7 days

ONE MONTH LATER.

It was as though time had stopped for everyone. Everyone tried to cope with their loneliness in their own way, some prayed, some cried silently, some worked themselves to the bone and some got high till they forgot themselves.

Shubman and Simran stayed in Punjab under the watchful eyes of their father. Both of them, surrounded by their family and cousins, tried to forget all the terrors they have been through, but to no avail. Shubman's father made him practice everyday, to tire him out so he would sleep well at night, but he still woke up crying, seeing dreams of Ishaan. He would spend every free moment, going through Ishaan's photos, their photos, clutching Ishaan's ring, trying to cry out loud.

‘Yadein pagal kar deta hei, batain pagal kar deta hei
Din toh khair guzar jata hei, ratain pagal kar deta hei’

Simran tried her best to be there for Shubman, but how much could she have taken care of him when she herself was breaking apart. Never in a million years did she think that she would love someone this deeply, that their absence would physically torment her. Their separation was so sudden, she never got a chance to take a good look at him. Shubman had pictures of Ishaan to get through the night, but Simran had just memories. Memories of how Ibrahim used to steal glances at her, how he used to protect her from crowds and how he always stood a few inches behind her when they walked together. Simran was always surrounded by people, she could steal just a few moments to give him a call. The phone calls were always short, both of them listening to each other's silence.

‘hum ne aisey Kiya khata kardi,
Jo kaabile maafi nehi,
Tumko dhekha nehi hai kaafi din se,
Kiya yehi saza Kafi nehi?’

Ibrahim who was a man of routine was going about his days out of habit. Nothing he did made him forget Simran. The hours dragged by as he waited for her to call. Even though they never spoke, it was enough for him to get through with. His nightmares that kept him up were now filled with Simran's images. It was always the same, he was holding his son's dead body, staring at his wife who stood by the window staring at him with dead eyes, he would then hear Simran calling out to him and he would see his surroundings change to the apartment. Ibrahim would walk to the balcony and stand a few inches behind Simran, arms folded behind his back. She would always lean against his chest while pointing to the skyline. Ibrahim's gaze always wandered on her shoulder and the curve of her neck as he watched the goosebumps rise and fall across her skin. He would close his eyes to breathe in her scent and when he opens them, she's no longer there. No matter how much he called out to her, or ran around trying to find her, he never does. Ibrahim always woke up, drenched in sweat screaming out her name. Every time he raised his hands in front of God, he always asked for one thing. Even if it was wrong, he wanted one more moment with Simran.

‘ Teri aarzoo Kar li toh Konsa gunah kar Liya,
Log toh ibadat main poori qaynaat mang leta hei’

Ishaan worked himself to the bone in Morocco, constantly traveling from one place to the next. Always in a shoot, an assignment, doing a fitting, or waiting for a chance to walk in a show, no matter big or small. He stopped himself from trying anything, or looking at anything that reminded him of Shubman, but somehow he always failed. Shubman's memories always found a way to sleep into his veins and paralyze him. Talking to Shreyas was his only comfort, but that's just till he falls asleep. What will he do to escape the dreams plagued with Shubman's scent, his voice, his touch.

‘ Jis ke jaane se jaan jati hei, usse meine khud jaane de diya’

Shreyas was slowly destroying himself again. That's what he thought he deserved, that's what everyone said he should do, so that's what he is doing. It was Ishaan who had kept him from getting high, but with Ishaan gone, Shreyas didn't know what to do anymore. He watched as Ishaan went through the airport gates, and with every step Ishaan took, he dragged along a part of Shreyas. He didn't realize how much Ishaan's absence would haunt him, till he spent every night drinking so he could fall asleep. He was scared of what he was doing to himself, but he didn't know how to stop. He desperately wanted to be saved, but who would save a disgrace like him? The only time he was sober was when Ishaan facetimes him, that is the only moment of happiness he gets. Other than those few moments, Shreyas found the illusion of solace in bottles of alcohol, packs of cigarettes, rolled joints and sharpness of blades.

‘main bhi bahut ajeeb hoon itna ajeeb hoon ki bas
khud ko tabaah kar liya aur malaal bhi nahin’

When will the no moon night that has dawned on their lives end? When will their prayers be answered, when will they meet again? Is it necessary to have so much pain embedded in their love? Will there be an end to the feeling of melancholy that haunts their life?

Note: I know it's a short chapter, but it's been a busy week so I couldn't get time to write. I will start to write properly soon, and give updates soon. Thank you baby boo's.