"Ehsaas" means "feelings," and that's what you'll get with every page of these Indian stories.
A country where golden sunsets kiss the land and temple bells whisper melodies. This ain't just a story, it's a whole lotta love, packed in bite-sized tal...
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VIRAT'S POV
It's been three weeks since I've seen her smile—the girl who used to wait for me to have dinner every night. Despite my repeated requests for her not to do so, that girl now avoids staying in my presence.
She is scared of me; she believes in those rumors. The little realization made my eyes well up. My once dull life started to feel like lavender in her presence, but now it seems like I am not made for the lavender tones. I am the black, and I should stay in the dark.
It was quite late when I arrived home. The drawing room, as always, was bathed in muted dim lights. Her room's door remained shut, also as always. Placing the bag on the table, I poured myself a glass of water.
This house doesn't feel as vibrant as it used to feel in her presence. I sat on the chair and reflected on everything that had transpired in the past few months.
When Maa sent Meera's picture for marriage, she reminded me of Heer – the Heer whom I had a crush on, not the one I married. They were two completely different people.
I glanced at the corner of the room, and there it was – the piano I bought for her. I don't know why I still have it, considering it reminds me of the most painful night. Perhaps because it also provided clear answers to my questions.
Yet, those answers didn't offer much solace as I continued to live in suffocation. I hoped that someday things would improve, but they never did. Instead, they worsened day by day, reaching a point where I became what Meera called the monster.
I gulped those tormented memories down my throat and stood up to head towards my room. However, as I walked past the sofa, I realized that Meera was sleeping on it, holding a book in her hand.
In those three weeks, she poured herself into studies, and I am glad she is focusing on her dreams.
Approaching her, I gently took the book from her hand and placed it on the table. Her face glowed in the dim light.
I found myself wishing I had met you, Meera, instead of Heer. I wished Heer wasn't your sister and that you didn't love her this much.
I recall her mom once telling me that Meera is Heer's chhaya (shadow), a simple copy of Heer.
I believed her back then, but now I could debate this until eternity – Meera is nothing like Heer. She knows how to care, how to love, and how to truly see.
"If only I was ready for you, I would have given you the world, Meera."
Lost in thought, I didn't realize how long I stood there. It had been three weeks since I had seen this face, so I was just lost in it.
