and when she didn’t stop, he stretched his hand and held her right hand firmly to stop her.

She tried to pull her hand away, but he didn’t leave it. In fact, his hold became stronger with her pull. She jerked away his hand yet again to free her hand. And once again, he didn’t relent. He was too strong for her, and his grip was much firmer than her efforts.

She heaved a desperate sigh, with an angry whisper. “Leave me.”
He didn’t release her. Instead, he chided her in a firm tone, “Stop doing it.”

She waited for a second, and then, she brusquely jerked her hand from his hold. He left her. She stood up from the chair, and spoke in a dejected tone, “I’m not talking to you. Please leave me alone.”

Leaving him stunned, and speechless, she turned around and walked away barefoot towards the cold sand, and the ocean making waves splashing on the shore. From here, the darkness engulfed the beach for as far as eyes could see. He stared at her helplessly, waiting for her to stop or look back at him. She didn’t. Did she really walk away? He couldn’t believe it that she was so angry that she didn’t want to talk to him.

He waited for a few seconds, and when she was sufficiently far, he couldn’t take it any more. He took off his shoes too, and folded his denims at his ankles, to avoid the sand and water soiling it. When he ran towards her, his long strides took only a few seconds to cover the distance and reach her. She had been walking away in the darkness, with only soft moonlight falling on her face and reflecting off the water in the ocean.

“Manasvi,” He called her from behind, “Wait!”

She didn’t respond to his call. She had listened to him very clearly but she didn’t stop. Wearing denim capri pants, folded at her calves, and white cotton kurti, with a scarf loosely wrapped around her head and neck, she looked slightly different from the salwar clad female he had seen in Kabul. She looked cute from behind – angry, and upset – lost in the jungle of cruel world. He wished he could crush her in his arms to squeeze away all of her pain out of her. As a surgeon, and an armyman, he had known only one technique – to cut off the part that didn’t heal. To squeeze away all toxins. Alas! This wasn’t feasible with emotions. They were more complicated than gangrene.

She kept walking away. He took two more steps, almost a short sprint towards her, and held her elbow to stop her. She was forced to stop walking. With a single jerk of his hand on her elbow, he turned her to face him, “Stop, I said.”

She was now facing him. He was zapped to see her face wet with tears streaming down her cheeks, lips tormenting each other as if trying to avoid making a show of her emotions, but failing eventually, and her entire body shivering.
Dr. Anshuman Shekhawat never knew how the tough core inside him could melt with one vulnerable look on Manasvi Rathore’s face. He had handled the most difficult situations in his life but every time he was with her, he was stirred profoundly, unable to handle the turn of events. She had a knack of leaving him lost and speechless. Once again, she was successful in turning his heart into a jelly.

He didn’t know how to deal with this. She had been tearing apart. He gathered her close in his arms and cupped her face with his one hand, wiping away her tears with his thumb. She clutched the lapels of his shirt to avoid buckling at her knees. The cold breeze stroking them, the waves touching their feet, and the wet sand slipping away from under their feet made them step closer. He touched her forehead with his forehead and waited for her to say something or to stop crying. She didn’t.
Slowly, he bent ahead taking both his hands behind her, drawing her closer with this. He moved his nose over her cheek, over her nose, reaching further ahead. She sighed in anticipation but she neither moved away nor resisted him. He could feel her sigh on his jawline. She shuddered like a meek kitten, eyes closed and breath caught in her lungs. She wished she could tell him that they should talk first. He had waited for this moment for long, and he wasn’t going to allow any of them to spoil it. She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could say something, he kissed her.

His lips lovingly and carefully caressed the softness under them. She was taken aback, confused at first, but relieved eventually that he had come all the way to meet her and was not confused about what he felt for her. His kiss spoke everything that he didn’t. That he had always felt the same for her as she did. That he wasn’t avoiding her or had left her for a brighter future. He had left her for her safety.
She could feel her heart breaking. How many times was he going to make her fall in love with him? How was she going to love him more than she already did?
She kissed him back, turning a soft peck more passionate than any of them had ever imagined. They had never shared a lot of words between them. Their relationship was more about assuming, and understanding, and hoping. But now, they knew they didn’t need words to help them either. Their hearts were well versed with what they felt about each other.

After a long blissful moment, she separated from him. He rested his forehead on her forehead, once again, and observed her.
“I’m so.. so sorry.” She whispered.
“Don’t torture yourself. I would have done the same if I was in your place. I would have left that place if you wanted me to do it. And if you were in my place, you would have done the same to send me away. That was the only solution I could think of.”

She murmured between her tears and hiccups, and kept speaking, “This is so difficult to handle…I’m not able to explain… It’s so painful…how will I live with this… I’m sorry… I let you down… I could have done something… But I walked away…”

“Stop it.” He chided her and impulsively kissed her again. For a moment, she tried to break away but her resolves didn’t stay for long. She leaned into him, kissing him more, wishing for this moment to stay forever.
She hoped she wasn’t dreaming.  She knew she wasn’t dreaming, though. A dream can’t be this beautiful. Her dreams had always been scary and terrifying. She had never dared to imagine something so mesmerizing even in her dreams.
It had to be reality.

……………………………

They lay on the clean beach sand, watching the clear starry sky, and the full moon shining high up above them, talking about all they could, all they remembered, all they thought that the other needed to know.

He let his hand move on the sand between them, to find her hand, to hold it, subtly unfolding her fingers to intertwine his fingers with hers. She stopped speaking when he did that, and turned her face to look at him. He shrugged. She nodded, and started speaking again.

Their conversations comprised of fewer words, interspersed with long silences. They quietly observed the night sky, resumed talking in bits of sentences and short phrases. None of them was a great conversationalist. Yet, communication came easy to them, only when they were with each other. Just like the times, when they were in the Afghanistan camp, and spent hours facing the cliff.

The only difference was that their hands were entwined, this time.

He told her about the life in jail, the kind jailer, the medical work he did, Junaid Khan, and how his team had helped him escape. He shared his thoughts about his life and experiences in PBB. His life had come a full circle after he had found a closure about his parents in Afghanistan. And now that he had met her again, all his wishes were fulfilled. There were no turbulences in his mind and heart anymore.

She told him about people she met in Afghanistan, his nanny, his parents’ nursing home, Liz and her team, how she had spent past 5 months in The Insight, the parts of her work that she loved to do, and how Kajal had this confusion that she could be even remotely interested in getting married to Krish.

“In a way, I should be thankful to her. I would have waited for you to finish your work and come back, but when she said that you are on a holiday in Goa with Krish, and have agreed to marry him, I couldn’t wait to talk to you. I couldn’t stop myself from coming here and finding you anyhow.”

She turned her face from the sky to him, and asked, “Were you worried?”

“Yes. I was scared. And very nervous.” He confessed in a deep, throaty baritone, “Despite asking you to go away and move on, I couldn’t let go of you.”

She turned away again, to look at the stars, and replied, “Krish is a good friend of mine. But he can never take your place. No one can.”

He smiled. “I feel honoured.”

A sinking sensation overcame her as she replied in a drained, tired voice, “You should feel suffocated, instead… and not honoured. You have been Godsent for me. You did everything you could do, and never left me alone. You’ve given me a new life every time I was in trouble. For so many times, that I can’t begin to count. But I have given you nothing but problems, pain, bondage of marriage at an early age, and now, even jail. I’m a bad omen for you.”

“Stop saying that.” He was angry this time. He hated it when she said anything like that. She had no idea what she meant to him. His life revolved around her. He could never tell her how he drew his strength from her, how his peace lay in her smiles, how his sanity resided in her presence. If she was fine, he was fine too. If she was happy, he felt relieved and gained a new energy to fight the world. She didn’t know what she was to him.

“That’s the truth. It won’t change even if you shout to dismiss it.” She spoke in a low, pained voice. She sat back on the sand and hugged herself, rubbing her arm with the palm of her hand, as if warding off the chill of the cool breeze.

He sat back too. And said, “I wish, I could explain to you how you give me peace and courage… you don’t…”

She interrupted him with her hand on his arm, “Don’t say anything to make me feel good. I’m fine.”
“I’m not…” He started speaking again, but she stopped him again.
“I’m feeling cold. I need to go inside.” She stood up, and started walking.

“Come on, ya! Why aren’t you letting me speak?” He dusted himself to follow her.
“Because you are being nice to a girl who, you think, is living in self-pity. But I’m not living in any pity or craving for sympathy. I am genuinely concerned. I’m not good for your stable life. Disturbances in my life disrupt you too. You need someone who is kind and caring, and who brings love and peace in your life. Not someone who blows away all calmness and rocks your life for worse.”

Walking behind her, he spread his hands in the air, “How can you decide what I want or need in my life? Let that be my decision. Talk about yourself.”

She stopped walking, faced him, and asked, “Talk about what?”

He folded his hands across his chest and looking at her pointedly, he asked, “Can we leave behind everything that happened in the past and walk ahead? From here, from this day, this moment, do we belong together?”

She sighed, and walked back to stand near him. Raising her chin to look at him, in agony dripping from her poignant deep eyes, and in a teary voice, she replied, “You are too good, Dr. Shekhawat. Too good for me. I don’t deserve you.”

His jaw tightened, as every crease on his face hardened. He nodded, and spoke on a clenched jaw, one word at a time, “Fine. I’ll go away. But I need to see you safe and content. So, please get engaged to someone you think you deserve. And I promise I won’t disturb you again.”

Her face was drawn when he said that. Her eyes narrowed as she stammered, in a whisper, “You have lost your mind…”

She walked away, with him following her. She didn’t speak for some time until they reached the entrance of the hotel. He picked up his shoes and bag from the chair and followed her, saying, “What happened? Just now, you said that you don’t deserve me. Let’s find a substitute then.”

“I also said that no one can take your place in my life.” She spoke as she crossed the corridor towards her room.

He followed, trying to argue with her, “Oh, really? Let me tell you that you can’t keep both sides of the coin. You can either be with me or push me away. You can’t do both.”

“Why not? You did exactly that.” She sharply retorted, fetching the key from her pocket and opening the door.

He held her wrist and stopped her. Pulling her towards him, he stared at her eyes straight, and asked in a furious voice, “So, is this revenge?”

“No. This is all I have to offer you. I will not bow down to any of your stupid ideas.”

“You find it stupid only because I challenged you. You don’t want to live with me. But you don’t want anyone else in your life, either.”

“I don’t want to be with anyone else. I can’t think of anyone else…because…”

“Because?”

“Because… I’m married to my fate, already.”

“So I am! Period. End of discussion!”

…………………………………

Dear lovely people,

Hope you are all doing fine. My wishes and love for all of you 💖💖💖

I am posting this update late because I was logged out of my WordPress account and couldn’t login by any means. The password was correct and every other step was fine, but I think, there was a technical glitch. I tried until late at night but when I couldn’t, I slept. Doing it now.

Secondly, I haven’t replied to anyone on last part as I have a tight schedule these days. I am shifting from one city to another. Shifting both my clinic and home. So, it takes a lot of my time. For several reasons like these, Spark & Spice is delayed too. I had informed earlier but still people are messaging me and asking me about it. So, to reiterate again, I will announce the next release date of Spark and Spice soon.

Thirdly, this update is a long one, around the size of two updates 😃 As I said that I am packing and shifting. So, I’ll be in a new city on Monday. So, I won’t be updating. Next update will now be on Next Thursday.

Take care,

Lots of love 🤗🤗🥰🥰

……………………………….

Anshuman reached the specified hotel and inquired about Manasvi.
As it was around 11:30 pm already, he was not sure if she had slept already or if the hotel
employees will tell him about her.

But he couldn’t wait until morning. He had to see her right then. Right at that moment.
However, since she didn’t have her phone with her, it was going to be difficult.
As expected, the staff refuse to share the details as she was a single woman and was
travelling with a group of journalists. It was a safety issue for the hotel to take care of. They
told him that they couldn’t share the details of guests staying with them.

Anshuman clicked his tongue and tapped his fingers at the reception desk. Patience being his
strongest virtue, once, the growing fuzziness in his heart was something difficult to deal with
at this moment.
He had never felt like this before – Before Manasvi, that is.
Ever since she had come close to him, in the past few months, the frequent rise and fall of
weird queasy feelings inside his chest had become an everyday thing for him. And now, that
she was hardly a few steps away from him, his patience was being tested to its limits. He
didn’t know how … but he had to meet her.

“Okay, you can’t tell me about her. I understand. But can you do me a favour, please? Can
you tell ‘her’ that Anshuman is here to meet her?” He asked, hopefully.
“Sorry, sir! It’s 11:30 pm. We can’t disturb guests at this hour of the night. There are no
instructions from her that she is expecting you.”
“No, she is not expecting me. She doesn’t know. She doesn’t have her phone with her.”
Anshuman didn’t know how else to convince the hotel staff to tell him about Manasvi. The
guy simply shrugged refusing to comply. Anshuman took a deep breath, distress spreading on
his face very clearly, and growing gradually with every moment.

While he was constantly urging the receptionist to help him, another guy from the staff came
inside the lobby and tried to understand the issue. Then he said to Anshuman, “Sir, one of the
female reporters from The Insight is in the backyards. I’m coming from there. She is there
outside near the private beach of the hotel. You can go and talk to her. I think she might be
Ms. Manasvi Rathore. If not, you can ask her to help you. Because we are officially unable to
do anything.”

Anshuman sighed in relief and thanked him before rushing towards the beach area. He
decided to request the reporter to help him connect to Manasvi or Krish, if she was someone
else from The Insight.

But deep inside his heart, he knew that she was Manasvi.
She had to be Manasvi. A very strong hunch told him.

……………………………

Krish had sensed that Manasvi was feeling low so he tried to cheer her up and cracked a few
jokes too. But Manasvi remained distracted. Her eyes on the ocean, hands folded on her lap,
and mind lost in nothingness. She tried to appear cordial, listened to Krish, even smiled on
his jokes but was largely disinterested in any conversation.

“You don’t seem to be listening to me… I just cracked a joke,” Krish said.
“Hmm?” Manasvi was jolted out of her thoughts. She had been observing the moonlight
tearing through the darkness of the night sky, reflecting off the waves in the ocean in ripples.
Immediately, she was apologetic, “I’m so sorry, Krish! I might have laughed, didn’t I?”
He smirked, “You are so lost, you know. I was telling about my dead grandma. Are you sure
you laughed?”
Manasvi glared at him angrily. “Are you pulling my leg?”
Krish rolled his eyes, “No! You are pulling my leg. I came all the way to share the joy of my
gracious company with you. But someone is not even paying attention to me.”

Manasvi shrugged, citing helplessness. She was clearly not interested.
Krish said, “I guess you prefer staying alone. So, why am I hitting my head with a wall? I’ll
go and sleep instead of wasting time, here.”

Manasvi grinned. She had formed a warm bond with Krish in all these months of working
together. They could now say anything to each other without being offended or upset. They
knew what the other wanted and how they felt. This mutual respect of space was the best
thing about them. She didn’t need to pretend anymore that she wanted to be alone, without
offending him. And he could tell her that he wanted to go to sleep instead of wasting time
with her. Maybe that’s how best friends are, Manasvi thought.
She felt blessed for having a friend like Krish in her life.

Krish smiled, “You are laughing. Great! So, will you be fine if I leave you alone here?”
“I’ll be glad.” Manasvi said, relieved.
Krish stood up, “Alright! I won’t waste more of your time. Good night. And try to sleep
early. We have to be there in the seminar on time in the morning.”
“I will.” She assured him.

Krish left her at the private beach of the hotel located on the backside. It was a long, clean
stretch of beach – the sand and the ocean – with no interference from the outside world.
Usually, it was busy during early morning and evening hours, flooded by the residents of the
hotel. At night, it became empty and deserted as guests retired to sleep after a tiring day.
Lined by chairs and recliners at a distant interval, the entire stretch had poles at a regular
intervals, illuminating the space in soft yellow glow from the lamps from the poles. Yet
retaining its darkness, solitude, and calmness intact.

Manasvi had loved the ambience immediately. Since it was a private area and safely manned
by guards at the entry and exit, she had decided to spend some time here. She couldn’t sleep.
There was so much running around in her mind. And she was restless today.
Too restless for an average day. Maybe because she didn’t have her phone, she wondered.

Krish turned around before leaving the area and called from behind, “Sure, you don’t want to
come?”
Manasvi didn’t reply to him and simply nodded to refuse.

Anshuman couldn’t believe his luck when he saw Krish leaving the beach area entering the
corridor and taking the first turn to the left towards his room. Krish didn’t notice him and left
the corridor in a jiffy. Anshuman took quick steps towards him but first decided to go
towards the backside of the hotel instead of following Krish.

At the end of the corridor there was a wide space that opened towards the beach. He stood on
the concrete floor five steps above the sand, spreading outwards from there, towards the
beach and merging with water far off, glowing yellow in the light from the lamps. The cool
breeze from the ocean touched his face when he scanned the area to search for the girl he had
come for.

She was sitting far, on one of the chairs immersed in darkness, facing the ocean. Silently.
Calmly.
Anshuman could feel his heartbeat rising every second as he took slow steps towards
Manasvi. He had waited for almost an eternity to meet her, to see her, to be with her. And
now that she was here, he didn’t know what to say or do.

Will she be pleased to see me? Will she be annoyed? Disappointed?
Does she hate me? Has she moved on? It has been 5 long months. We haven’t been in touch.
She might have been hating me for sending her away, and moving to Scotland, as I had told
her.

Was she really getting married to Krish? His mother had said so clearly that they were
together and had agreed to the marriage. Is that why Krish was with her so late at night?
Nah! They work together. And they are covering the event together. It isn’t big deal to sit and
talk in such a peaceful ambience. It needn’t be love.

But didn’t his mother say that they have both agreed for marriage and taking a holiday at
Goa? Why do I hope for her to be waiting for me after 5 months without any hope of meeting
again, when I clearly told her that I don’t want to see her again? These might have been 5
long months of pure torture when she must have cursed me for every waking moment for
deserting her and leaving her alone.

What’s wrong if she decides to build a future for her?
I will accept it if she says it herself and will leave her alone. I’ll see her once, talk to her for
the last time if she has taken a decision and will not trouble her. But I can’t leave without
talking to her.

He took a deep breath and kept walking on the sand. Manasvi was focused on the waves
splashing on the wet sand when she heard footsteps behind her. Krish had just left and she
thought he had come back to convince her to go to sleep early. She turned around and stood
up, to say, “Krish, please…”

But she couldn’t continue further. For her voice was stuck in her throat as her breaths were
caught in her chest. She could neither speak nor breathe. She wasn’t sure if her heart was
beating correctly. Her eyes were flared and her brain nearly frozen. No thoughts. No words.
No feelings for a moment. Nothing.

Was it a dream?
Was he Anshuman? Here? Right before her? Had she started hallucinating? Was she such a
nutcase that she had started visualizing him around her?

When he moved closer, she noticed a deep forlorn look in his eyes – a look that she couldn’t
have missed in any case – a look of longing. A distinct sparkle in his eyes, as he reached near
her. A subtle smile on seeing her. Pressing of lips, revealing how he was unable to hold his
emotions.
He was indeed there! Shocked out of her wits, she stood rooted to the ground. Awestruck and
dumbfounded.

So, he was free after all. A deep pang hit her when it appeared that he was free all this while
but didn’t care to meet her or talk to her, while she was pining for him every single moment.
She hadn’t heard anything in news that he was being released by the govt. of Pakistan. Nor
did anyone from Shekhawat family, Madhu or Preksha talked to her about him.

Was he really in Scotland, like he had said? Of course! That is what he had said. And since
Madhu and Preksha didn’t know about it, he was true in saying that he wanted to go away
from his past, or anything that reminded him of his older days.

Then why was he here today? To get the divorce papers that she hadn’t sent until now?

Manasvi could feel her heart sinking when she realized that though they had never been
together even for once in these eight years of their marriage, it was painful on another level to
be divorced and not remain connected to him in anyway.

It was too difficult to handle. Still, she was more than happy that he was free, and not in any
jail because of her. That was enough of a consolation for her to be happy for him.

Anshuman was right before her by this time, looking at her as if she was the center of his
Universe. As if nothing mattered to him more than her. His look confused her. Why was he
looking at her like this? She wondered. If he was here for divorce papers, why his eyes spoke
of something completely opposite. As if they had been searching for her since eternity.
He looked drained, exhausted, and devastated. His lips were dried. And his hair, slightly
grown, were dry and ruffled. He didn’t look fresh. He looked as if he hadn’t slept well in
ages…

Or…in 5 months??? She speculated and hated the inference. She hated to believe what she
was thinking could be true. She hated that he didn’t look like he was coming from Scotland.
He looked as if he had lost almost 10 kgs weight, had been sad for long that his smile was
forced, looked distressed, and grossly tanned.

God!! Was he in Pakistan, all this while???

Bitterness spread inside her mouth, burning her throat, and stabbing her heart. She
desperately hoped that it wasn’t true. She would never forgive herself if she had believed his
lie and come back from Afghanistan leaving him behind to rot in a Pak jail.

“Hey!” he awkwardly removed his small backpack from his shoulder to put it down,
on the sand. Ecstatic on seeing her before him, yet not really sure what he should say to her.
“Hi…” She nervously stammered, awkward herself, “You… you are…”

He wished he could pull her close to him and hug her tightly for a long, long time,
but his hands fiddled at the strap of the bag he had been holding.
He shrugged, “I tried to call you so many times. But your phone was unreachable. You’ve left it at Krish’s home.”

She wished she could slip inside the realm of his arms, to hold him forever, and break down
to cry for the entire night. But she nodded, and replied in a low murmur, “I know! I dropped
it in a rush. But who told you?”
“I called Krish… his mom picked up the phone and said that you were here…” Anshuman
said.

Manasvi was quiet after this. She was definitely thrilled to see him breathing free space in his motherland,
though both of them had paid a heavy price for this. She was fooled big time.
She folded her hands across her chest, getting angry and upset. She had crestfallen in her own eyes
and she didn’t know if she could redeem herself ever again.
It was unbearable to believe that she had failed him.

But… Maybe she was wrong. Maybe he was indeed in Scotland and happy without her.
Suddenly, the prospect of him being away and content without her seemed more perfect and
calming than the thought of him stuck in a jail in Pakistan because of her while she had
comfortably left him to his turmoil. It was becoming painfully agonizing.

“Anshuman, who helped you cross the border?” She asked directly. She was a journalist and
very smart at her work. She had been through all channels between the three countries. She
knew that if there was no loud noise of his release, he had crossed the border illegally. So,
she took a chance of asking straight.
If he was in Scotland, he would tell her straightaway that he was coming from there. Or else
he will be telling the truth impulsively.

This time, he was less cautious. Less than her. He didn’t realise when impulsively, he replied,
“Junaid Khan and his team.”
She stammered, “Didn’t you say that … you are going to Scotland… and asked me to leave you
and forget you? You lied to me?”

Anshuman huffed and left his bag, resting his hands on his waist this time, turning around for
fresh air. Of course, he wasn’t going to lie to her. He had already decided on the way here that he was going to tell
her the truth. But the way she had caught him suddenly, left him with no words to defend
himself.

He sighed, “Listen, Manasvi…”
She squeezed her eyes narrow and spoke in a sudden explosive, fiery burst of words,
snapping at him, angrily, and dejectedly. So fiercely that he was taken aback.
“Who do you think you are? A saint?? And who I am?? A charity case?? That whenever you
feel like, you will stand tall and bury me under your favours and sacrifices?”

“Listen…I’m…” He started speaking, fumbling with words, shocked at the way she fired at
him. He was certainly not expecting this from her. He had expected her to be upset and sad,
maybe for a while, and he had hoped to pacify her. But she was far from pacification.
She spat fire in her words, “Dr. Anshuman Shekhawat, I can’t begin to tell you how I hate
myself at this moment. All because of you. I have fallen in my own eyes. So easily, I believed
you! All my life, I respected you, almost worshipped you, prayed for you because of
everything you did for me, hoping that someday… maybe someday, I’ll get a chance to be useful to you.
And once… just once… in my life, I got an opportunity to do something for you, but I
let it slip away? I will neither forgive you for this nor myself… Goddd!!! I’m feeling so so so
low…and so angry on you…”

He walked ahead and held her arms, right below her shoulders, and lowering slightly to her
level, he said, “Sit down calmly, and think, why I did that. I had no other option…”
Tears strained her cheeks, as she removed his hands from her shoulders by inching away
from him and shrugging off, frowning in pain, “Yeah, I know. Such a weak damsel-in-
distress, you think, I am. I could have done nothing for you. I would have fallen in some
trouble because I don’t know how to manage myself. You thought I was hopeless and weak.
And I always need you to save me at a crucial moment. Who I am? Nobody.”

He left a deep breath, and spoke seriously, “I’ve never thought about you like that.”
“Of course, you did. That is why you lied to me. You didn’t want me to do anything for you
because you never believed that I could pull it off. And look at me, I accepted it and proved to
be the baby you thought I was. Someone speaks a lie and I believe every word of it, to come
back to India and start living my life. Great!!! Do you even know how cheap I feel at this time?? No,
you can’t. At least you could have allowed me the satisfaction of trying to do something. No.
You are too full of yourself to even allow someone to help you.”

He sighed deeply. Her anger was justified. And she had every right to lose her cool at his
moment. Her anger at being left clueless about him had overridden her happiness that he was
finally free.
But he was not angry. He loved this side of Manasvi. On normal days, she had been this docile,
simple girl, who hardly ever spoke much before him. She was always in awe of him, just as
he was. Their mutual respect, admiration, and acceptance of each other had lived its life, long
back. They had stayed at a decent distance from each other, staying reasonably nice to each
other.
But today, the way she fought with him was one step ahead in their relationship. She had
accused him, complained, and was so angry at being sidelined, the way close ones do.
The way she had never been before. This was not the same Manasvi he had met a year ago, at Preksha’s engagement,
or in Afghanistan, or even few months ago, when he was captured.

This Manasvi was very angry because he had excluded her from his life. And he loved how
she was fighting with him because she wasn’t a part of his efforts for survival and release. He
loved her blames, and claims. Everything.

He calmly sat down on the chair and rested his leg on his other leg, and looked at her as if
waiting for her to finish. She spread her hands in air, standing before him, deeply mystified.
She was flabbergasted at how he had tricked her and was still so nonchalant about it.

For him – it was a right moment to ask about Krish, he thought. Already they were fighting. A
bit more won’t harm.
Though he knew, by now, about what her reply would be. If she would have been marrying Krish, she
couldn’t be fighting with him ferociously. Her eyes, her words, her demeanour said that
she was not even thinking about anyone else. Not today. Not anytime, in the past.

Still, conversations and discussions were better than assumptions, he believed.
While she was still chiding him about how he had been so mean to her to push her away and
thus drowning her in a guilty feeling that she will never be able to overcome for her entire
life, he asked in one straight tone.
“Are you getting married to Krish?”
“What!!!!” She stopped speaking, gasped, and nodded vigorously, “Where did that come
from?”
“Krish’s mom said that.” He replied honestly, “When I called her to ask about Krish and you,
she said that…”

Manasvi was speechless for a moment. Then she frowned, clearly annoyed at the question.
She said, in a composed but teary voice, “Dr. Shekhawat, I don’t think you remember or even care about it
but I am already married. Not divorced, yet. I don’t wear my heart on my sleeve to be so desperate
to marry a colleague I consider a good friend.”

He couldn’t hide his smile at her reply. He had to press his lips hard in order to avoid
annoying her more. But she was angrier than before. It was hard for her to believe that she
was talking to Anshuman like this. The man she had practically revered and loved, all her
life. But he deserved it. For making her look like a fool, not once but twice. So, he thought
that after he pushed her away asking her to forget him, she had chosen Krish as a life partner.

And why couldn’t she? Why was he expecting her to wait for him, when he himself had cut
her off in times of trouble?
And why had he come back? When even in future, for all the tough times ahead, he was
going to suffer alone, leaving her in a prison of her guilt?

Disturbed, nearly trembling, she sat down on a chair near him, and in a deeply pained,
saddened voice, she said, “I’m glad that you are safe and free. Trust me, I’m relieved. But
I feel guilty for every smile I had in last 5 months, every breath of free air, I breathed, every
morsel of food I had, every work I finished without any problem, once again, because of
you… and how useless, I have been to you…”

He hesitatingly stretched his hand and touched his fingers over her hand and when she didn’t
push him away, he traced the edge of her finger before holding her hand firmly in his hands.
Slowly, he said, “Don’t torture yourself with this thought. You haven’t been useless. You’ve
kept me stress-free because you were living your life. I was not worried about you. Thanks
for agreeing to leave Afghanistan.”

“But maybe Liz’s husband could have helped. Maybe I would have found some other source
to reach you and help you? Why did I just let you be on your own?? How could I do that?
What if, God forbid, you hadn’t met someone like Junaid Khan? You would have been jailed
for years. How did I forget that you went there because of me,” She sobbed softly, with a
whisper, “I don’t know how to deal with this pain.”

He smiled sadly, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb, and replied over a choking
throat, “Give yourself some time… and please forgive me.”

More tears dropped down her cheeks.

“Forgiving you will be easy. But how will I forgive myself?”

…………………………………

Manasvi’s phone remained unreachable for the entire day, making Anshuman restless.

He reached home by lunchtime and was greeted warmly by Dadi and Preksha, and some of their very close relatives. His parents hadn’t told anyone else that he had arrived because people knew that he was stuck in Pakistan and they didn’t want friends and relatives to speculate about his release, or gossip about him leading to spreading of news, and thus causing more problems for Anshuman.

Preksha had bought a new phone and sim card for him. The first number that he saved and dialled from his phone was Manasvi’s. He called almost every fifteen minutes, hoping for her to switch it on.

At tea time, the family was discussing further plan of action. Preksha’s marriage had been postponed because Anshuman was in Pakistan for past 5 months, and she had refused to get married in his absence.

“Now, that Anshuman is here, we can plan for Preksha’s wedding.” Dadi suggested, eternally worried about Preksha’s postponed wedding. Dipping her Parle G biscuit in his tea, she added, “It’s good that Tarun’s family waited for so long for us. But we shouldn’t delay it anymore.”

“But mummy, we can’t let everyone know that Anshuman is suddenly back to India. Everyone knows that we have applied for his release application at MEA. They will ask how he was freed. We can’t tell that someone helped him across the border to pass through it illegally. We will all be in deep trouble. Including Junaid Khan who helped him.” RajSingh elaborated on his opinion.

“But… what about Preksha…” Dadi asked.

Tea time in Shekhawat household was always about brainstorming. But today was different. Anshuman was here and they were all gathered for tea, asking him how he spent his days in jail, how he was treated, how were the people across the border, and what were his future plans. Dadi, as always, was worried about Preksha, who was cool herself. Not in any hurry of getting married.

“Come on, Dadi, I’m not in any hurry. Tarun and I are fine with this stretched courtship. Tarun understands and doesn’t mind.”

Anshuman had been busy with his phone, getting anxious every moment because he wasn’t able to reach Manasvi. His attention was on his phone, yet he was aware of the conversation going on around him. He moved his eyes from his phone to Preksha.

“But why did you delay it? You should have gone ahead and got married. I would have met you afterwards too.”

“Like really?” Preksha rolled his eyes, “That can never happen. You were in such a huge problem and you think I will get married? I couldn’t even think of that. All each one of us would think of and talk about, was how deep you were stuck, and how to get you freed.”

Anshuman curled his arm around his little sis and hugged her sideways. She was adorable and he loved her dearly.

His aunt arrived with a fresh bunch of pakodas and everyone was busy talking to each other when Anshuman once again tried to call Manasvi. When she was unreachable again, he was worried. Five months was a big time. He was not in touch with her. His family had reduced interaction with her on practical grounds. Because any connection with Manasvi would have circulated negative light about him. They told him about it and confessed that they were extremely guilty about it. Though they tried to talk to her once in a month to know if she was fine. But they wanted to do more. But couldn’t because they were scared and clueless about Anshuman.

Anshuman winced on realising that no one was in touch with Manasvi for past one month. Was she fine? What if… she was ill? Or met with some accident? Or facing some problem? What if she was in a trouble and needed him?

He became more restless with every passing moment. He didn’t have Krish’s number as his phone was with Junaid, and none of the numbers saved by him in his phone were with him, right now. His mom didn’t have Krish’s number either.

Anshuman searched the internet for the number of office of The Insight in Mumbai and luckily got through their reception. He asked for Manasvi, and after a painful wait period, he was informed that she was not in office on that day. She was out of office. When he asked for Krish Sahay, he was informed about the same.

Anshuman knew that Manasvi worked with Krish. Any lead from Krish would guide him about Manasvi. His dad had booked a late evening flight, at around 8:00 pm, for Mumbai. But Anshuman couldn’t wait. He had to reach Manasvi as soon as possible. It had been a long time, and he wanted to know that she was fine, taking care of herself, and doing well.

Anshuman called The Insight office again and asked if they had an alternate or emergency number of Krish. The reception lady gave him an emergency number that was given by Krish.

Anshuman dialled the number. The number belonged to Krish’s mother Kajal, as she was the only emergency contact that Krish needed to be in touch with, in case of a problem.

“Hello, this is Kajal Sahay. Krish’s mom.” Kajal spoke when Anshuman asked if the number belonged to Krish.

“Hello Aunty, may I please talk to Krish? His phone is switched off.” Anshuman said.

“Oh! I think you don’t know. Krish has gone to Goa for three days. He is covering the Achiever’s conclave. His phone is off because many biggies are speaking there, including cabinet ministers. So they are asked to switch off their phones. Krish called me before switching it off.” Kajal informed him, politely and kindly.

Anshuman heaved a sigh of relief. Maybe Manasvi was with Krish and covering the same programme. That is why her phone was off too. But her phone was off since early morning today. He had been trying all the time. He tried to confirm.

“Do you know if his associate Manasvi Rathore… err… is she with him? Her phone is off too.”

Kajal chuckled, “Oh yes, Manasvi is with him. But her phone is not off because of the conclave. It’s because she mistakenly left it at our house. They left in a hurry as they were getting late, and Manasvi dropped it here. I saw it only after they had left.”

“Ohh!” Anshuman was relieved for a bit, wondering if he should still board the flight to Mumbai. Manasvi was not there for 3 days. And her phone was not with her. What would he do in Mumbai for 3 days? Or should he go to Goa instead and surprise her? That seemed like a perfect option before Kajal spoke next.

She said, “You might have got worried when you found both their phones switched off? Are you a friend of Krish and Manasvi?”

“Umm…yeah…” Anshuman weighed words, wondering what he should say to her, when Kajal spoke further, “Do you work in their office? Do you know Manasvi too? She is such a sweet girl. I’m sure she would be a perfect life partner to Krish.”

“What!” Anshuman was not sure if he heard it right. He stammered, “Excuse me?”

“Krish didn’t tell you? This guy is so shy.” Kajal grinned and added, “Manasvi is shy too. They wouldn’t commit to getting married for quite some time. But now that they have, I’ll make sure that they get married in the next weekend itself. There is no point in delaying more as none of us wants an elaborate wedding. And what is the point in delaying once they had a holiday in Goa together… I mean, they said, it’s work, but I’m not a naïve kid… I understand. They were in such hurry… it didn’t look like work…” Kajal chuckled more, and added, “Okay, you give me your name and phone number. I’ll tell them when they come back.”

Anshuman disconnected the call. He was not sure if he really heard what he did, and whether he understood it correctly, or if it was even true.
No… no… no…
Manasvi will never do that. I know her. I know her so well.

She can’t…
His heart was unable to believe but his mind asked him – She can’t… what?? She can’t move on???

Why not???

Didn’t he ask her to move on? Didn’t he ask her to submit the divorce papers and forget him? Didn’t he tell her that he was going to Scotland and she shouldn’t think about him?
She did exactly what he had asked her to do.
Why was he offended now? Why was he expecting her to not move on?

She had believed him that he was freed, going away for a peaceful life, and had left her.

But…
His heart was still not ready to believe that the Manasvi would do this. She was not someone who would forget him so easily and move on to get married with someone else.
Someone said something about her. Why was he even believing it??
No, he should talk to Manasvi directly. If she said that she has moved on, only then he should believe it. He can’t be believing anyone’s words about Manasvi.

Anshuman paced around the hall contemplating the next move, dealing with the hundreds of thoughts rushing in and out of her mind.
He asked his dad about the ticket to Mumbai and decided to get it changed to Goa. He had to meet her. He had to see her. He had to feel her presence around him, hold her hand, look into her eyes, and know what was going in her mind.

Their bond was too deep. At least, that is what he had always thought.

……………………..

Anshuman’s ticket was rescheduled and he got it changed for Goa. He was anxious all through the journey, during the flight, and the route from Goa airport to the hotel that he had searched online where the conclave was happening. The Insight was a big news portal and the reception guys had no idea where Manasvi and Krish were. But when Anshuman asked them specifically about the Achiever’s conclave, they told him about the hotel where their team was staying.

Anshuman was nervous. He didn’t know why he was holding on to every hope of having her back when he had himself told her to go away. Maybe because he had wished for her to reach India safely. And just that. Maybe he had never wanted her to move on from him?

………………………

Post dinner, Manasvi took a long walk at the beach adjacent to the hotel they were staying at, and watched the chaotic ocean for a long time. She sat down at one of the beach chairs and raised her legs hugging them close to her.

The journey from Mumbai and then the conclave had been too tiring. Krish and her had come with a team, in the van provided by The Insight, carrying camera and other equipment like satellite connection, mic etc. They were already late, and they had picked her first, and then she had to rush to Krish’s home, asking him to hurry up. In this mess, her phone was dropped at Krish’s home.

She missed it. She had nothing to do if she didn’t have her phone. She couldn’t read news, or check random social media pings, or watch animal videos on youtube. More than everything else, she couldn’t see Anshuman’s picture saved in her phone. Something she did every night.

She missed him so much. She missed him like a person drowning in the ocean missed his breath. She missed him like the world missed the sun on a cold, rainy day. He was the sunshine she needed in her life. And the more she missed him, the more helpless she felt. The more she knew that she couldn’t meet him, the more difficult it appeared to be.

“Thinking about something deep?” Krish asked her, approaching her in the dark silence of the night, “I knew you would be here, when you went for a long walk after dinner. Aren’t you scared here?”

“Scared?” Manasvi smiled, “No, I like the silence. The calmness.”

“Of course! You’ve seen so heavy-duty noise that you appreciate silence well.”

“I’m missing my phone.” Manasvi diverted the conversation. She didn’t want to discuss anything about her past anymore. Not with Krish. He had been a strong support for her but she didn’t want to harp on her past miseries and make them the focus of her life and discussions. She didn’t want to use Krish’s sympathy for her to rule his professional decisions. She didn’t want to allow Krish more space that he already had, as a friend, and as a mentor. She was fine, suffering it all alone, finding ways to deal with it. She wanted to appear mature and confident to deal with her issues, without needing a shoulder to lighten her burden. She was well equipped to do that on her own. More than that, she didn’t want her personal life to become a spectacle than it already was.

Krish was important but only at a certain distance. There were other casual friends at office and they were only acquaintances. Manasvi had never felt the need to talk to any man to shed her burden or share her pain.

The only man, she was ever going to talk her heart out with, would be Anshuman. He was the only man she had ever felt close to. So close that it felt like he was a part of her. The only man who could make her feel beautiful. She liked herself more when he was around because his eyes were always on her. His attention remained undivided to shower on her, and only her. He was the only man who made her feel like she mattered and that she was cared for. She was special. And she was the centre of his Universe.
Until…

Until he told her that they were not meant to be. He needed a peaceful life that didn’t remind him of their painful past. And that included her.
But it wasn’t her fault that she loved him despite every twist and turn in their life. It wasn’t her fault that her heart would beat only for him. He was the only one who made her feel complete because they fit like parts of a jigsaw puzzle. Crooked, weird, irregular, and yet they fit so perfectly together. He was the only man who made her feel perfect.

The only man she needed in her life was Anshuman.

……………………………………….

Anshuman was treated kindly and not as a criminal at the BSF chowki. This was the usual response he received, wherever he went. He was always treated with respect, by default.

One of the main reason for this was that he gave respect and commanded the same by his attitude and behaviour. He was always well spoken, respectful to the agencies, co-operated with all the procedures, never misbehaved or displayed an arrogant air around him. If he was asked to follow them, somewhere, or do something, he quietly followed and waited to talk to a senior official. Once he met a senior, his confident personality, his poised voice, and polished English, the way he stood and talked, the fact that he was a doctor and working with PBB, a humanitarian organisation, the fact that he had served in Indian Army, and the fact that his father was an ex-armyman – every single thing went in his favour and people generally didn’t misbehave with him.

They gave him due respect, because he never came across as a threat to them, whether in India or Pakistan, or Afghanistan, or any other part of the world that he had worked. He knew how to present himself.

Again, at BSF chowki near Barmer in Rajasthan, he went through thorough checking without making a fuss about it and without being forced for the same. He had only his passport with him.

Before crossing Pakistan border, he had Junaid’s visiting card, in case he was caught inside Pak territory. Once he crossed the border, he had memorised Junaid’s contact numbers and email id and tucked the card in the camel’s seat, which he let go near Ransingh ki Dhani. He also sent back the empty water bottle.

The Officer on duty flipped through his passport. There wasn’t much light in the chowki, as it was right in the middle of the desert, and they were maintaining some visibility through a single lantern. Anshuman kept talking to the officer, trying to distract him from examining the passport carefully, worried that the officer might notice that a page was carefully torn –  the one where it had a stamp of entry inside Pakistan. Since there was no exit stamp, he could have been caught by the forces, and he had carefully removed it on Junaid’s advice. He tore it in multiple small pieces and blew them in the air in the desert so that no one can ever retrieve them.

Thankfully, the officer was listening to him attentively, awestruck at the work he did, turning pages amused at the number of stamps on his passport, how he worked with different countries, for epidemic, and terror stricken areas, how he had left army because he was injured, how he was in Kashmir… and Anshuman didn’t fail to mention every single senior or batchmate he remembered so that the officer could know that he was not lying and speaking the truth.

The officer was immensely impressed. But he had his doubts, and he asked, “Why do you have only your passport? Where are the other things? No phone? No wallet? No water bottle?”

Anshuman replied, “It was in my car. I lost my way and got down at a place and climbed up a small sand dune to see around if I could spot the village that we were about to visit, when someone stole my car and everything else, phone, wallet etc. Only my passport was in my shirt pocket so it was saved.”

“Why do you look familiar?” he asked, “Have I seen you before?”

Anshuman was worried. There might have been some news running about him, 3-4 months ago, when his arrest had brought about some fresh discussions. Thankfully, the social media had an overload of information and he was sure that the officer won’t remember the exact details as it was not his job. Anshuman quickly replied, “Maybe. Our organisation is featured widely. And there are several interviews and articles on youtube as well. Maybe you saw me in a post on facebook or any other social media.”

The officer shrugged, “Maybe.”

They talked to him for a long time, and slowly the conversation turned from interrogation to common sentiments about serving the army and country. They remembered their training days and officers they remotely knew. They discussed politics and how their nature of work was similar as Anshuman was also braving the odds fighting an enemy, surviving bomb blasts and gunfire, and had been actively involved in world affairs.

By morning, RajSingh and his wife Madhu arrived, with two other officials of Rajasthan regiment. And they smoothly conversed, checked Anshuman’s identity cards, Aadhar card, and every single document which said that he was speaking the truth.

Both RajSingh and Madhu didn’t behave like they were relieved on seeing Anshuman after a long time. Army life had hardened them both and they knew that they shouldn’t let out their emotions at this time.

But once Anshuman was allowed to go, he sat in the car with them, and they were the only ones, Madhu hugged him and let her tears flow.

“Are you fine? Oh God! How did you cross the border? Did they let you? Who was the angel that helped you? I can’t believe it. Did you not eat well? You have become so thin.” Madhu kept blabbering in quick sentences, unable to believe that Anshuman was finally with her. She continued, “We were on the verge of losing hope.”

Anshuman didn’t reply to any of the questions. For this moment, he simply hugged her, tightly, and closed his eyes. His eyes were moist too, and heart overloaded with surging emotions, ready to flow out. He was back to his motherland, safe and sound. He had never felt like this ever before. Though he had always felt like a soldier would do. This feeling of belonging to this sand resurfaced every time he was in India. Partly because of his mother, and his father. Partly because this feeling was ingrained deeply in every individual during the army training.
But today, he had learnt the value of freedom.

RajSingh didn’t hug him. But his look, his behaviour, his warm solid handshake, and his pat on Anshuman’s back was nothing less than a hug. It was ‘his’ way of showing how much he cared.

After a few minutes in the journey, after Madhu had told him about Dadi and Preksha, and how everyone was doing, Anshuman asked her about Manasvi. “Mom, did you call Manasvi?”

“Yes, we did. But her phone was switched off. It was middle of the night. So we thought that maybe she is asleep, and we’ll talk to her in the morning.”

Anshuman tapped his finger tips on the back of his hand and then, after a moment, he said, “It’s morning, already. Give me the phone, I’ll call her.”

Madhu chuckled, “God! Are you the same Anshuman who would refuse to talk about her, and never asked anything about her. Look at you. You have changed so much. Asking your mom impatiently for her phone to call your wife?”

Anshuman swayed his jaw, “Really?! You will never stop melodrama, right?”

Madhu giggled, happy like a blissful mom, finally relieved for her son was changing for good, and for love, she took out her phone from her bag and gave him, “Manasvi’s number is saved.”

Anshuman scrolled through the contacts and pressed his lips, raking his hand in his hair, to rest them at the nape of his neck. He couldn’t wait.
But her phone was switched off.

Madhu understood his concern, and grinned, “We can call her in the afternoon, after we reach Delhi. Or you can also take the first flight from Jaipur to Mumbai.”

Anshuman rolled his eyes at the tease and sighed, “Come on, Ma! Please!”

“Arrey!! I’m serious!” Madhu laughed.

“We’ll go home first. I need to meet Dadi and Preksha. By that time, maybe she switches her phone on.”

RajSingh said, “I’m booking you a flight from Delhi to Mumbai for tomorrow, early morning. Even if you are able to talk to her, why wait more… go and meet her… and bring her home, if possible.”

Anshuman couldn’t stop smiling, secretively though. He tried his best to avoid displaying before his parents how a subtle smile was slowly making its way on his lips, leaving him thrilled, and grateful.
He was finally in India, breathing in the free air and he couldn’t stop feeling like fortune was smiling at him. He was finally with his parents, and going home.

He would finally be able to meet the girl of his dreams. The only girl in his life. The only girl, apart from his mother and sister, that he had ever thought about so deeply, found strength and solace in, admired and revered. The only girl who made him take decisions he would have never thought about otherwise. The only girl who stayed in his mind twenty-four-seven. The only girl who had the power to make him think emotionally and not rationally. The only girl he wanted to see happy and safe.

The only girl he had ever loved.

…………………………………

Hello dear lovely people,

I hope all of you are doing well in your personal and professional space. My wishes are always with you.
Thank you so much for your love and support to this story through the difficult and sad parts. I have no words to express my love and gratitude towards you. Thanks for being there.

I have replied to almost all comments on the previous updates. I try to do them as and when I read the responses, if they are made within a day or two of posting the update. The ones I miss, I will reply before the next update. Like I just replied to some, a few minutes back.
I’m trying to maintain a Monday – Thursday schedule of updates. So, next update will be on coming Thursday.

Take care,

Love you 💖💖💖

……………………………………

Junaid gave his visiting card to Anshuman before he left. The card read his name, phone number, and post at Federal Investigation Agency, that took care of cross border terrorism, human trafficking, and other criminal investigations. He was Assistant Director at FIA and therefore he was taking care of Anshuman’s case with that authority.

“It’s just for emergency. Don’t call me otherwise,” He warned Anshuman.
Anshuman nodded, “I understand, I wouldn’t risk safety of any of us.”

“Azhar will take you till Umarkot. Beyond that we have our men, someone who will take you ahead on a camel because it is desert area for miles and miles after that. There won’t be water or shade anywhere on the way until you reach some village across the border. So, it is only advisable to cross that area in the night. Afternoons are unbearable. Also, night is safer because we don’t want you to be caught by armed forces heavily manning both sides of the border.”

Anshuman nodded, trying to understand. It was a very risky operation, but given the odds, he didn’t have any other option left. Junaid was going out of his way to help him and it was a debt that he wouldn’t be able to pay in his life.

“If at all, you need my help at any stage of life, call me. You know my name. I work at PBB. And I will go back to working for them. You will get my number and details from PBB database.”

“Hope we meet some day but not like in the circumstances that we are in right now.”

“Hope so. Take care.” Anshuman said.

“You too.” Junaid hugged him and wished him a safe journey.

The Jeep taking Anshuman left the outskirts of Karachi towards Umarkot via Hyderabad in Pakistan.

It was a long journey and it took around 6 hours to reach Umarkot. Azhar and the driver talked to Anshuman on the way and told him about the roads, people, and how he had to avoid getting noticed or attracting undue attention when he was going from Umarkot to Rajasthan border through the desert.

By the time they reached Umarkot, the sun was shining high in the sky. They decided to wait until 8 pm at night, when the darkness would set in.

“Have rest and eat something. The journey ahead is long, tiring, and very dangerous. You have to cross the desert in the dead of the night.”

Anshuman had lost his appetite. He simply let the time pass, and prayed to God that nothing went wrong this time.

By evening, a local man met them with a camel to take Anshuman across. Anshuman stared at him, dumbfounded, and said, “One camel? Are you not coming with me?”

Azhar shrugged and said, “No, we can’t cross the border. It is illegal.”

The old man with the camel patted the hoofed animal and said, “But this animal is trained. He will take you across. Leave him once you reach a village in Ransingh ki Dhani. He will find his way back.”

Anshuman was surprised. How easily people trained animals to cross the border on both sides.

Azhar understood his questions without he spoke them, and said, “You are thinking correct. These animals were once used for smuggling and human trafficking. We caught them and they are now in custody of FIA. But they are trained nevertheless. The entire border is heavily manned, with armed forces on both sides, some places it is electrified fencing too, along with round the clock patrolling by BSF. But this particular stretch is difficult because it is desert area, less populated, and a little vulnerable. We wish you all the best. Anywhere you are caught inside Pakistan side of the border, say nothing, and simply surrender yourself. They will bring you to us. But once you cross the border, I cannot say what will happen to you on the Indian side, if you are caught, and how they will treat you.”

Anshuman said, “I’m not worried about the Indian side. I can handle from there.”

“Great. May God bless you.”

They wished Anshuman and took his leave. Anshuman settled on the back of the camel with a small water bottle, and nothing else, except his passport, prayers for people who helped him in this journey, and hope.

……………………………………..

Kajal’s operation had a few complications. She didn’t respond well. And a second surgery was scheduled in the coming week. She became more nervous. And she kept pestering Krish to ask Manasvi for her hand in marriage. Krish had promised her so that she would undergo the operation. However, he had no intention of spoiling his relationship with Manasvi. So, he tried his best to keep her away from his mother. So that she didn’t say something unexpected and made it awkward for them.

“I know, why she is not coming to meet me, anymore. You must have stopped her.” Kajal spoke to Krish, almost scolding him.

“I haven’t done anything like that.” Krish shrugged.

“I’ve given a call to her. I want to meet her.” Kajal’s eyes sparkled.

“No! Tell me you didn’t do that, ma. You can’t keep calling my friends, or colleagues.”

“She is Manasvi. Not just any friend, or colleague.” Kajal made it very clear to him, and refused to listen to anything he had to say in his defence. She had already called Manasvi to talk to her.

Manasvi hadn’t gone to meet Kajal, because she had herself felt weird. And before Krish could tell her not to come to the hospital, he found Manasvi entering their room.

Manasvi threw a glance at both mom and son, and stood speechless for a moment, before entering inside with flowers for Kajal. She gave her the flowers and sat beside her.

“How are you, aunty?” She asked.

“How can I be? When my son is giving me so much stress. Even if I ask him for a small favour, he refuses to agree to anything I say.” Kajal said.

Manasvi looked around clueless, first at Kajal, and then at Krish. Before setting any preface, without making any pretence or background, Kajal held Manasvi’s hand and said, “Manasvi, Krish won’t do it. So, I am asking you. Will you please think about the prospect of him as your life partner?”

“What!” Manasvi was left dumbfounded. For a moment, she was completely blank. What just happened, she hadn’t thought even in her weirdest dreams. She had never thought about Krish as anyone more than a casual friend. He had been good to her, kind and understanding, he had helped her a lot, but that was it. That was all she had thought about him.

“But aunty, I am…” quickly she tried to correct Kajal.

Kajal interrupted her, “I know! You were married long back. I know it was for documents sake so that you could live in India. Krish has said something about you. Rest I inquired from the office. Beta, don’t you think, life is too long to be spent alone. You are living away from your husband since years… and in fact, you were never with him…”

Manasvi gave a look of disbelief to Krish who was flabbergasted himself. Before going to Afghanistan, Krish had said the same thing about how the entire office gossiped about her. It was so easy for Kajal to know about her.

Krish intervened, “Ma, please! What are you saying?”

Kajal said, “I know, what I am saying. She married someone for getting Indian citizenship and it didn’t culminate in a proper marriage. It is not her fault. She is alone here. She has no parents, siblings, or family. Does she plan to live alone for the entire life? Is it that easy for a woman to pass live all by her herself, with no family to love, or support her? I am just hoping that you find happiness with each other.”

Manasvi frowned, “I don’t want to marry again. And I have never thought about Krish in any other way except like a friend.”

“If you haven’t, then this is the right time to think about this. I know, if I search in our community, I will get a pretty bride for him. But I like you a lot. You are nice, calm, mature… you work with him… understand him… you…”

“Ma, please?” Krish was getting angry now.

Manasvi sighed, and stood up, “But I don’t love him.”

Kajal was so low, and dejected that she had tears in her eyes. She didn’t speak anything after that. Her tears trickled down on her cheeks, unsettling Manasvi. She had seen her mother crying in moments of extreme helplessness. And they had been the worst moments of her life, she remembered them even now.

……………………………….

The camel smoothly treaded the vast expanse of the desert shared by the two countries. Anshuman sat alert and quiet, scanning the area in the way, trying to be as silent and as discreet as possible, to avoid being spotted by the armed forces. They slowly crossed miles in the darkest hours of the night and safely crossed the border, though suspecting the presence of border security forces far away, but fortunately managing to stay un-obtruded for a few miles inside the Indian side of the border.

Hardly a few miles inside the border at Rajasthan, around Ransingh ki Dhani, Anshuman got down the camel and left him, as instructed by Azhar and his accomplices. The camel turned around and quickly left him, running away in the dark.

Anshuman walked ahead on foot, hoping to find a path, in the deepest dark secluded area of the desert, his feet sinking in the sand, his throat drying, and his body dead tired due to long journey from Karachi till here. He kept walking, for a few hours. There appeared no end to this desert, and he had no idea for how long he had to walk. But he kept walking nevertheless. His feet started giving up, his back pained, his eyes drooped, and there was sand all over him – his face, his hair, his arms, his clothes, even in his mouth.

He dragged his feet through the sand for a long distance, exhausted, and directionless, before a spotlight fell on him. Four men in uniform surrounded him on their camels, and stopped his foray into the Indian territory.

………………………………..

“Why did you promise Ma, something which is totally out of question?” Krish was dumbfounded even now, when he asked Manasvi. They had stepped out of the room and he wanted to see her until taxi stand. He was extremely embarrassed at the way Kajal had been behaving lately.

Manasvi nodded, and replied in a low voice, “I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t see her in tears. I was lost and speechless. She asked me to promise. And I couldn’t speak.”

Krish lightly touched her arm, “I can understand. Sometimes, she can be too overwhelming. I’m so sorry. I’ll talk to her. You don’t worry.”

“Let the surgery be over.” Manasvi said, “Talk to her when you take her home. Don’t give her stress right now. We’ll wait until then.”

Krish gave it a thought. Manasvi’s suggestion made a point. There was no use arguing right now. Kajal would become more depressed and worried. Once the surgery was over, she wouldn’t even insist on marriage because right now, her only fear was who was going to be with Krish if she died. He decided to talk to her calmly after the surgery was over.

“Sure, you will be fine? Please don’t misunderstand me.” Krish said.

Manasvi said, “Come on, Krish. You have done so much for me. I can do this for your mother. And I know you very well, to misunderstand you for such a thing. And yes, I’ll be fine.”

…………………………………….

Anshuman was caught by soldiers of Indian Border Security Forces, and taken to their nearest chowki.

But Anshuman was not scared. He confidently declared that he was a doctor with PBB and had wandered away from the Indian side to the border area because he didn’t know the route. He knew that there was no other way but to lie. If he said that he crossed the border on a camel, they were going to put him in jail and think that he was a terrorist.
He showed them his passport, with Indian seal, and stood strong at his statement that he was in this area to work with underprivileged people in a village and lost his way.

After that everything went smooth as beyond this one lie, everything else that he spoke about being an Indian, resident of Delhi, being a doctor, working for PBB, and previously in Indian Army, were all true. They took only a moment to believe him because of his language, and genuine details. They gave him privilege to make one call. Anshuman wanted to call Manasvi. But he didn’t know what to talk to her after lying to her that he was being freed and going to Scotland, leaving her. And how was he going to explain her how he reached there. BSF would arrest him if he said that he had crossed the border illegally.

After thinking well, Anshuman called his father, RajSingh Shekhawat, and quickly explained in two sentences that he was with BSF and he needed someone there to verify his identity as an Indian. Being an army man himself, RajSingh took only one minute to understand the whole issue. He talked to the chief of the chowki, as an army senior, and told him that they were on their way to receive their son.

“Dad, will you please…” Anshuman said, before stopping midway, wondering what to add to that.

RajSingh understood. And replied in a calm, understanding voice.

“We will inform Manasvi.”

………………………………………………..

 

Anshuman continued to do this work in the jail without hoping a lot from the agencies and the system. He tried to immerse himself so much in work that he could forget everything else in his life. The patients, their illnesses, and his work needed to be on his mind at all times. He used to get so tired all day that his body would ache by night.
Still, when he would lie down to sleep every night, every muscle of his body aching, he was unable to tame his heart to not beat for her, mind to not think about her.

He wished she was fine, and doing well. He wished he could talk to her, even if it was only for once. He had to say so much to her. But he couldn’t. His thoughts, feelings, emotions stayed buried silently inside him.

Just like Manasvi’s memories.

One morning, the jailer called Anshuman to inform him that he had received a letter about him. Upset and worried, jailer was making calls to confirm if he had to send Anshuman as per the letter. The letter from the govt. agencies said that Anshuman’s case will now be heard in Islamabad court and a new bench of judges had been appointed to take a decision about him. Until then, he would stay in Islamabad jail.

Anshuman sat in the chair in the jailer’s office listening to Junaid Khan, who had arrived when the jailer called him, and his discussion with the jailer that said that he had received a similar intimation. Anshuman knew by experience and hearsay about how things worked in a govt. system. Even if they tried to help him genuinely, the formalities would take years. It was the same everywhere.
He didn’t even know which charges were levied on him and how he was going to counter them, whether the proofs of his innocence were submitted in the court of justice or they were with a higher official in his personal capacity, and how he was going to know in which direction the case was going once the jailer and Junaid were gone.

He didn’t even know how the new jailer in Islamabad jail would be. Not everyone was kind. Not everyone was tolerant to Indians.

……………………………………….

Krish’s mother, Kajal, was diagnosed with restrictive cardiomyopathy along with the respiratory distress she had been going through for months now.

The cardiothoracic surgeon advised surgery for the same. She refused to undergo surgery because she believed that heart surgery was risky and she would die. A few of their relatives had died during risky surgeries and she didn’t want to take any chances. Krish and doctors tried their best to convince her but she remained undeterred.

“Try to understand Krish, I’m so worried for you. I can’t die leaving you alone.” She had tears in her eyes
“No one is dying Ma.” Krish rolled his eyes, and said, “Our doctors are the best. They will try their best to relieve you. After surgery, your breathlessness will improve and life expectancy will increase. You are going to die, otherwise, not because of surgery.”

Kajal sighed, “Then, I’ll quickly find a bride for you and die peacefully.”

Krish stood up, angry on her, “Come on… don’t act like a baby.”

Manasvi had just reached hospital when she saw them discussing this issue. She stood for a moment trying to understand the issue, and gave flowers to Kajal, without saying anything. She generally never interfered in other people’s business, and convincing her was not her job. She stood quiet.

Kajal looked at her and said, “You tell him, Manasvi, not to pester me for surgery.”

Manasvi thought for a moment, and then replied in a low voice, “In such cases, I personally prefer to go by doctors’ advice.”

“Happy?” Krish said to his mom, “You will not get anyone who will support you in this issue.”

Kajal said, “But what if I die?”
“You won’t?” he assured her holding her hand.
“What if I do? Do you promise to get married if I am no more. I want to be relieved that you will be taken care of.”
He huffed, “Okay, I will. Fine, now?”

Kajal smiled, “Yes. That’s all I want. I can’t leave you alone.” Then she turned to Manasvi, “Manasvi, I want you to do something for me. Can you do me a favour, please?”

“Ji…”

“Will you please help Krish find a nice girl for him? In case I am no more… I know how dumb he is, regarding girls. He won’t take the step. You have to be with him to help him.”

Manasvi replied, “You will be fine, aunty. The surgery is going to be successful. But God forbid, if something happens, I’ll see to it that Krish gets married and is well taken care of. He will not be alone.”

Kajal sighed in relief. “Thank God. And thank you. Now, I can go for the surgery and I’m not worried anymore, even if I die. He has such a great friend in you.”

Manasvi simply smiled in reply.

The surgery was scheduled to be done two days later. Krish kept counselling his mother that she will be fine and he will get married because that was all she could talk about.

“Why don’t you ask Manasvi?” Kajal said, on the night before the surgery.
“Ask what?” Krish stared at her, flabbergasted.
Kajal nodded in irritation, shrugging, “What are we talking about always, at all times? What I am expecting from you? About marriage, obviously!”

“Ma… she is already married.” Krish couldn’t believe it that his ma said that. Thank God, Manasvi wasn’t here. Or else, his mom would have made it embarrassing for both Manasvi and him.

“I know, she is married. But I also know that she is not with her husband since years. Look, she doesn’t have a family. She has no one here. And she is such a nice girl. Both of you would look amazing together.” Kajal had already thought a lot about it, it seemed.

Krish heaved a deep breath, “Ma, she is my friend. Honestly, I’ve never thought anything like this about her.”

“So, why don’t you think now? She works with you. You understand each other. You were with her in Afghanistan. I can see how well you gel along with her. I’ve never seen you bond with anyone that much.”

Krish made her lie down on her bed and said, “Stop saying all that, ma! And now you should sleep. It’s your surgery tomorrow.”

“Okay. I’ll take rest, but promise me that you will think about it.” Kajal spoke with dreamy eyes.

“Uhh…okay… just spare me for now. Let’s talk after the surgery.” Krish switched off the light and settled his pillow on the spare attendant’s bed in his mom’s room in the hospital.
“Promise me, Krish!”
“Why are you always taking promises about everything?” Krish was irked.
“Please…promise me.”
“Okay… I promise… I will think… and that is all I can promise for now. Fine?” Krish said.

Krish closed his eyes, hoping to deflect his mom’s thoughts after the surgery was over. Definitely he was going to think but not about a way to propose to Manasvi, but he was going to think how to ease her pain. How to make her meet Anshuman.

Krish had personally witnessed Anshuman and Manasvi’s story and guessed that they were in love, only by his observation of their behaviour around each other. He considered Manasvi as a dear friend and he was never going to let his mom disturb their equations with each other.

……………………………………………..

Junaid Khan arrived to take Anshuman with him and submitted a letter from the authorities that he and his team was supposed to take Anshuman to Islamabad by air.

The jailer and the jail inmates were unhappy at having to let their favourite person leave them. Anshuman had bonded with many of the inmates, talked to them about their families, and the issues they were suffering from.

It wasn’t a bond of long duration, but in last 3.5 months, they had grown used to him being around them and grown to like him. They hugged him and thanked him for doing all that he had done for them.

Anshuman left Sindh jail with Junaid and two of his constables who were accompanying him. They left in a police jeep. Anshuman didn’t speak much through the small journey towards the airport. Nor did Junaid talk much except asking if he had been fine in the jail and whether he needed anything. Anshuman replied in short, not feeling like saying much. He silently observed the route and was shocked when Junaid crossed the signboard indicating towards the Karachi airport.

Anshuman stared at Junaid, turning to him, surprised and clueless. Junaid didn’t say anything. He kept quiet for a long time, until they crossed the entire Karachi city and reached the outskirts and then finally a secluded area out of the main city, on the highway towards Hyderabad. Another police jeep was waiting there on one side of the road.

Junaid stopped near the other white jeep, and parked his jeep in a corner. Turning to Anshuman, he moved his brows asking him to get down.

Anshuman spread his hands in air, “What?”

“I had said long back that I trust in justice. And I was hoping for that for you. But I also said that justice delayed is justice denied. You have already lost a lot because of us. We all know that you are innocent but this diplomatic paperwork is taking time and no one knows how long it is going to take. I don’t want you to spend your life waiting for justice.”

“So?” Anshuman was unable to believe what he was thinking and whether Junaid was helping him to leave.

“So, I am feeling guilty. I am not going to spend my life chasing your case, trying to ensure that everything went well and you were freed. I have other works to do, catch other criminals, serve my nation, and make it great, do things for my family… More than everything, my ammi is trying to get me married, and I am unable to think of anything personal because I feel, I was unable to help you. It’s pricking my conscience.”

“You don’t need to feel like that.” Anshuman said, “You are doing your job and you are pretty good at that.”

“Thanks. Anyway, both of us know how the system works. I’ve realised that there is no end point to it and it may take years. Also, we don’t know when the authorities change and a new officer comes, who changes the entire scenario. We can’t wait.” Junaid asked him to step out of his jeep and took him to another jeep to meet 2 men – a driver and another man with him.

“He is Azhar. I can trust him with my life. He works with us undercover. He will take you to the border towards Indian side, and help you cross the border discreetly. After that, it is your responsibility. I’ll handle here.” Junaid said, leaving Anshuman speechless all over again. He was not reacting, anymore. He only listened.

Junaid took out Anshuman’s passport from his pocket and said, “Azhar will give you a set of clothes to change. Here’s your passport. I can only give your passport right now. Everything else, including your phone will remain with us because we need to handle here after you go.”

Overwhelmed, Anshuman couldn’t speak for a moment. His heart was heavy and throat choked. He had almost thought an end to his life in one of a dingy, dark cell of an unknown jail. And here, an unrelated man was giving him his life back. It was unbelievable.

Anshuman took his passport from Junaid. As if his soul, his heart, his existence, his life had returned back to him, on this silent deserted road out of Karachi. His eyes became moist. He stepped ahead and hugged Junaid, who hugged him back, saying, “Take care.”

Anshuman sat in the jeep. Before they left, Anshuman said, “I hope you don’t face any problem because of this. What will you tell them?”

“Don’t worry about that. I have planned it well. For a long time, Islamabad people will think that you are in Sindh and Sindh jailer will assume that you are in Islamabad. I’ve set some colleagues to help me. After few months, people will stop bothering. Like the media and news segments died after you were shifted to jail. People have short memory.”

“I will never be able to forget you and what you did for me.” Anshuman sighed, on a choked throat.

“I will never forget you too. You taught me a new meaning of patience and selflessness. You gave a hardened cop, a chance to revive his human side. You worked with our people without thinking who they are, where they come from, what they believe in, and whether you like them or not.”

Anshuman smiled slightly, and replied. “Who am I to judge people? After working with different people across several countries, I’ve seen that deep inside, we are all the same. Craving for love and compassion. Bound by similar desires, similar needs and wants, almost same problems, same fights within ourselves, and same struggles through life.”

Junaid smiled too, “Divided by borders.”

“United by feelings.”

………………………………

Next Update on Monday. Let’s see if I can follow a Monday-Thursday routine of updating this story.

Hope all of you are doing fine. Take care

Love 💖💖💖

 

Manasvi was back to her apartment – her small one-bedroom space in a pleasant, safe building in Andheri West – a place she called home. She had paid rent together for 11 months as post-dated cheques. So, she didn’t have to meet the landlord or clarify to neighbours where she was. She locked herself in her room and didn’t step out for the entire day, crying, feeling lost and lonely all over again. Feeling uprooted and directionless.

After tidying her room and the entire apartment, she washed every cloth, every bedsheet, changed the setting of the bed, the chair, her desk and everything she had, in a failing attempt to distract herself and make it feel new and different. Nothing helped. She felt as miserable as before.

In the coming week, Manasvi joined The Insight office and was placed with Krish to prepare for the conference on the effects of climate change. She didn’t want to go anywhere out of Mumbai or India for a while because she was hoping for a news from Anshuman. Krish understood and didn’t pester her for anything. He gave her the space she needed and since she was directly reporting to him, he ensured that she could work at her own pace.

Manasvi didn’t interact with many people other than Krish. Even with him, she spoke a few words or small phrases in the entire conversation. She stayed quiet, dealing with her own feelings, turbulence inside her, making her numb and speechless most of the time.
Manasvi was not prepared to move on so easily.

For a short while, she had felt her life had found a new meaning and an unexpected happiness with Anshuman in Afghanistan. She felt she was beginning to look at life with a new perspective, new vision.
She had always been alone, but before this she had compromised with her life and learnt to live alone. Almost, since forever. She had always stayed strong and expected nothing from life, before this. But after spending time with Anshuman, her heart began to weave hopes and dreams that she had never known before. She found herself feeling alive. Her emotions couldn’t stop tugging to him at every step. She had started hoping that someday, when all the clouds of despair fade away and fog of harsh circumstances settles down, they will be together, forever.

She never realised when her respect, admiration, awe for Anshuman gradually transformed into deep-seated love. And she never realised when this love grew so much that it started hurting her. She had believed that he loved her too. But he simply asked her to go away. To move on. And to make a life without him.

She had lost him. And with him, a big part of her own existence was lost too.

…………………………………….

Anshuman was shifted from police custody to Sindh jail.
Well aware that his future was locked and sealed for years from now, without any hope of revival, he stayed quiet and braced himself for what was to follow. Despite having a record of serving different lands as a doctor, one bad stroke of luck had landed him in an unfortunate position where he could neither practice his skills anymore nor be with his family, friends, or Manasvi. He missed his life, his freedom, his surgical practice, his patients…
And more than everything, he missed Manasvi.

Still, he was glad that she had accepted his request. Wishing for a bright future for her, he himself resigned his life to fate from here.
He had heard about several such instances where the release of a captive was deferred for an indefinite period due to lack of a diplomatic process. He didn’t know what lay ahead of him, from here.

……………………………….

Two months passed

There was no news from Liz or her husband from Afghanistan. They told Manasvi that there were hundreds of convicts and captives and once they were sent to jail, they were given numbers and not names. It was hard to find out anything unless they knew which jail Anshuman was in. Nor there was any development from the MEA in India. After multiple requests, they had agreed to send Anshuman’s name as an official request but there was no reply on that request. That was the last thing, RajSingh and Madhu told Manasvi.

Manasvi hoped that they had freed Anshuman. To live in uncertainty was the worst for any human being. It was like living on an edge while watching the life pass by you.

Manasvi had stopped interacting with people around her. Not that she ever interacted before. She was always quiet, and a loner, who remained busy with herself. But after coming back from Afghanistan, she had resigned herself to her own thoughts, her photography, her political blog, news segments, and work that Krish would assign to her.

She hardly ever smiled, did her work robotically, and left for home on time. She would cook, clean and do chores at home to stay busy. Later she would listen to news. And sleep, after praying to God that Anshuman was safe wherever he was.

And she prayed hard that he was in Scotland, and not in a jail in Pakistan. She would be happy thinking that Anshuman was living a peaceful life away from her. But not that Anshuman had lied to her to keep her away from his troubles, and to make her leave Afghanistan.

………………………………………

These two months, Anshuman spent in Sindh jail.

Compared to other inhabitants, he was treated well, because he was a doctor. The jailer in the Sindh jail was kind and he befriended Anshuman, hoping that he would help to treat the growing infections, difficult diseases spreading from one inmate to another, and to assess the need of specialised care.
Their own regular doctor had been unwell and so he had missed many previous appointments for over 2 months. Also, he came only once a week. Difficult cases, or severe infections were sent to the district hospital.

Having Anshuman with them was like having a full-time in-house doctor for the jail. And the jailer wanted to use this opportunity for the people residing in jails.

Anshuman was relieved. He had been missing his life. And to treat patients was his purpose of life. What he was doing in PBB, he would now do in a Pakistan jail. Patients were patients for him. They had always been, wherever he lived.

The best part was that he got a stethoscope, hammer, tuning fork, tongue-depressor, thermometer, sphygmomanometer, paper pads and pens. What else did he want to be content.

He spent his days and some of his nights examining hundreds of jail-inmates, one by one. He dressed their wounds, prescribed antibiotics, talked to them about hygiene and maintenance of a healthy regime, he taught them about fitness, and asked separate stay for people infected with communicable diseases. He asked for more diagnostic aids and he got them. The jailer facilitated all that he needed.
In one month, he set up a small laboratory for collection of blood samples, an isolation unit, and a small emergency set-up for minor procedures.

The inmates respected him. And the jailer couldn’t stop raving about him.

One afternoon, Anshuman was sitting in the mess, eating dal and rice, when the jailer approached him and sat before him.
“Doctor, we have arranged for all the disposable dispensable items that you had asked us.”
Anshuman nodded, “That’s great. Lack of gloves and disposable syringes halts a lot of procedures.”
The jailer smiled gratefully and said, “Your presence here has done wonders for us. We had been struggling with growing infections here. You altered the entire scenario for good. It’s not like we don’t have a doctor here. But you know, how it is, doctors are always in shortage.”
“It’s the same situation in all developing countries.”
“Glad you came here. Though it was not good for you. But helped us.”
Anshuman shrugged, “I guess, it was destined this way.”

The jailer tapped his fingers on the table for a moment, looking at Anshuman’s plate, and said hesitatingly, “I’m sorry for all that you have had to suffer. The living conditions here…”

Anshuman interrupted him, and chuckled, “Don’t feel bad. I’ve no complaints with the living conditions. I’ve served in disputed, war zones in Iraq, Syria, Israel, Myanmar, and Russia. I’ve gone for days without food, surviving terror attacks, and no facilities. Compared to that, this place is safe and at least, there is food for three times a day.”

The jailer smiled, “I’ll always remember this…and I’ll try to learn optimism from you.”

Anshuman said, “I was treating patients there… and I’m doing the same here. So, to be honest, I’m fine, as long as I’m doing my job. My needs are not big. I can survive on meagre facilities. The only thing I miss is…” His voice trailed off.

“Your family… your wife…” The jailer finished it for him.

Anshuman nodded to confirm, looking away.

The jailer said, “Junaid Bhai has told me everything about you. You have no idea but he is trying his best to get you freed. Last week, he was in Islamabad to advocate your case as a special case.”

“That’s really nice of him. He is a kind fellow,” Anshuman smiled.

“Yes, he is. I hope something happens fast, and you are released soon. We can’t carry this sin with us, despite knowing that you were innocent.”

Anshuman thanked him for his kindness and stopped thinking about it. He didn’t want the expectations to build up. Only to be quashed. Fragments of broken expectations cut deep like glass pieces and hurt for long. Anshuman had stopped expecting anything. He had a purpose in life and it kept him going wherever he was.

………………………………

Another month passed

Manasvi was sorting the pictures she had taken to cover a series of dilapidated, seriously dangerous old buildings of Mumbai and how they were a threat to human life. She was writing the details with each picture when she received a call from Krish.

“Manasvi, I’m not coming to office today. Mom is wheezing severely since last night. I’m in the hospital. They are admitting her.”
“Oh!” Manasvi was worried. Of late, more time spent with Krish had resulted her in hearing his stories about his affectionate mother and everything she did. Sometimes, his mom would send food for Manasvi, and sometimes sweets. Manasvi felt low, the way she had felt when she was losing her own mother, years ago. “Do you need someone there? Shall I come?”

“No, don’t worry. I’m here. Just take care of office, and work.”

“Don’t worry.” Manasvi relieved him.

She focused on work for a long time, but couldn’t stop herself from worrying about Krish and his mother. Krish had helped her so much during the Afghanistan trip and even after that. He was a friend, she had never asked from God, but knew that she couldn’t have managed without him.

In the evening, after work was finished, she went to the hospital to meet Krish and his mom, and pay her wishes.

She gave a bouquet of flowers to Krish’s mom and wished her a speedy recovery. Krish’s mom was elated to see her. “I knew, you must be this sweet and warm. Krish talks so much about you that I felt like I know you.”

Manasvi simply smiled at the compliment, and left after spending some time with them.

She didn’t feel like socializing, or meeting people more than for a few minutes. She missed Madhu and Preksha. Both of them however called her every few days and even she called them but they didn’t talk much. Manasvi couldn’t say how devastated she was. And she could never keep the guilt away that Anshuman was away from them because of her.

Even though she had promised Anshuman, she could never get the divorce papers readied or given to his family. She just couldn’t.

…………………………………….

Anshuman was dressing someone’s wound when a guard told him that he was summoned in the jailer’s chamber.

In the jailer’s chamber, Anshuman was surprised to see Junaid Khan, who hugged him to greet him. He had with him a group of 5 people.

Junaid talked to the group and said, “This is Dr. Anshuman Shekhawat, that I was talking about.”
One of them shook hands with Anshuman and said, “We are sent to meet you. We have heard a lot about you.”

Anshuman was told later that Junaid had left no stone unturned to tell people about him and requested to treat him as a special case, for the exceptional work he was doing in the jail. Two of the group were doctors, who asked him where he did his graduation and post-graduation from. They knew a few common professors from Scotland too. The entire group, of which others were from the ministry, examined the work he was doing in the jail, the hygienic conditions, the medicine dispersing unit, isolation ward, emergency, and lab… The jailer had prepared a detailed report on how Anshuman had been kind and helped other inmates recover from their ailments.

Anshuman was deeply grateful to Junaid and the jailer. Speechless, and overwhelmed, he silently took the group to the work he was doing. The inmates were also happy with him, and they spoke about how it was a privilege to have Anshuman around.

When the group left, Anshuman couldn’t find words to thank Junaid Khan, who was doing this out of his capacity of work. It was not his job. His job had ended the day he submitted the enquiry report and sent Anshuman to jail. After that, he could have detached himself. But Junaid couldn’t do it.

Anshuman just hugged him, with a pat on his back, expressing deep gratitude.

Junaid said, “I’ve always had faith in justice. But sometimes justice delayed is justice denied. I’ll see to it that it isn’t delayed much for you. I’ll do anything to see that you are freed.”

“I have no words to thank you.” Anshuman said.

“Then, don’t say that. Because I have no words to apologize. I just hope that we didn’t do much loss to you.”

“I have no complaints from anyone.”

“That’s kind of you. Will you be able to give me a few days more? I’ll return with a good news.”

Anshuman sighed, “I have patience of the size of a mountain. I can wait for years, if I see a ray of hope.”

Junaid smiled, “Not years, brother, it will be a few days only. I promise.”

“Thanks.”

“Meanwhile, do you want me to contact your wife or your family? I can give them a message or something, if you want me to.”

Anshuman nodded to refuse, “No. They’ll panic on hearing from you. Manasvi must have accepted that I am in Scotland in a research field. She might be hating me for dumping her like that. But slowly, she will accept and move on. I don’t want to tell her that I am still in jail. And as for my parents, and family, they must have been tired asking for my release, again, slowly accepting fate. I don’t want to rattle them all over again. I’ll call everyone if, and when, I am freed.”

“I’m sorry.” Junaid seriously felt bad for Anshuman.

“It’s alright. Life is an amazing teacher. And I have learnt that life goes on, people move on, and find a way like a flowing stream. Whether with or without you. They will find a way too.”

………………………………………..

 

Apologies for posting this update late. I wasn’t getting time to write. I had posted a note regarding it. In case, you missed it, I’m writing it here. I had a few commitments to fulfill, so I decided not to write it in a hurry.
Today I had some time, so the first thing, I did was write this update.
Won’t drag sad parts more.
I promise, this story will make up for all the tears we shed for Manasvi and Anshuman.

I’ve been asked if I will finish the story here. Yes, I will finish all stories that I begin in this blog.
Twisted Minds was the only one I stopped writing at Wattpad and removed it. Then, I didn’t finish it here and directly wrote the book. It was a different case. I never started it here. So, if you are reading a book here, rest assured, it won’t be left halfway. I can never do that.

But yes, I will keep removing parts and eventually the entire story after it is completed. I’ve suffered enough to trust online space anymore.
This is how we develop trust issues and get robbed off of our innocence and simplicity. But can’t help it.
Given a choice, I would have let all my stories free at Wattpad, forever. But then, some of the readers spoiled the fun for all of us. I still miss Wattpad.

Anyway, since we have moved on… let’s enjoy what we have in hand 😊

Thanks for all the love and support.

Love you all 🤗💖

………………………..

Junaid was still speechless. He knew that Anshuman was destroying his prospects to be freed by telling his wife that he was going to Scotland. His decision was insane and inexplicable. Why would someone do that? It was self-destructive.

“What if everyone believes her that you are being freed? They will stop trying for your acquittal. It is dangerous.”

Anshuman shrugged, “Honestly, I don’t have much hope left for myself. It is a war of diplomacy and negotiation between the two countries. And my experience says that the tussle will go on for long, with not any hope of my release. But for that I can’t let Manasvi stay in Afghanistan all alone, for God knows how long.”

Junaid heaved a deep sigh, and said, “I wish I could understand that. On the one hand, your wife is in a really dangerous situation and she is all alone. On the other, you are trapped yourself. Can’t say who needs to be safer first.”

“Her. Any day.”

Anshuman smiled and confused Junaid all the more.

………………………………………….

Manasvi was broken. She cried for the entire night.
Lonely, and distressed, she didn’t know how to take this development. She had been striving to get him acquitted. And she had been worried for him, until today. That pain was gone, only to be replaced by another.

She was immensely happy that Anshuman would finally be released and will live a free life. A life that he had been hoping. A life free of all the struggles, dangers to life, and hardships. A life well deserved.

It was high time, he got what was his due. She would always pray for him to be happy and content in his life.

But it was painful to realise that she was not a part of that life. That she was not the reason of his happiness and contentment. That he was happy without her and didn’t want her to accompany him in his journey. Instead, he wanted to be away from everything that reminded him of his past.

She had promised him that she will do this for him. For the first time, he had asked her for something. She could never let him down.

Early in the morning, Manasvi informed Krish and RajSingh Shekhawat that she was arriving in Delhi by the Air India flight from Kabul to New Delhi, taking off at 1:00 pm. She packed her bags and called Liz and Asfiya to inform them that she was going to India.

Liz and Asfiya came to the hotel to meet her for the last time and wished her the best for her future. They were both leaving for France, sometime in the following week. Manasvi didn’t know if she would have been able to manage in Kabul without them. She thanked them amply, invited them to India, exchanged phone numbers and finally said goodbye to them.

They dropped her to the airport. While on the way to the airport, thousands of thoughts crept in Manasvi’s mind, almost in tandem, rattling her mind for the variety of possibilities.

Can someone like Dr. Anshuman Shekhawat be so disturbed by his circumstances that he decided to leave everything and go to Scotland? Would he do that without meeting his family in Delhi? The family he loved beyond anything, the family who was trying hard to get him freed, his parents, Preksha, Dadi… will he leave them like that?
Okay, he didn’t want to take me with him…but at least, he could have met me once. I am going to India too.
Will Anshuman do that? Can he do that?
Leave PBB for a better future?
Leave clinical practice for research work?
In Scotland?

Her heart couldn’t get itself to believe it. Already the pain of abandonment and loneliness had engulfed her. She had never been with Anshuman, but there was always a hope, at least. He had broken that thread of hope between them. He had taken away the comfort and warmth of her dreams and wishes to be with him, some day. Her heart was overwhelmed with emotions.

And now, this new doubt had started troubling her. Is he really going to be free?

Before entering the airport, at the departure gates, Manasvi asked Liz, “Liz, can you ask your husband if we can inquire where they have kept Anshuman and whether they are leaving him?”

“Give me a moment.” Liz was moved when she saw Manasvi so distraught. Her eyes were teary, reddened and swollen, for she hadn’t slept for the entire night. She looked lost and broken. Pale and weak, as if she would fall down any moment.

Liz called her husband and talked to him. She had already spoken to him about Manasvi and Anshuman and he had assured her that he would try to help them through his contacts in Ministry of External Affairs in Pakistan. After talking to him, Liz informed Manasvi, “He will try to get the information. Stay in touch after you reach India. We will let you know if we can do something.”

Manasvi hugged her and Asfiya, and thanked them both. “Hope we meet some day.”

“Take care of yourself.” Liz patted her back.
“We’ll miss you!” Asfiya hugged her back.

“I’ll miss everything about this trip. I gained and lost so much here, on this soil.”

She didn’t want to go. But she had promised Anshuman that she will go back. She had promised him that she will move on. Right now, she had no clue about him. But the least she could do was keep her promise to him.

“I’m doing this just for you, Anshuman. Just because I promised you.” Manasvi murmured to herself and made a move towards the departure gate and security check-in at the Kabul airport, feeling detached from her roots all over again.

………………………………

When Manasvi reached India and walked out of the exit gates, after the Immigration check and other security checks, at around 5:00 pm, she was received by Anshuman’s entire family, RajSingh Shekhawat, Madhu, Preksha, and there was Krish, who had come from Mumbai to receive her.

Overwhelmed, Manasvi wept like a baby, hugging Madhu. Madhu consoled her and they took her home, along with Krish.

Manasvi sat with Preksha and Madhu, and Dadi for a long time, had dinner but again couldn’t sleep properly at night. She kept tossing and turning in bed, and when she was restless, she walked in the balcony, worrying about Anshuman. Preksha had postponed her marriage because of Anshuman. Could he leave her and go away without saying a proper goodbye? That was so not Anshuman.

She couldn’t stop her tears. “If it is a lie, I’m never going to forgive you.”

…………………………..

The next morning, she called Anshuman’s number. His phone was switched off. She didn’t know who had that phone but knew that whoever had it, had been helping them talk to each other. She decided to beg and request the person on the other side to tell her about Anshuman, if he was really being freed and if he was not, then, maybe help him be released.

But the call didn’t connect. It stayed off for the entire day.

Manasvi stared at the phone, hoping for it to ring. Hoping for Anshuman to ask her if she reached Delhi safely. Hoping for him to tell her that he was freed too, and was leaving Karachi for Scotland.

But it didn’t ring. RajSingh and Madhu told her that they had an appointment at MEA office on Tuesday where they would request the secretary to consider their application to appeal for Anshuman’s release in official capacity. Manasvi didn’t tell them about Anshuman’s call.

She couldn’t decide whether she should do that. If he was indeed being freed, and going away, this would break his parent’s and family’s heart. If he was still imprisoned, she couldn’t stop the process of his release. His family was terribly worried for him. They told her that her presence was not required. And it would complicate the case as she was still an Afghan national. Her presence was not good for Anshuman’s case.

Manasvi understood and told them to stay in touch with her, telling her about every development in the case. On her part, she would stay away. And would never come in limelight before any agency or media that she was related to Anshuman.

With a heavy heart, Manasvi said goodbye to Shekhawat family and returned to Mumbai with Krish, by an evening flight, next day.

One single moment had pushed her far away from Anshuman and his family.

In the flight, seated next to her, Krish tried to console her.

“Manasvi, we will do whatever we can to save Anshuman. I hope you know that not much is in our hands.”
Manasvi nodded vigorously, “I’m not ready to discuss. My emotions are all over the place. I’ve never felt this devastated before. I feel, I’m unable to breathe.”

“Take rest for a couple of days. Get your apartment in order. Come to office on Monday. Everybody is waiting for you to join.” Krish said.

“But, I can’t…” Tears flew down her cheeks.

Krish shrugged, “So, what are you planning to do to earn a living? Sure, you need to feed yourself and be able to pay the rent right? You can’t sit at home and brood for Anshuman. At job, you have ample things to distract yourself. Also, ours is a profession where we can actually think of doing something to help him.”

Krish made sense. The Insight was a job that she didn’t want to leave. She had got it after much struggle, and she had nothing else in hand. These were the people who valued her talent and work. She had to join something anyway. How long could she sit at home?

With a heavy heart, she said, “I’ll join on Monday.”

Krish smiled, “That’s great. Let’s see how Mr. Mehta and the team place you next. Work hard. Your experience with diverse backgrounds is golden. It will take you places.”

Manasvi ran her tongue to wet her dried lips and tried to smile meekly. She didn’t want to live with Anshuman and trouble him. She wasn’t dreaming of a life with him, anymore. But the least she deserved was a proper news about him. She decided she would be happy if someone told her that Anshuman was relaxed, free, and happy in Scotland.

But there was no hope left. She buried her face in her palms and sighed. Tears flew down in a constant stream from her eyes, for she was unable to bear anymore.

‘I don’t know where you are and I will probably never know. This stab will always stay in my heart like a thorn that pricked it, making it bleed, but was never taken out. This wound will remain unhealed in my heart, forever. It will never let me breathe free. It will never let me smile again. It will remain like a sore spot on my soul. I wish I could understand why a person like you would inflict so much pain upon someone.’

 

“And… I have different plans.” he said.

“Different?” she murmured with trembling lips, almost repeating him.

“Before I came to Afghanistan, I had an offer from my college in Scotland. They have openings in clinical research. I wasn’t considering it then because I was associated with PBB and then, I had to come to Afghanistan for you. But now…” His voice trailed off.

She completed it for him. “You are distressed. And you want time off?”

“Yeah!” He sighed, and huffed so that she could hear it clearly.

It had hurt her initially because she had been almost started believing that they were together in all ups and downs of life, from now on. That they were made for each other and could weave a new life out of their hopes, their dreams, their shared painful history, and most of all the love they had for each other.

But she was wrong. He was not a part of that dream that she had seen alone. And no matter how much he had done for her, it all bottled down to an emotion that he was not sure of. He had suffered enough. She had no right to make him suffer anymore.

Maybe that was best for both of them. Maybe she was not good enough for him. If he wanted to leave and go away, she didn’t have any right to stop him or ask him to reconsider.

She brushed the back of her hand at her nose to sniff away the tears shedding constantly and spoke in a steady voice, “Wow! That’s great news. Scotland will be a good option for you.”

He sighed. Finally, she had believed him. He couldn’t have asked for anything more. He asked carefully, “Do you think, it is a good option?”

“Yes, of course! I’m so happy for you.”

“I hope I’m not hurting you.”

“Oh…no..no! Please don’t think so,” She tried to speak as casually as she could, trying not to reveal her breaking voice, “I was feeling bad for you. So, it was gnawing on my mind. Now that you’ll be free and happy in your world, I’ll be relieved too.”

She leaned by the window in her room watching the setting sun, pressing her lips, struggling with the lump hurting her throat. She was lonely once again. But she had no reason to complain. She had asked God to help Anshuman. His freedom was the biggest gift she could have asked for. She was truly, genuinely happy.

“Sure?” Anshuman asked cautiously.

“Yup. Very sure.”

“If I ask you for something, will you be able to give it?”

“Anything for you, Anshuman. You have no idea what you have been for me and my life. I will do anything you ask me to.”

“Then, meet a lawyer, get divorce documents made, sign them and send them to my home in Delhi. I’ll ask my family to send them to me. I want to be free to begin a new life.”

She closed her eyes and kept listening to him, only to be distracted when he asked again, “Will you be able to do that?”

“Yeah! I’ll do it.” She agreed on a low whisper. If this was a test of her devotion, patience, strength, and resilience, then be it. She had sailed through many storms before. One more wouldn’t break her.

“Thank you. And with that, you are free too.” Anshuman winced painfully. It wasn’t easy for him but he knew that he had to do this to not only make her leave Kabul and go back to India, but to convince her to begin a new life without him.

She should start living again. She should be happy and positive about life ahead. Waiting and pining for him would make her life miserable. She heard him but instead of replying, she broke down, and placed her hand at her mouth to avoid making a noise.

Anshuman said firmly, “Please begin a new life and try to stay happy. It isn’t that difficult.”

“Hmm!”

“You have to promise me.”

She sighed, “If you promise to stay happy, I will do that too.”

“I’m very happy!” he spoke in a convincing voice.

She asked in a teary whisper, “Will you meet me? Someday?” Then, she quickly corrected herself, “No, not in near future…I don’t want to add to your pain or remind you of these brutal days… but maybe someday in future?”

He took a long pause, in which he wondered what he should reply and she hoped that he would someday agree to meet her and then she would probably sit with him for hours and hear him speak about every ordeal he had been through. She wished to hear him out and maybe help him heal his scars.

“I’m not sure.” He said.

“Okay! I understand.” With the last hope shattered, there was nothing left to talk. She feared the silence between them for it meant the end of the call, it meant that this was the last time she was talking to him, it meant that from now she would never know how he was, where he was, it meant the end of connection between them.
She nearly panicked at that.

It was too early. She had to say so much. She had to hear so much from him. Their conversations couldn’t end like that. There had to be more.

She quickly updated him before they said goodbye, hoping to get a source of contacting him, “Okay… alright… I’ll go back to India tomorrow… I’ll get the divorce papers made… and send them to you… will you mail me your address? …Or phone number?”

“Manasvi…” He interrupted her. He knew what she was going through while she was trying to behave brave and strong. He was going through the same. But till the time she thought that she could connect to him in some way, she was never going to be truly free.
They had no future. The sooner they accepted, the better it would be for them.

She replied, “Yes…”

“Send the papers to my mom. And please give me a break for few years.” He spoke in an exhausted tone.

She was immediately apologetic, “I’m sorry.”

“So? That’s it?”

“Yeah.” She tried to quickly remember if there was something else, she wanted to say. There was so much. So much!!!
Why she couldn’t remember even a single word at this moment. Should she say that she was thankful for everything? Should she tell him how much she loved him? Should she ask him to not go?

He didn’t give her much time to think. He said, “Goodbye!”

She nearly trembled. Her body had stiffened by now, too sore to move even an inch. She stammered and replied, “Please… take care… of yourself.”

“You too.” He disconnected the call. For a long moment, he looked at the phone screen, painfully and hopelessly until it looked blurred due to the pool of tears in his eyes. He had broken the last connection he had with his soul.
What was left with him was a lifeless body.

She lay down on the bed and cried like a baby. She could feel her body hurting physically at this heartbreak.

………………………

Junaid had been standing beside Anshuman, hearing every single thing. He took the phone back from Anshuman.

“What if she really moves on?” Junaid asked him.

Anshuman had a sad smile on his face with a dejected nod, “That is what I want. She should move on.”

“It’s unbelievable. You won’t even tell her that you are stuck here?”

“I can’t let her ruin her life.”

“You love her so much that you are ready to let go of her? Only to make sure that she is happy and peaceful in her life?” Junaid was flabbergasted. He had never seen someone going to this extent for his love.

“She is doing the same – letting me go – hoping that I’ll be content and peaceful without her.”

……………………………

It’s Tuesday. As promised, I’m updating Beyond Every Border.

I’m trying to keep up with the schedule.
Though, I’m posting a bit late. But since it was a really long update, I hope I’ll be excused 😊

Love you all 💖💖💖

Stay blessed. Take care 🤗🤗

……………………

For two days, Manasvi spent time either inside the Metropolitan hotel or with Liz and Asfiya at their boutique studio, going out as less as possible. She had once gone to the market to get some necessities, but when she returned to the hotel, she felt that she saw the cab driven by the criminal who was following her.

She didn’t see the man but only the sight of the cab unnerved her. She had been plain lucky that she was saved until now. She decided to not venture out anymore.

Krish and RajSingh Shekhawat informed Manasvi that the Ministry of External Affairs was not keen on taking Anshuman’s case. They were firm that they hadn’t sent anyone to Pakistan in their knowledge. He didn’t stay in India for past several years, was in Syria and Afghanistan before this, and didn’t even take a flight from India to reach Pakistan. He had gone by flight from Abu Dhabi.
Every evidence increased suspicion on his intentions and they were unable to take responsibility of his actions.

Manasvi nearly panicked. Tears dropped from her eyes, one after the other, in a regular stream. She had been scared that Anshuman would get in trouble because of her. But she also had hopes that he would prove to be innocent and will be freed. The refusal from the ministry shattered her optimism to pieces. Each piece stabbing her like a knife through her heart.

She couldn’t stop herself and wept inconsolably, burying her face in the palms of her hands. Her misery wouldn’t come to an end. And now, she had been the reason for a lifetime of torture for the man who meant the most to her. Anshuman was everything for her. Her angel. Her saviour. He had eventually sacrificed his freedom while she was roaming free. She felt so disgusted that she couldn’t breathe.
She wished she could go back few months and change her decision to apply for job and renewal of passport. Her first priority should have been to give divorce to Anshuman, the day he had asked her for that.
He would have been free of her cursed shadows if they were divorced at this moment. He wouldn’t have followed her to Afghanistan and never gone to Karachi.

Asfiya hugged her to console her. Krish called her again to tell her that they were now trying to get a cabinet minister to recommend their case and to ask them to review again. Liz called her husband in the mean time and told him everything about Manasvi, Anshuman, and how he had landed there.

She disconnected the call and returned to sit with Asfiya and Manasvi. She patted Manasvi’s shoulder and said, “Manasvi, my husband is at a high post in the Ministry of External Affairs, Afghanistan. He says that he has strong contacts in the Ministry in Pakistan. He can try to get Anshuman freed on his level.”

Manasvi raised her face from her palms. She was shivering even now. She wiped her tears and whispered, “Really? Will he help us?”

Liz nodded, “Yes. He said he can’t promise how much time it will take. But he will try his level best. He will call someone in Pakistan ministry tomorrow and see how it needs to be taken ahead.”

Manasvi pressed her lips, and spoke resolutely, “I’ll postpone my tickets. I’ll stay here.”

Liz said, “You can go back to India, tomorrow. I’ll ensure Hamid calls his friends and takes up the case.”

Manasvi gave it a thought and wondered if the seriousness of the issue will be diluted if she went back from here. Why will anyone follow the case seriously to help her if she left? And they wouldn’t know how distressed she was. Maybe they needed some insights into Anshuman’s career and professional life. If she was here, she could contact Amanda, and Alex. Anshuman’s father and Krish were in India, so she wouldn’t be of much help there. Instead, she should stay here and pursue Liz’s husband to follow up Anshuman’s case and ask him to help them.

Manasvi finally decided and firmly declared, “No, I’ll stay here. Maybe your husband needs more information about Anshuman. You are leaving for France next week. I don’t want Hamid bhai to forget us.”

Liz smiled, “He won’t forget.”

“Still I want to stay.”

“To pressurize him?” Liz patted her hand jovially, to relax her.

It made Manasvi smile. She sighed. “Yes. Kind of.”

Manasvi might have smiled but deep down she knew that it was nearly an impossible task for an office in Afghanistan to get Anshuman freed. She knew Hamid could request and inquire, but will they leave Anshuman on his appeal? Will they??

She knew that it was a far-fetched hope but she had no other option left. She had to hold on to the last thread of hope, no matter how fragile it was.

……………………………….

At night, Manasvi was deep asleep when she woke up with a loud sound of blast, almost piercing through her ear drums. The sound was followed by large uproar, noise of people screaming, shrieks and cries. And then, it was the same familiar burning smell that diffused through the windows into the room.

For a moment, it felt that she was dreaming. But she was not. She jumped down from her bed and coughing through her way, she opened the window to see outside. The small eatery behind the hotel was in fumes now. People rushed to bring the dead and injured out of the rubble. Some screamed to search for their loved ones and some queued up to throw water and sand to douse the fire.

Manasvi closed the window and sat down on the floor, huddled together in a small bundle, trying to get rid of the goosebumps, reminding her of the childhood, and teenage she had spent with this noise and chaos.

Surprisingly, even after years had passed, the situation still remained similar. For one reason or the other, some people found it so easy to kill innocent people just to make their voices be heard.

This was the value of a living, breathing human life.

…………………………….

Two days had passed and Anshuman was drowning deeper in the ocean of despair, with no hopes to revive his faith.

He had heard stories about people rotting in jails for years without any hearing. Not even in his weirdest dreams, he had ever imagined his fate to meet him like this. Making him a part of those lost stories.

He couldn’t sleep for two nights, he didn’t eat well, he couldn’t stay calm. He had spent restless nights in underground bunkers for days but none was as scary as this.
He wished he could meet his parents once and thanked them for everything they had done for him. His dadi, his sister Preksha, his friends… and most of all, Manasvi.

If he ever knew that he was going to be suddenly stuck at a place, never to meet them again, he would have said his goodbye in a better way – thanking each of them for their presence in his life, telling them how much he loved them, asking them to move on without him.

Junaid Khan came to knock on the bars of his cell. His face was drawn and saddened. Anshuman was sitting on the floor of the cell. He didn’t move this time. He simply turned to throw a glance at Junaid and sighed, “I knew it.”

Junaid thrust his hands in his jacket and paced before his cell. Anshuman said, “They refused to file official request of release, right?”

Junaid tried to be hopeful. “For now, yes. But that doesn’t mean end of story. They have not refused as such. They haven’t replied, so it is considered as refusal. They will be given more time. There are more such cases like you. Your name will be sent again with them. Maybe next time, you get lucky.”

Anshuman had a lopsided smirk on his lips. A sad, sly of a smirk. Who knew government official works better than him. Even when genuine, they took years. Here, his entire history and past records were confusing. Who will take responsibility on his behalf?

For now, his story had indeed ended.

Junaid said, “We have to go.”

“Where?” Anshuman asked.

“We can’t keep you here in lock-up for long. We were questioning you so for the time being, you were in police custody. Now, for longer duration, you will be sent to Sindh Jail, until some decision is taken for you. Tomorrow, we will take your judicial custody.”

Anshuman stood up, visibly despondent and miserable. He ran his fingers in his ruffled hair to push them away from his forehead and closed his eyes, before taking a deep breath. He threw a glance at himself in the glass window of the police station. The man in the reflection wasn’t him. He couldn’t recognise himself. So many days in transit and travel had his beard and moustache grow more than he had ever let them grow. He had lost weight and he looked more frail than before. His eyes were sunken inside the hollow around them with a tinge of darkness increasing his sullen look. His face was sadder and disheartened.

His attention was distracted towards the small TV set running news in one corner. There had been a blast in Kabul. An eatery near Metropolitan hotel had been blown by insurgents. Nearly ten people had died, including three women and two children.

Anshuman froze when he heard the news. Deeply worried and anxious for Manasvi. He hoped Manasvi was fine. He wished he could talk to her.

Junaid saw him focused on the news, he came to him and said, “I want to tell you something.”

“What?”

Junaid gave Anshuman’s phone to him, and said, “I was going through your phone. There were some messages from your wife. Sorry, I had to read them. She had sent pictures of a cab and possibly a driver. Maybe to stay on a safer side. Or maybe someone is harassing her.”

“What!” Anshuman was dumbfounded.

“You said she is alone in Kabul. It is not that safe for women to roam around alone. Though, in the message on the next day, she had written that she has booked ticket for India for tomorrow. So, that means she is safe. But still… as this blast happened last night. Ask her if she is fine…”

Anshuman wet his dried lips by running his tongue over the lower lips and took the phone to dial a call to Manasvi. He scrolled through her messages with a racing heart beat.

Manasvi was in the hotel room when her phone rang. She was almost startled when she read the name. Her tears flew down as she answered him, and broke down when she spoke in rapid sentences, “Anshuman, oh my God, is it you? Finally, they let you make a call… how are you?… are you fine?… I was so so so worried about you…”

“Are you fine?” He asked, ignoring all her questions of his whereabouts, almost interrupting her. He was extremely worried about her and he couldn’t wait to know if she was safe in the hotel. “I received a few messages… and a picture of cab driver…”

One sentence from him and she felt like she was home. His voice, his words, his presence on the other side of the call was so soothing, it was like a balm on her scars.

She wiped her tears and spoke in composed sentences this time. “Those messages – don’t worry about them, I sent them to everyone I know – to be on the safer side…”
“Was someone harassing you?”
“Yeah… but it was a small thing… I clicked the pictures, sent to few people and called the cops.”

He winced in agony, “Cops? Did they help you? Manasvi, please stay safe and take meticulous care when you are alone… you know how it is…”
“Anshuman, nothing bad happened.” Manasvi stressed on her words to relieve him. “I made few friends here and they helped me a lot. And I kept sending messages to you about everything so that you know where I am if you happen to get hold of your phone.”

“You are safe, right?” He asked again, to be sure and to relieve the chaos in his mind.

“Yes. I’m safe… But what about you? Are they treating you well?”

“Yes. As of now, I’m fine.”

“Krish, tells me that the Indian government…”

“Yes, I heard about that.”

“But you don’t worry. My friend’s husband is in the Ministry here. He has assured me that he will go out of his way to get you released. His close friend is a high official in Pakistan and he has some strong contacts there. He will request in his own capacity…”

Anshuman was not even interested. He knew how different governments, their official protocols, and especially diplomatic relations worked. They didn’t work on relationships and requests. He sighed, “Your safety is my prime priority, right now. I read your message that you are going to India tomorrow. Travel safely and for some time, stay with mom dad if you are feeling lonely.”

“I’m not going to India, tomorrow.” She said impulsively.

“What!!!” He couldn’t believe what he heard. Was this girl insane?

“I can’t go. Liz’s husband, Hamid bhai has assured that he will do something. Now that one road is closed, we have to try all options…”

“Listen, Manasvi…” Anshuman didn’t know what to tell her. This girl was stubborn. She was staying back to ensure that he was released. It was not even possible, according to him. And even if it was, it would take weeks, months, maybe years. How could she simply stay back in Kabul, relying on a faint hope that some stranger was going to help her.

“Anshuman, you listen… I can do nothing in India. They have already refused. Krish and uncle are there… they will try their best… but I can stay here… and…”

No…no…no… he couldn’t let her be there! Anshuman was panic stricken. So much that it made him very angry.

“Will. You. Shut. Up?” Anshuman yelled at her loudly, without realising that he was in lockup himself. For this moment, nothing else mattered than her. And it seemed nearly impossible to convince her to go back. She was hell bent on spoiling her life for him. His heart was racing hard, as he spoke gritting his teeth. With a clenched jaw, he  shouted once again, “Just shut up and listen to me…PLEASE!!”

Manasvi squirmed. She hadn’t imagined Anshuman to lose his cool. He appeared so angry. So much so that he scared her. Anshuman could feel her apprehension in her silence. He didn’t mean to scare her.

He sighed and took a deep breath, before he spoke calmly, one word at a time. “Manasvi, listen to me, please.”

“I’m listening.”

“The Chief had called and validated my identity. They know him. They also caught the driver who had stolen my passport and my documents. They know that I am innocent.”

“Really?” Her smile tore through her tears, warming her heart and her entire soul. What he was saying appeared unbelievable. Why was he telling it so late? Why didn’t he tell this to her before? Will they free him now?

Anshuman knew her questions. He knew what she was thinking. He leaned by the bars in his cell and said in a calm, serious voice, “Yes, they know that I am innocent and now, they have decided to free me. So, you don’t need to stay back in Kabul and struggle alone for my release. Take the flight for India and leave tomorrow. Do you get that?”

He crossed his fingers, constantly praying that she trusted him, believed his words and left Kabul tomorrow. It was very important for him. It was important for her safety and his peace of mind. He couldn’t imagine her running from pillar to post, alone, in an unknown country asking people to help her. With people like the cab driver harassing her and the blasts happening frequently, how was she even planning to stay safe.

Manasvi was still unable to believe it. This is was the biggest news she could get. She had wanted nothing more than Anshuman’s release. As if all her desires, wishes, and ambitions had melted to form this one wish of a lifetime. Just for him to be free.

“Anshuman, I’m so so happy… but why didn’t you tell me before? I was so worried…”

He sighed, and spoke on a hurting throat, “To be honest, I’m drained. Tired and exhausted. You know how it has been since years. Since my childhood, when I was maybe 3 or 4 years – all I have seen is disturbance and disruption – blasts, killings, poverty, hunger, noise, unrest – everywhere the same – in Kabul, in Kashmir, while working in PBB, in Iraq, in Syria – the same – the bombings, the faulty system, the pain, the torture, the bloodshed, the dead bodies, fumes suffocating the bronchii, the burning smell, broken ribs, hurt legs… there is no end… and I’m tired. I know I can’t make a difference and there is no point in trying anymore. I want to live my life now… a life away from all this nonsense. A rosy, beautiful life filled only with brightness, colours, happiness, and peace.”

Manasvi heard him patiently. Trying to understand what he was trying to say. She had often thought of a life like that. He did make sense. It was not unusual for a person to look for make-believe world after a bitter dose of reality. He had had enough of reality for which he had suffered for long. It was fine to wish for happiness forever.

She was so lost in listening to his deeply agonising description that she didn’t even consider that he was showing her an image that existed only in his words. There was no reality to it. His magic worked and she believed him.

He continued, “Am I wrong in asking for a better future?”

“No!” She sighed, and whispered.

“Will you be happy for me if I wanted to go away from this mayhem? This havoc is killing me. Can I hope for a life where I can forget my previous life? Every single day of my past? Including PBB?”

Her throat choked. He was asking for a life away from everything that reminded him of his past. Did it include her?

He didn’t wait for her reply, and said, “Manasvi, I didn’t tell you before because I didn’t want to hurt you. I feel guilty and it was killing me. But you insisted on staying back so I had to tell you. Please go back to India. I will be free in a day or two, and…”

“And?” She asked with trembling lips. Her goosebumps made her shudder, her spine stiffened, and her neck hurt.
She wanted the best for him and she could do anything for him, this was clear to her since years. She always knew that she could go to any lengths to ensure that he was happy. If his happiness meant going away from her, she was prepared for that too. All she wanted was for him to be happy, and free.
The fact that she had fallen in love with him was an unnecessary complication and she could deal with it. They could go back a few years, like she had wished for, and begin things where they didn’t even know each other.

He was not in love with her, she knew that. It was clear that he might have been carried away by the difficult situations in past few days and felt emotionally drawn to her, but only momentarily. She was not his love. She had never been. It was her one-sided feeling and she had to deal with it on her own.

Still, somewhere in the deepest corners of her heart, a teeny-tiny hope against hope grew, wishing to hear a happy twist that he would speak after her ‘and’ … that he would join her in India…  or that he would take her with him to a faraway land where they began a new life together. They could escape this pain together.

But he said nothing like that. He didn’t intend to. He murmured disinterestedly.

“And… I have different plans.”

……………………………………………..

I know this phase is sad and depressing. I haven’t been able to write faster and so it has stretched for days.
Apologies.

But what is life without the worst of downfalls and peaks of glories
And what is a story without a roller coaster ride.
Love you for staying by me through this. 

……………………..

Sitting around the round coffee table in Liz’s studio, Manasvi browsed through the various sites opened her laptop, to book a ticket for New Delhi.

She didn’t want to go back to the hotel for now. She didn’t have the heart to. Nor she felt like returning to the cold, silent room. It brought bad thoughts and panic.
So, when Liz offered her a cup of coffee at her studio, Manasvi gladly agreed. They talked about several things. Manasvi’s education and job, life in Mumbai, and about journalism.
Manasvi observed the beautifully decorated studio, the designer dresses, exquisitely embroidered and embellished in sequins and lace.

After some time, Manasvi opened the laptop to book the ticket.
At the same time, she decided to contact a Human Rights Commission and a lawyer in Karachi for Anshuman as things were getting delayed and it made her nervous. Liz told her that she would request her husband to contact the lawyer and NGO, in case she needed help.

Asfiya arranged the couture gowns on a long stand meant for the same. She worked for Liz and her parents had allowed her to go out of the home to work if she was with Elizabeth and in her studio. As Elizabeth sold only women’s clothes, it was a safe place for women to go, both for shopping and working.

The wooden doors of Elizabeth’s studio cast a perfect barrier to shut away a world outside, a world that wasn’t kind to women. Inside those doors, the story was different. Inside, it was their domain, their choice, their life!

Manasvi sipped from her coffee that one of the assistant served her, and said, “I’m getting a flight, for Saturday. Delhi is not far, anymore.”
A satisfied, yet nervous sigh escaped her lips. For some weird reason, she was hopeful that she might be able to do something for Anshuman after she reached Delhi. She would beg before the authorities to help him. She would do anything in her capacity to see to it that he was out of the bars.
He had gone there because of her and she couldn’t live with this burden that he was trapped because of her. And despite that he had ensured that she received her papers in time.

All that Anshuman had done for her, at every step, every phase of her life, had been instrumental in shaping the arc of her existence.
She was what she was, because of him. She was strong and independent, because of him. In fact, she was alive, because of him.

She had come to Afghanistan on her own, hoping to sort out the matter of citizenship and passport. But Anshuman followed her and stood by her through every step. Today, she had all certificates, and her passport. She was going back to India.
But where was Anshuman?
He had to sacrifice his freedom for her.

She couldn’t let anything happen to him, no matter what it took from her. She would go to any lengths to see him safe, sound, and happy.

Liz and Asfiya were both glad. Liz said, “Saturday is two days from now.”
“Yeah! The flights before that are all booked.”
“No problem. These two days will pass soon. You stay with us until then.” Liz offered.

Manasvi refused, “Oh no! Please don’t bother. I’ll go back to the hotel once the sun sets.”

Liz raised her hands in air and smiled, “Sure, you won’t be scared?”

Manasvi nodded, “Once inside the hotel, I feel pretty safe. I hope those guys give up on their search for me.”

“Don’t worry! It’s only 2 days.”

“Yeah!” Manasvi sighed.

“Do you know, even we are leaving for France next week?” Asfiya said.

“Really?” Manasvi was glad to see Asfiya beaming in happiness.

Liz nodded, “Yes! We are opening a new store in Milan. Once it sets in action and the operations begin, we will have more work in my native place and I will freely commute. I’m bored living here. I miss France.”

“I understand.” Manasvi murmured. It was indeed tough for a French to adjust to Afghan way of living. Liz had managed until now, was commendable. They told her that Asfiya will stay in France after that. She wanted this allocation because even of her parents understood her decision to have a career, her extended family wanted to see her married this year.

Manasvi booked the ticket for New Delhi, for Saturday. She called Krish to inform him. He was overjoyed. He had been missing her too.

“First tell me, are you safe?” Krish was suddenly reminded of her message. “I saw the pictures of the driver that you sent me, along with the car number and all… sorry, I was in the hospital. I saw them just today and wondered what it was all about.”

Manasvi relieved him, “Yes, I am safe. I just sent them to be on a safer side that you have a proof about who I am with. That driver was trying to act nasty with me.”

“All sorted? Or…??” Krish asked.

“Everything fine. Leave that aside, I’m fine and coming back on Saturday.”

“That’s the best news I’ve heard today.”

“How’s your mother?” She asked.

“She is fine now. She was admitted in a hospital for 2 days but now she is discharged. Weakness and blood pressure, along with some cardiac issues, the doctors say!”

“Hmm! Take care of her. Mothers are precious.” Manasvi murmured softly, remembering her own mother and how ill she had been during the last few years of her life.

“Yes. They are precious. Thank you.”

“Take care. I’ll see you after I come to Mumbai.”

“Great. Mr. Mehta cannot wait to see you. He is mighty impressed with the way you have handled the Afghanistan trip, managed every dire situation. He says that he is privileged to have someone like you in the team.”

Manasvi was surprised. “Really?”

“Yes. When you come back, we have a line-up of possible new roles that you take up in the team. We want to see you in leadership roles.”

Manasvi smiled, “And here I was thinking that I might have lost the job.”

“No way. You are a journalist who doesn’t do her job. She lives it. You have a rich experience. You are brave. You understand the situation and the socio-geographic-politics of so many countries. Which organisation will let you leave?”

“I’m honoured.”

“Hey! I wanted to tell you something,” Krish said, “Next week, I’m going to Vienna for a conclave on climate change. The Insight has exclusive rights to interview the speakers/leaders from all over the world. Would you come?”

Manasvi said, “Krish, you are forgetting that Anshuman is in jail. I can’t go anywhere as long as he is in captivity. I can’t leave any stone unturned unless I get him out of the bars.”

Krish explained patiently, “Manasvi, what can you possibly do? Meet the ministers and plead to them? We are doing that already. All applications are in process. I went to every office myself. Anshuman’s dad goes there twice a day. They don’t even give appointment to talk. Mr.Mehta is personally monitoring his case only because of you.”

“I know! But…”

“But it is not in our hands. These things take time. You know how governments work. The file gets shifted up in due course of time. They are investigating his case and whether they can officially ask for his release.”

Manasvi frowned, “I feel so helpless.”

“All of us do. But we can’t stop working. We can’t stop living.”

Manasvi wished to tell him that she had stopped living the moment she heard that Anshuman was captured. He was in jail, suffering what she doesn’t even know. How could her life, go on smoothly? She had stopped living the moment Anshuman left her in Kabul. She was desperately waiting for him to be back now. Desperately waiting for her life, her breaths, her heartbeats to return to her. At this moment, she was merely existing. Just being there, as if in a daze, without him.

But she didn’t tell him. Krish will never understand.

She just said, “Give me some time, Krish. I’m coming home on Saturday. I’ll decide what I want to do after I take rest for some time. But I am definitely not going to Vienna. Or anywhere else.

“Okay! Take your time.” Krish disconnected, wondering if Anshuman would ever be freed. And will Manasvi will ever be able to work like before. Her concentration, her heart, her life was now tugged to Anshuman.

…………………….

Junaid Khan said, “See, we all know that you were not lying. And that you are innocent. But some things are to be done according to the protocol and the guidelines. I have full confidence in justice. Allah never fails the innocent. You will get justice. And we are waiting for the same.”

Anshuman kept sitting on the jail floor. He looked at Junaid pointedly and said, “Your government wants to prove to the United Nations and the world that they are benevolent and nice and they let an innocent man go, but for that they will need to create a noise to the world that I am here, right?”

Junaid shrugged, “There is no harm in gaining some brownie points from a situation. In all honesty, if we let you go, it WILL be an act of generosity and kindness. It will be humane. So I have full faith that you will be freed.”

Anshuman nodded to refuse, his voice lowering, “But I don’t.”

“Why?” Junaid was surprised.

“You are too hopeful. There is a clause here. IF, AT ALL, the Indian government requests for my release, they will do so, right? Deep down, I’m sure that they won’t.”

“How can you say so?”

“They will investigate. I haven’t lived in India for last several years. No one knows where I was. Only PBB does. Who will convince the officials in India to request for my release. They will wonder if I was a real spy associated with an insurgent group. Why will they risk their reputation for one ambiguous PBB doctor.”

Juanid jumped down from the desk that he was sitting on, in the Police HQ. He rested his hands in his pockets and spoke confidently, “Don’t be so negative. We will find a way. We have a sent a letter about your arrest to MEA of India. Let’s wait for their response.”

Anshuman shook his head, “I’ve lost all hope.”

“My ammi says that every breath we take is a blessing from God. As long as we are breathing, let the hope stay alive.”

………………………………..

I try to reply to as many people as I can. If I haven’t replied to you, apologies.  I must have been caught in work, commitments etc. 

Thank you for all the support. Lots of love to all of you 💖💖💖

………………………………………….

“We will wait for an official request from government of India to release you.” Junaid Khan said.

“Whattt!”

Anshuman couldn’t believe what he had just heard. Did ACP Junaid Khan really speak what he had been fearing?
Anshuman had been apprehensive about it for long. He had heard stories about how certain people caught in a foreign land spent years behind bars before they were proved innocent. But this wasn’t even the case here.
He was proved innocent and there was valid evidence to verify all that he had spoken and claimed. Yet, they were not releasing him. They were waiting for the government to claim that he was Indian citizen and request them officially to release him.

The relationship between the two countries didn’t give him much hope. It was a dire situation.

He shook his head disbelievingly and reminded Junaid, “Didn’t you say that I will be treated fairly? Now, that you know that I am innocent, you have proofs too, is it fair to detain me?”

Junaid nodded and replied, “No, it isn’t fair. Trust me. I’ll try my level best to get your case expedited.”

“Try?” Anshuman murmured, losing all his hopes, slowly and gradually. He was banking on his documents, PBB chief, every proof from visa office, and Manasvi’s school. He was sure that these were enough to prove the reason of his visit and that he was not a spay. Now every proof was in ACP’s hands and was in favour of Anshuman.
There was nothing more to hold on to. Anshuman went back inside the cell, where he was sitting previously, on the floor, with his head dropped in uncertainty and hopelessness.

He knew, he had to wait. For how long, he didn’t know.

…………………………

Manasvi lay back on the bed of her hotel room. She hadn’t eaten anything since morning. First the incident with the cab driver had her shaking. And then there was no breakthrough in Anshuman’s case.

Everyone she had laid her hopes on expressed inability to move ahead due to some reason or the other. No one could help them. Neither Krish nor Mr. Mehta. Neither Anshuman’s dad nor the Chief. Alex, Amanda, no one.
It seemed as if the entire world was helpless.

She had gone to Elizabeth’s fashion studio before she was dropped by her safely to the hotel. Inside the studio, there was a different world – of fashion, clothes, style, choices and desires, frills and flounces, colours and shades. Elizabeth believed in bringing out the brighter side of every situation and Manasvi loved her approach.

Elizabeth was a French designer, living in Afghanistan, out of choice. It wasn’t easy. It must have come with a lot of struggle and persistence to stay in a different country, more conservative than yours, accept and appreciate their culture, and then dare to open a business. Drive a car. Move around on your own.
Each chore that seemed easy and casual in some countries was a fight women fought on an everyday basis in many parts of the world. Elizabeth must have faced ridicule and disbelief too.
But love made her cross the threshold. Beyond every fear, fight, and struggle.

There existed different people in the world. All kinds of human beings with their own set of beliefs and ideologies. They had their own stories of tenacity and perseverance. They braved different battles for love.
Elizabeth’s story gave hope to Manasvi.

Anshuman and Manasvi belonged to two different worlds too, and yet they were so similar. Their stories coincided and merged together. As if they were destined to be. As if they were made for each other. How could it be explained otherwise!
They could hope for a happy ending too. They deserved it.

She couldn’t lose hope. That was all she had.
She knew, she had to wait. The following morning would surely bring some good news.

……………………

Morning arrived with terrible headache shearing her scalp as if it would split in two. Not having proper food on the previous day and not sleeping well did that to her.

Manasvi had her breakfast in the room and took a pain killer to be able to get ready. She had to collect her passport today. It was ‘the’ most important chore right now. A passport was the power which would enable her to stay back, or leave for India, on choice. Not on any compulsion.

When she stepped out towards the foyer, she spotted the cab driver, she had complained against, yesterday. He looked anxious, peering around nervously, though standing far from the hotel driveway, but Manasvi recognised him. She didn’t forget people easily.

What should she do at this stage?
Fighting with him, complaining against him, confronting him, so many things came to her mind but she was drained out of her energy. She didn’t need any drama for now. He was obviously not alone. He might have a gang. Maybe a nexus with human traffickers. Should she go all out to expose him?

No. She would have done that in India or wherever her office was, where she had access to support. She was a journalist, after all.
But journalists should have brain too, she argued with herself. They should know what is and what is not in their scope. She had no one here. For how long, would she be able to survive after putting up a fight and not winning it? What were the chances that the police and system would believe and favour her?
Human traffickers had high contacts. What would happen if a powerful official was involved and she was trapped without anyone to rescue her.

She kept arguing with herself as she walked back into the hotel. Her brave side, the one who fought for right and truth, the one who was a journalist was upset with her weaker side, who wanted to hide inside her room and search for a refuge.
She remembered how they had to run away in the middle of the night, and then cross borders several times, amidst chaos and bloodshed.

All her confidence melted away and she realised that she was shivering by the time she reached her room. She bolted the door tightly from inside and sat huddled in a corner.

She was trapped. And so was Anshuman.

……………………

She hadn’t slept for the entire night. After she slipped inside her quilt over the cozy bed, she trembled for a long time before drifting to sleep.

When she woke up, it was already 2:00 pm.
Manasvi could feel her tears, dried and sticking on her cheek. Her body ached because she had been too stiff to sleep well.

She hated to feel sick. She had behaved courageously in front of that scoundrel yesterday and she didn’t know what was the source of that confidence. She had spent her life dealing with creepy men.
But today, deep down she was scared. Maybe because of lack of energy. Or maybe, fear of unknown.

She dialled a call to Elizabeth.

“Liz, he is here.”
“See, I told you, right? I knew he would. Not only him but his entire creepy gang must be around. Now that they know that you are alone, they will try their best to get you.”
“Should I call the police?” Manasvi weighed the options. Police had done nothing much yesterday. They didn’t even drop her back safely. She had to ride with Liz.

“Forget it. Take your passport and book an earliest flight to India. That’s the only way you will escape them. There is no point in staying here for more.”

“I’m thinking about the same. I should go back to India. To avoid these guys. And to see, if I can do something for Anshuman.”

“Yes. You won’t be able to do much sitting here. Anyway, you met people you wanted to search for. It’s time to go back.” Liz said with concern.

Manasvi had shared with her that she had stayed back alone to meet and search for some old relatives of her and Anshuman. Most of Anshuman’s story, Liz had guessed from Manasvi’s frantic calls to Krish, and others.

“But how do I get my passport?” Manasvi said. “They are outside.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll come to pick you up. Be ready in an hour.”

“Won’t they recognise me? Won’t you be at risk for helping me?” Manasvi was worried.

Liz smiled, “Relax. I’ll bring a friend with me and bring a chador for you. All three of us will move out covered head to toe. No one will stop or bother us. No one will recognise.”

……………………

An hour later, Liz did as she had promised. She had brought a chador for Manasvi. She helped her wear it. Her other friend, Asfiya, an Afghan woman in her thirties, found it an adventure. She shared with Manasvi how she was rescued by police when the car in which they were transporting her after kidnapping met with an accident.

“You were kidnapped?” Manasvi nearly shrieked, adjusting her attire and trying to walk in it so that it appeared natural.

“Yes.”

“From where?”

“From my school bus. They just stopped the bus and took away four of us. But the car toppled after an accident as the driver lost control, we were rescued by police, and our parents got us back.”

Manasvi felt grateful that she was saved in time. She thanked God and took a deep breath. The three woman casually walked out of the hotel, sat in Liz’s car and left for the office of MEA to collect Manasvi’s passport.

Manasvi collected her passport and couldn’t stop her tears trickling down from her eyes. Liz and Asfiya felt like godsent angels to her. Overwhelmed, she hugged them.

Sometimes, you live with people for years and yet you don’t feel any connection with them. On the other times, you meet someone and within moments they feel like family. Liz and Asfiya were those angels for Manasvi.

She closed her eyes and prayed as her tears didn’t stop streaming.

‘God, please send an angel for Anshuman, too! Please!’

……………………….

Next Update – Tomorrow, ie 16.12.2020

Thanks for reading 🤗💖

As promised in my last My Corner post – The Fortnight That It Was

I will be posting new updates of BEB on Every Tuesday. So here, it is.
I’m trying to get back to the schedule mode😊 It is easier for me to maintain a deadline and peaceful for you so that you know when to expect the update.

Thank you so much for all the love to this story.  You are the reason I am posting it here 💖💖

Love you all.  Take care 🤗🤗🤗

…………………………………..

 

The man talking to Manasvi in a derogatory manner was taken aback at being snapped at. Before this he had gotten away with passing snide remarks carelessly about women. Before this women ignored his mannerlessness to avoid unnecessary altercation. Maybe that resulted in his guts to swell up and spew venom on any woman he came in contact with.
After Manasvi’s retort, he sheepishly looked around and stayed quiet.

Men and women, both officials and visitors, were attracted to the little spat and suddenly everyone was looking at them. They included Afghan citizens, and several foreigners who had come for correction in their passports, or Tazkira, or other official work. One of them was Elizabeth, who was particularly interested in the clash as she was immediately impressed by Manasvi’s voice and defiant tone.

The officer in-charge stepped ahead in the meantime, and scolded the offender, “What’s your issue buddy? Don’t make things difficult here.”

The man cleared his throat and disinterestedly mouthed a formal apology. “Sorry!”

Manasvi didn’t want to stretch the conversation. So she ended it, saying, “It’s okay. But I am very much a citizen of Afghanistan. I have every right to ask for respect. I may ask for a change when something that doesn’t guarantee safety for me. And even if I was a tourist, your responsibilities don’t decrease. They increase. Isn’t it up to you to ensure safety of women around you? On top of that, you are government officials. Where will we go if officers behave like rogues?”

She was not fighting or shouting at any moment. She spoke in a polite, yet offended tone. She was firm and not weak. Yet she was neither yelling, nor pleading.

Something that impressed everyone. Especially Elizabeth. The officer in charge apologised too and said, “Sorry again, on behalf of my staff. Your documents are completed. It will take a few hours to issue the passport. You can pick it up any time after tomorrow.”

Manasvi thanked the officer. He left Manasvi in the visitors lounge after that.

Elizabeth approached Manasvi, with a hand stretched towards her for a hand-shake, “Hello! Seems like you are new here. I’m Elizabeth. You can call me Liz. May I help you?”

Manasvi liked her friendly attitude, offer for help and lovely polite tone. She was a tall, white woman, with wavy blonde hair and green eyes, her lips were naturally pink and she was wearing a strong perfume. She was clad in a long kurta, with full sleeves, stretching almost till her ankles. Below the kurta was denim jeans, visible through the side slits of the kurta. Black boots and a hijab covering her hair and her head completed her look.

“Hello, I’m Manasvi Rathore. Thanks for the offer, but the police has been called.”

The woman looked around her and asked, “Are you alone? There is no one with you?”

Manasvi felt uneasy with this question. Already she was having a tough time in this country, persistent reminder that she was alone was a constant hammering of nails in her patience level. She wished she could hold on for more. And once again, with a smile on her lips, she nodded, “Yes.”

Elizabeth understood her problem and said, “Don’t worry. I am harmless.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you.” Manasvi was apologetic. Then, she explained to her that she was from India and was here for renewal of her passport and how a cab driver had tried to act nasty with her.

“They are like that, when they see a woman alone. Afghanistan is notorious for being dangerous for women.”

“I know. I’m trying to take all precautions.”

In the meanwhile, the cops arrived. The driver had already fled from the scene. He disappeared before the cops arrived and called his associates for a change in strategy. He wasn’t able to get Manasvi with him. So the cops found nothing. They took Manasvi’s statement and asked her to inform in case someone troubles them. Azfar too called back to know if all was well with Manasvi. Manasvi confirmed that she was fine.

Elizabeth was looking at her in awe. She sighed, “Oh my God! You speak Persian?”

“I do!” Manasvi grinned.

“How?” Elizabeth asked.

“It’s a long story.” Manasvi tried to brush it off.

“That is why you are able to manage so well. So smoothly.”

“Well… I’m just trying to.”

“And you’ve come from India?” Liz rolled her eyes, “Look at me, I’m here for 10 years and still can’t speak fluent Dari. It’s broken… I kinda manage…”

“10 years?” Manasvi was surprised. She didn’t expect this European woman to say that she was living in Afghanistan for 10 years. At best, she looked like a tourist. Moreover, she was alone too.

“Yeah. I’m French, married to an Afghan man. My husband is an official in the ministry. I came here to get some papers signed.”

It was fascinating for Manasvi to hear that. There were all sorts of people in the world, with unique stories, special love stories, different types of marriages. She was pleased to meet Liz.

“Come, I’ll take you to the hotel.”

“Please don’t bother. I’ll take a cab.”

“The cab driver must be lurking around nearby, hoping to catch you unawares. You can’t trust any cab driver at this moment. They might be connected to him.”

Manasvi squirmed. There were high chances that what Liz as saying was true. But then, she met this lady only few minutes ago, how can she trust her. Wasn’t it too early to trust someone? But what options she had in hand, anyway?
This one looked more reliable than any cab driver. If she had to choose between the two, and since there was no other way out, she would choose Liz.

“Okay!” Manasvi spoke in a low, reluctant voice.

Liz smiled, and took out a card from her purse. Giving it to Manasvi, she said, “Trust me, I will try my best to help you. Once I was like you in this country – alone, confused, scared… I know the pain.”

Manasvi read the card – Elizabeth Martin Sayed – Fashion Designer.
It had her full address and phone number. Manasvi was relieved as she firmly clutched the card in her fist.

Liz filled her with the information written on the visiting card, as they walked out of the building of MEA, towards the parking, “Martin is my parental surname that I didn’t want to leave. Sayed is my husband’s last name. I’m a Fashion Designer and I have a fashion studio in the central market of Kabul.”

“Fashion studio?” Manasvi smiled. She had started liking Elizabeth a lot. Such a strong woman. She moved around the city, drove an SUV, owned a Fashion Studio and was empowered enough to help others.

Liz started driving the big SUV vehicle and said, “Don’t look at the chador and the hijab. Beneath that, Afghanis was extremely fashionable. It is an extremely conservative society but women do know how to make the best of their lives. I have some dresses to pick up from my studio. I have to deliver them to a place near your hotel. If you permit…”

“Sure. No problem.” The journalist in Manasvi was intrigued. She had explored so much of Afghanistan that now she wanted to write a story on it. This was a totally different facet and she was curious to know more. Liz took a turn towards central Kabul.

Manasvi checked her phone for any message from Anshuman. Her throat dried. She called Krish who told her that he had been trying every single source to get access to the MEA at New Delhi. But they were not sure if they wanted to take up Anshuman’s case on a national level. They didn’t send him and didn’t want to cut a sorry figure on international level, in case he was linked to insurgent outfits. So they had their own procedure of investigation before they went ahead and asked for his release.
Anshuman’s father also confirmed the same thing. The officials in the ministry had asked them to wait as it was a sensitive issue and they wouldn’t initiate any official request for Anshuman’s release unless they investigated and confirmed that he was innocent.

Manasvi felt her heart sinking. The Indian government had it’s own protocol to follow and that was absolutely justified, giving the threats and insurgency from small groups, they faced on a regular basis. They didn’t want to take a chance by representing someone they didn’t know and was associated with any crime.

Manasvi smiled meekly, looking at Elizabeth. It was a pity that almost everyone she had met knew the problems she was facing. Her phone calls spoke of her issues and she couldn’t avoid them. She had always been vulnerable and insecure but not to this extent.

She called the Chief of the PBB but his number was out of reach. Manasvi called Amanda and Alex, both one by one, and then on conference call, and nearly begged them to get in touch with the Chief. Only he could save Anshuman. He had contacts in Pakistan and he had ensured Anshuman’s visa on the last moment.
Amanda told her that Chief was at some place in Africa and even they weren’t in touch with him. But they will try their best to get in touch with him.

“Please! You can do that. Contact all PBB centers in Africa, or wherever. He needs to be found to save Anshuman.” Manasvi wiped her tear that dropped from her eyes.
“We’ll ensure that Anshuman is released in next 24 hours. We’ll get Chief from wherever he is.”
“Thank you!” Manasvi’s throat choked. She disconnected the phone.

Liz took out tissue-paper box from the dashboard and gave it to Manasvi. Manasvi pulled out a paper to wipe her face, feeling awkward.

“I’m sorry… actually…”
“I understood the issue. Don’t bother explaining about it. It is a regular case in this part of the world.”

Manasvi sighed and leaned at the backrest of the car. The moment life looked promising and hopeful was the one that acted as a turning point for yet another curvy road. It had been years since she had been hoping that finally her life will be on track and she will live happily like everyone else. But problems and hardships only increased.
She felt as if she was in a computer game. One level crossed would lead to another tougher level to beat.

She missed Anshuman a lot. They might not have spent a lot of time with each other. But still it felt that they had always been together. Whether they were around each other or miles apart, he never left her mind even for a second. He lived there and belonged like it was his own space.

………………………..

Junaid Khan knocked at the bars of the cell with the gun in his hand and called Anshuman who was sitting in a corner, with his eyes fixed on the wall facing him.

Anshuman was lost in his thoughts – about life at PBB, how he needed to be back to PBB, because he missed seeing patients, operating on them, helping them – how he missed Manasvi, sorely and deeply, how she was alone in Afghanistan, and he needed to be with her. When he was freed from here, he was going to ask Manasvi to be with him forever. He might have been reluctant once, but now, trapped in this jail he realized what he needed to be peaceful in life – Manasvi, and her happiness. He would do everything she wanted from him. Wherever they went, they would go together. She may choose where she wanted to make a life and he would follow. He had struggled and fought with himself to an extent that he once thought that he didn’t deserve to be happy, didn’t deserve to live, didn’t have any right to spoil her life…but not anymore. He knew that life was precious and how it was important to cherish people you love when you are still able to do that. With a snap of a finger, life takes a sharp turn, leaving you regretting about decisions you didn’t take, things you didn’t do, confessions you didn’t make…

He was so lost that he didn’t notice Junaid. A screeching sound at the bars alarmed him.

Anshuman quickly stood up, hopeful that some breakthrough has happened in his case. He held the bars and asked Junaid. “Some news?”

Junaid sat down on his chair, chewing a gum in his mouth, and with a taut jaw and clenched face, he said, “Two good news and one bad news. What would you want to hear first?”

Anshuman said, “All I am waiting is for some good news. You have two of them. I think bad news can wait. Tell me the good ones.”

Juanid spoke on a grim, tensed face, “We’ve caught the taxi driver who stole your bag. He had your documents, passport, everything.”

Anshuman sighed in relief. With a genuine wide smile, he spoke excitedly, “Thank God! Now you know that I am innocent and I was speaking the truth?”

“Yes. Everything you spoke was true. The other good news is that your Chief just called us an hour back. He confirmed that you are associated with PBB and not a spy. You are a doctor who has worked with PBB for years!”

Anshuman couldn’t stop smiling. He was finally proven genuine. He shrugged, “So? Why am I still behind the bars?”

“That’s the ‘bad news’ part.” Junaid spoke in a low, dejected voice.

“What does that mean?”

“Secretary to the minister has asked me to hold on all proofs of your innocence and not submit them anywhere.”

“But why?”

“We will wait for an official request from government of India to release you.”

……………………………………

 

Anshuman disconnected the call and gave the phone to Junaid Khan, standing near the cell, unintentionally privy to the conversation he had with Manasvi.
He kept standing during the entire conversation because he couldn’t allow a loophole out of an emotional decision and mistakenly let Anshuman to make a call to someone suspicious. It was an important duty to keep a close check on Anshuman even when he had now started trusting Anshuman. He had been benevolent enough to let him make a call to his wife. Now he expected the same from Anshuman to not betray his trust.

Anshuman didn’t let him down. After a genuine call to Manasvi, he returned the phone. Junaid took the phone without speaking anything, at first, and then he subtly smiled. Anshuman smiled too.

Junaid couldn’t curb the inquisitive streak in him. The questions arising in his heart would seem to be natural for anyone in his position. Moreover, he was the ACP. So, he had to ask. He couldn’t stop too.

In quick sentences, one after the other, he bombarded all his questions like cannon balls fired in a row, “Is your wife from Afghanistan? Then, why did she study here, in Karachi? How did you get married to her? Where did you meet her?”

“It’s a long story.” Anshuman sighed.

Junaid tossed his keys on the table and folded his hands across his chest, “I’m not going home. Now, start…”

Anshuman started narrating his story from the point where he was studying medicine in Scotland and had come back home for a holiday. One fine day, he was told that he had to marry Manasvi for the sake of documents. He spoke about his life at PBB and how he mainly stayed out of India for working in disaster struck areas and also about Manasvi’s life, her struggles, the way she build up her life after coming to India and got herself educated, got a job, and couldn’t go to Paris because of the issues with her passport. How she had to go to Afghanistan for her birth certificate and a new passport.
He narrated almost everything.

It was late at night when he was still speaking. Junaid had asked the constable to get tea for them. Stirring sugar in his ginger tea, he asked, “Is she alone right now?”

“Yes.” Anshuman replied.

“I really hope she is fine.”

“I hope so, too.” Anshuman whispered. He could feel his heart pacing faster. He had no choice but to accept her assurance when Manasvi had said that she was safe in a high-end hotel, known for ensuring safety of travellers. But neither his heart trusted it nor his mind. He couldn’t stop worrying for her. She was alone and had no one to help her in case of an emergency. Every now and then, he found himself praying to God to keep her safe.

He requested Junaid to send her the necessary documents – her TC and conduct certificate – on her email, so that she could expedite the process of her passport.

………………

Manasvi woke up early. She hadn’t been sleeping well, anyway. The stress of Anshuman being in captivity had taken away all of her peace. The pressure of being in a new place was nothing as compared to that. She had heard so many negative things about the state of women in Afghanistan that she had been nervous, deep down in her heart.

Thankfully, that fear had been allayed by the trustworthy people she met and connected with, so far. And she was glad that she met a cab driver who was helping her go around so that she was not alone.

She prayed to God, as usual and checked her email. Her inbox had a new email with her documents. Quickly, she got ready and went downstairs to the hotel reception. She requested the staff to get her the print-outs of those documents so that she could submit them as requested by the MEA.

She wrapped her dupatta on her head, held the certificates firmly in her hand, and walked out of the hotel looking for the cab driver who had helped her a day before. He was waiting just near the hotel foyer, a few meters away from the entrance, and immediately came running towards Manasvi when he saw her stepping out of the hotel.

“Madam, the cab is there. I was waiting for you only.”

While Manasvi was deeply touched at his gesture, it confused her too. The driver was too eager to help and more excited and energetic than yesterday. More excited than normal.

Manasvi quietly sat down on the rear seat, feeling distinctly uneasy. Something was different from yesterday. It didn’t feel the same. Something was amiss. She asked the driver to take her to the MEA.

“MEA? Why??” The driver was shocked at the sudden change of plan.

WHY? Ideally, this was none of his business. She was not supposed to give every detail about her movement to a cab driver just because he was helping her. She was miffed at the way he questioned her. It appeared that the driver understood too. He had been taken off-guard so he reacted in that way. Quickly, he composed himself again and changed the tone.

“I mean…didn’t you say yesterday that we will go to the old city and search for an old hospital?”

“I did. But I need to go to MEA urgently, right now.”

“Okay. No problem. I’ll take you there, first.” The driver cleared his throat and tried to appear congenial and nice, all over again.

Manasvi was baffled, why she was feeling weird today. The driver’s body language, the look in his eyes, and the way he was talking to her was surely different from yesterday. She looked out of the window on her side but gave a quick sideward glance to him. The driver had been observing Manasvi through the rearview mirror. After a mile’s drive, he dialled a call and quickly ended it within few seconds, and few words, saying, “Err… the programme is a bit changed… keep it for an hour later… I’ll call you.” After that, he disconnected.

All her life, from a very young age, there was one thing that Manasvi had strongly relied on – her sixth sense and her natural ability to read people. She had nurtured and grown this ability by conscious thoughtfulness and by listening to her instincts.
At all times, without fail.
And today, her instincts said that something was different. And this change was not favourable to her.

She got down at the MEA and told the driver, “You go from here. It will take a lot of time.”

The driver insisted, “It’s okay. I’ll wait.”

Manasvi was now sure that he was behaving a bit fishy. She said, “It might take long.”

“No problem. I’m here. Anyway, you don’t know anyone in this country. I can’t leave you alone.” He was so firm and intimidating that she didn’t say anything after this. She didn’t want him to think that she had doubts on his intentions.

She rode the stairs to MEA, quickly thinking what she was going to do next. On her end, she had practically spent an entire life alone, dealing with stares and filthy, lustful looks of men who thought that every single, lonely female was available for their fancy. Her schooling in Karachi and college, and job in Mumbai was no different. With every man who ever supported and helped her, were a score of men trying to use her, flirt with her, misbehave with her. She had learnt to deal with them and now, she knew that at least she could read through these shameless stares and dirty looks.

She submitted the documents at MEA and met the officer who dealt with the issuance of passports. She explained her urgency and requested for faster approval. The officer told her that the passport was approved and they were waiting for these 2 documents only. She could collect her passport on the next day.

When Manasvi walked out of Ministry of External Affairs, she found the cab driver standing at one corner on the driveway outside the office. He smiled when he looked at her. This time, she could easily sense the scheming eyes and the betrayal behind that smile.

The worse was that this guy knew where she lived and was alone in the country. Manasvi smiled back in response and as she walked towards him, she took out her phone and clicked a full length picture of the man, and a second picture of close up of his face, confusing him. His smile vanished. Before he could ask anything, she smiled sweetly and turned around to click a picture of his car and licence plate number.

She opened her mailbox and sent the 4 pictures as messages to Anshuman, Krish, Azfar Malik, the official number of the Metropolitan hotel, and the officer at MEA whose number she had taken, asking help to be contacted in case of emergency.

The driver was perplexed at what she was doing with his phone. He fumbled with words, “What are you doing? Why are you clicking pictures?”

Manasvi smiled gracefully, without trying to raise her tone, and replied in a soft voice, “I am a journalist. I work with top newspapers and government agencies. Actually, you’ve helped me so much here that I need to save your credentials to feature you in an article, later.”

“No…no…I don’t need…”

Manasvi shrugged, “I’ve already sent the pictures to friends, family, and my husband. They should know who I am with.”

The driver suddenly became defensive, “Listen, don’t think I am…”

Manasvi interrupted him, “Relax! I just came out to say that I am not going anywhere from here. I know someone in the city. He is like a brother to me. His family is coming to pick me up. I’m going to their home for lunch.”

“Brother to you?” The man smirked, “Didn’t you say that you know no one here?”

“No, I didn’t. You assumed.” She raised her chin and turned around to go inside the MEA office. A government office appeared safe at this time.

The man tried to follow her, and spoke bitterly from behind her, “You know no one. You are trying to fool me. But I will wait here. Until the office closes down. Let me see who comes to save you.”

Manasvi was terrified. She paced up her speed and quickly entered the large metal doors with toughened glass shielding a perfectly working office of Ministry from a criminal waiting outside to kidnap her.

She quickly went inside and informed the PA to the Secretary of the External Affairs and asked him to provide police assistance in dealing with this man.

“I’m so so so sorry!” The officer immediately called the police and genuinely apologised to Manasvi for all that she had been facing, “Creepy men like these make us all feel ashamed. I feel embarrassed, it happened with you here.”

Manasvi shook her head to relieve him. She was about to say something when she overheard someone at her back. Another guy at the office, hearing the conversation, commented, “It is your fault. A pretty girl, travelling alone in this country unsafe for unescorted women will definitely attract men. What’s new in that?”

Manasvi sharply turned around and snapped at him, “Excuse me??!!”

The guy shrugged nonchalantly, “Did I say anything wrong?”

Manasvi folded her hands across her chest and asked in firm, stern voice, “What is my fault? Being pretty?? Being alone?? Or the fact that you guys have made it unsafe for women to manage things on their own without being escorted like cattle?”

“Mind your language.”

“I can’t!” Manasvi replied in a stable, calm, and composed voice, “I am a journalist and a writer. I don’t mind my words or language. I speak and write about things I find troubling.”

“This is not your country to change.” The man tried to find some reason in his offensive attitude.

Manasvi shook her head disbelievingly.

“I’m not here to change anything. I’m here to find a place I can call my own.”

………………………….