Chapter 1:- Held Back

Of hidden wounds

“Log dekhte hai bas meri yeh hasi

Jiske saath ro sakun aisa koi aas paas nahi

Waqt beet jaata hai yunhi aate jaate

Waqt beet jaata hai yunhi aate jaate

Ghar par intezaar karne wala mera koi khaas nahi

Main jaag raha hoon, aur yeh chand bhi jaag raha hai

Humare jaisa iss duniya mein koi udaas nahi”

Rounds of applauds resonated throughout the grand hall of one of the most posh residencies of the city as a weak smile etched onto his face. His lips pursed into a grim expression as his steps faltered, the dazzling spotlight no longer embracing his darkness. Another incessant lump formed in his throat at seeing such a large crowd clap for him, all the while slowly fading into nothingness. It wasn’t stage fright. It was the intimidation the pitch blackness brought.

Grabbing a leather strap, he slung it over his shoulder and soon produced a soft note through his strum. With a newfound grin caused by an eruption of cheers, his fingers continued to fidget with the familiar strings as his voice found yet another temporary purpose again. The notes started off soft and detached, urging people to sway to his melodious tunes. His eyes closed in euphony as his hums echoed in his ears. Music had always provided solace to him; its sounds reaching the closest to his caged heart. A wave of twenty years worth of memories swam in front of his closed eyes, each memory widening his lingering smile. Of childhood days. Of crazy banter. Of loyal friends.

And then the beat stopped, and for a second so did his heart. His eyes cracked open and so did the tranquility. The fingers strumming his guitar hastened their speed, rushing their way through the musical chords. An unsettling feeling settled at the pit of his stomach and the curve on his lips vanished to an austere, straight line. Sweat beads formed on his forehead as his eyes found darkness behind squeezed lids once again. The music harshened and so did his fingers. Until it touched the highest note, his last straw.

Another round of cheers exploded in the massive hall as his eyes opened to reality once again. Shaking his hand out of brutal pain, he prohibited any signs of pessimism on his face and plastered the casual smile back.

“Another round of applause for the brilliant Sameer Maheshwari!” The anchor boisterously made his presence onto the stage. The spotlight once again found its way to Sameer as he clutched his guitar.

“Thank you so much Mr. Maheshwari! You’ve made this Navratri party an astounding memory for many generations to come!” The anchor pat his back as Sameer caught another glance, clapping for him in pride.

With a curt bow, he made his way off stage, only to be engulfed in a tight hug by the two pillars of strength in his life.

“You rocked it, man!” Munna cheered while Pandit jumped onto him “Once again!”

Sameer’s feet rocked at the much wanted burden as he voiced through muffled laughs, “How could I have done this without you two?”

Munna and Pandit; the two lifelines, the only constant in Sameer Maheshwari’s life.

“Are you okay?” Munna hesitated, worry spreading across his face. Sameer looked away, “Was it that obvious?”

“Not to the oblivion.” Pandit clarified, raising his eyebrows towards his the crowd. “But to us, yes.” He completed.

“I’m fine.” Sameer attempted, only to get sarcasm in return.

‘We’ve known you since the first day of school, Sameer. So don’t you try lying to us.” Munna retorted.

“Let it be. I don’t want to ruin this evening.” Their best friend shrugged as he pulled them both in another embrace.

Patting his back, Pandit was about to rebut when he heard a clearing of throat. A man in his mid-fifties approached towards them as the three best friends straightened. His gaze scrutinized at their traditional yet simple ‘kurtas’ paired with white ‘dhoti’ styled pants and authentic Indian shoes and lingered at the one in red, standing in the middle. The two other 20-year-olds dressed in blue and yellow ‘kurtas’ gulped dubiously and looked nervously at Sameer. The man himself was dressed in a black kurta, his hair neatly done with a streak of silver and a pair of gold rimmed glasses. The wrinkles on his face showed signs of old age while his five feet four inch figure still reminded him of his strength. His stern expression softened as he pat Sameer’s back.

“You made me proud yet again, Sameer!” He praised as three friends let out held breaths in anticipation.

“You scared me, dad.” Sameer chortled as Pramod Maheshwari joined him with a boisterous grin.

Pulling him in a long forgotten embrace, he pulled back with tired eyes yet brimming pride. A moment of silence prevailed as two isolated men, bounded by relation commiserated each other’s loneliness.

Stifling a sniff, he cleared his throat, “Enjoy the party now. Where are your other friends?”

Sameer’s eyes ransacked the entire hall before grunting softly. With a scowl on his face he denied, “Not any that I’m waiting for. I’ve got my best friends right here, dad.” He beamed, wrapping his arms over his best friends’ shoulders. Munna and Pandit rejoiced in glee as his father looked on happily.

“Don’t drink too much.” He warned as he left to attend his other friends and guests. Sameer’s orbs lingered at his Dad before grabbing a glass of fruit cocktail from a nearby waiter--dressed in a white shirt and black waistcoat teamed with black pants--that robotically circulated around the gigantic Maheshwari ballroom.

“Where is your sister?” Pandit asked out of curiosity, his voice louder to suppress the blaring music. The lights had dimmed slightly while the DJ took charge, swaying his hand in the air.

“Deepika had another party to attend. She should be here in a while.” Sameer responded making his friends nod in response.

As he continued to search the crowd once again, Munna cornered, “Who are you looking for?”

While Sameer brushed his nape with his hand and face cringed into a sheepish grin, Pandit teased him further, “Another special someone?”

His face broke into a smirk as he tilted his head to one side while his arms stretched in front of his chest and his knuckles cracked, “A very special someone.”

“Who is she?” Munna and Pandit’s eyes widened in excitement as Sameer hushed them. Grabbing their shoulders he bent and whispered, “She isn’t some random passtime girl. She’s...Naina Agarwal.”

“What?!” His friends shrieked in horror as Sameer’s smirk widened.

“What do you mean by ‘what?!’” Naina retailated, imitating her cousin’s reaction. Preeti held her shoulders pugnaciously and shook them vigorously, as if trying to put some sense into her impervious eleven-month-older cousin.

“Have you lost your mind, Naina? How can you reject such an important person’s invitation?” Preeti grew bewildered at her nonsensical actions. Naina cast a castigated look while she jerked herself away from Preeti’s grip. Walking towards the corridor at the far end of the hall that led to her room which she shared with her sister, Naina huffed, “As if you don’t know what equation I share with...Sameer Maheshwari.”

Preeti followed in toe, insistent on breaking her determined reluctance as well as dying to see the reaction upon entering their room. As soon as the much anticipated door creaked open, Naina’s rants halted to a sharp gasp. Naina swung on her heel and engulfed Preeti in a suffocating hug, “It’s still the same!”

“Your wish can sometimes be considered as my command. And this was one of those rare instances.”

Of the few times Naina and Preeti had conversed over phone calls, Naina had contradicted the idea of getting their room renovated. Although she wasn’t too happy about the whole house being transformed into something modern either, yet her room was a place she was very possessive about. It held treacherous incidents and precious moments; each piece of furniture held memories.

Naina pulled back to observe her room once again, after three years of yearning. The worn off rusty wooden desks still stood sturdy against the wall on her left. Her welcoming bed that reminded her of incessant pillow fights and gushes of laughter remained prim and neat, with the blanket folded at the foot of the wooden structure. Behind the head of the bed opened a window with creepers of plants and a misty smell of the Earth. She walked towards the balcony in her room as she inhaled the nostalgic feeling of being back home. Preeti stared at her in longing happiness before engulfing her in another hug.

“Why are you so hesitant?” She probed as Naina drew a succinct breath.

“Some things are beyond our control.” Her voice seemed distant and memories seemed barbaric as a tear trickled down her face. After a moment of silence, Preeti surreptitiously sighed and decided to lighten the mood.

“How on Earth is Sameer Maheshwari beyond our control?” Her confused expression made Naina eye her a death stare.

“You’re still stuck on him?” She grew annoyed.

“How are you not? Have you seen him?” Preeti looked on dreamily, gushing over his handsomeness while Naina pursed her lips and clicked her fingers in front of her face.

“As if you aren’t aware, Preeti.”

“Oh God, stop holding age old grudges, Naina.”

“It’s not age old if it still affects.” Naina rebutted, anger blazing in her eyes.

Preeti sighed and walked towards her wardrobe, “You’re going and that’s it.”

“You can’t force me, Preeti. And what will you do alone at home?” Naina counter-attacked to which Preeti flashed a mischievous smile that left Naina in apprehension.

“I will be accompanying you, my dear sister.”

It took a while for Naina’s eyes to widen. “Oh, I get it now. You want me to go just so that you could get through too.” She voiced sarcasm as realization dawned upon her. With just a curt nod and a sloppy smile, Preeti got back to work, rummaging her cupboard for two appropriate ‘chaniya cholis’.

“Of course, Naina. I’m surprised he sent you the invitation rather than me. Anyways, you seem least interested and I can’t wait to catch a glimpse of the Sameer Maheshwari. So I’m just using you.”

“Though what surprises me more is your impervious nature. I thought you were an impeccable expert at recognizing someone’s true self.” Her words held irony that made Naina uncomfortable. She looked away and gulped. Her eyes glistened as she cleared her throat.

“And what about father? Have you thought about his level of anger as soon as he finds out?” Naina stuttered, trying to come up with reasonable excuses.

Preeti let go of the matter, making a mental note of interrogating Naina very soon.

“When have you thought about his reactions, Naina? If nothing else, then short temper is something that has genetically come into you. So don’t worry about me, I’m safe.” Preeti shrugged and immersed herself amidst clothes yet again. Naina stomped her foot in frustration as she gritted through her teeth. A thousand clothes, ranging from t-shirts to skirts to dresses bombarded their bed as Naina dreaded her aunt and uncle’s reaction upon seeing the mess.

“Found it!” Preeti held one authentic Indian ‘chaniya cholis’ in each hand, her grin victorious  as if she had won a preposterous war. Naina scoffed in exasperation, shaking her head in disappointment, rubbing her head with her hand.

Her sister continued to smirk as she casually shrugged yet again, “What would you do without me?”