Himani was out of sleep at the raucous clang from outside her room.
She just heard it.
Startled at the clamour she believed she'd heard, she stirred up on her bed. She was not able to figure out if it –the abrupt, fluky clang was real or she was just dreaming it, yet. Himani blinked her sleep hooded eyes, tuning her vision to the invading darkness.
When she'd tucked the thick lock of hair behind her ear, availing her slumberous, frazzled self to fit the horrendous moment that'd commenced already, there was some more of it –the intense clang. But this time, Himani could be free from doubts that it was for real –because it was from the kitchen.
The chillness of the air inside the room welding her skin, she rolled out of the bed to check out what the fuss was about.
Sorting her waist length crinkly hair that tumbled over her shoulders in a squeeze bun, she stepped down from her cot binding both of her arms close to her body, her fingers durably clutching on to her t-shirt. Tripping up to the switch board assumingly, she switched on the tiny lamp and juggled with the door's latch.
Raghav's appetent demeanor corroded further when he'd unintentionally hurtled his hand on the bracket of vessels floundering for the switch board inside the kitchen.
Raghav, never in his wildest dreams, had mulled over this cataclysmal plight –the one he was in, right at the moment. Had he not messed up with Harshita, he'd not be here, inside an inexperienced kitchen, bumbling with the vessels and bloody agitating his house owner in the middle of this night, abhorrently.
It was too late anyway –for concerning himself at getting kicked out from Harshita's house and for being responsible for the mayhem in someone else's kitchen –precisely, his all-neat-and-clean house owner's.
When Raghav fathomed the slash of yellow light from the gap underneath the door, he'd to gouge his face in the cups of his palms, disgraced.
He'd waken her up.
He'd waken her up to an unpleasant noise, a grisly sight of her kitchen and her tenant, unduly flustered being the logic behind all of the above.
The circumstance he'd hauled unto himself was preferably worse and achier than his stomach. Oh, the stomach-ache –that was why he was in the kitchen, scoring a successful, shaming stunt at twelve o'clock.
Himani exited her room carefully, after popping her head out to take a gander –just in case.
All she could stare into the distance was her new occupant standing in the access of her unlit kitchen. Ceasing at her door step, she managed to stake out what had happened.
The vessels she'd handled to wash and kept flipped on the shelf for the sake of drying that night were all spotted erratic on the floor –the stainless steel plates had just put an end to the jangling whirl and had come to rest; one of the tumblers was still spinning on its rim –and the bang wasn't very bland.
Raghav stood defenceless, his brown eyes practically narrowed into halves to I've-done-it-all eyes. Himani ambled forward and there was only one emotion ramming her mind –gratefulness.
Had she unpacked and put in use her newest porcelain dinner set from Mikasa, it would have been to heaven, by now.
She looked up at him –and this guy, to hell.
Her eyes narrowed, staring through him in discomposure, giving plumb wrinkles between her eyebrow bushes. Soaking herself up in the facts of existence before her eyes, she sucked at her breathing sharply decisive.
Taking in her expressions, he thought he better started before she did, "I am so –sor, sorry." He blurted stumbling upon his words in a ragged whisper –his eyes ping-ponging between Himani's furrowed brows, quizzing eyes and the vessels that remained on the floor.
It was a breathy gust of words, when she finally spoke. "What's with all this?" Raghav gulped emptily, his oh-death-is-coming-due-to-embarrassment scale soaring up to its ceiling.
"Listen, I didn't do it in purpose." Remaining deadlocked, he sounded low and gravely.
Progressing to the switch board to put the kitchen light on, "Of course, No one would do it in purpose but you!" she sneered. Raghav squinted his eyes adapting to the impulsive lighting inside the room.
Disheartened at his new house owner's rudest judgement, he cringed. "Why would I suddenly wake up in the middle of night and play games with this tumbler and that plate!"
"How would I know what and why you do in the kitchen at this time!" sensing the muscles tighten in her shoulders, Himani quipped at him, frowning in disgust –that, by now, she totally was.
"It is because of you!" he proclaimed in an annoyed whimper and pursed his lips. As Himani studied him pointedly, he seemed to be in pain –or in hunger.
For a jiffy, she even thought if the food she'd given him that night wasn't sufficient, that he had to sneak in here for more food.
Utterly fascinated at his blame, she raised her brows fishing for an answer. "And why exactly is that?" She needed to be enlightened.
He scrunched his eyes at it. "You made the food so terrifyingly spicy," he closed out waving his hands stretched, feigning to be amused.
Discerning the truth in his taunting, Himani waned in her writ. "That is how I eat food, every day. I am used to eating spicy food," she trailed off in her words, her voice fading away. She had always liked her food extra spicy.
Raghav shrugged, "I'd been doing it for very long, too; and that's how I ended up getting gastric ulcer," and confessed nonchalantly, catching a sight of Himani's expressions slowly dipping.
The subsided frustration started resurfacing on her face in faint creases, as he added. "My stomach ache was so piercing that I couldn't sleep –adding up to the pain, I was having acid reflux. I came to the kitchen for water. I didn't know where the switch board was," blubbed Raghav soberly, as if he was breaking down something extraordinaire. Exhaling a harsh breath that loosened up his lungs, now that he'd accounted for his kitchen tour, Raghav tacked on, "and these stupid vessels just wouldn't stay put at my gentle nudge," gesturing at them on the floor.
Himani's eyes drooped in regret. The tension that'd been keeping her shoulders squared noticeably waned off, relenting her nape and small back.
She'd gone into sweeping silence and her voice barely audible, "I am so sorry, Meena didn't tell me you have this issue and wouldn't eat spicy food," she muttered glancing up at him with liability.
"Never mind –I should've told you when I ate tonight." He gabbed back offhandedly, placing his palm on his abdomen –it still ached, and to worsen, he'd started feeling nauseous.
Every passing second seemed to sting at his stomach, yet. Raghav locked his arms around his body, defying himself of the pain walked down to the living room –and plunked at the sofa, almost like a bale.
Himani picked up on his actions. "Is there anything I could do for you right now?" feeling responsible for his plight, she enquired softly –guilt had accused. However she wasn't to be totally blamed because it was not purposive.
"Yes, do you have rantac, ranitidine, rabeprazole, omeprazole, pantaprazole –any of that? That'd help!" he rolled out on his list of medications, twisting himself to watch her over his shoulders.
Flummoxed at his line up, she gaped at him thinking over it, for a moment, "Just a minute," with that said she quietly drifted to her room.
She trolled back to him; her head sagged inside a small wooden box.
"Here, look for what you asked in it," she asserted, extending the box to him. Raghav carefully received it with both of his hands, placed it in the hollow of his folded legs and began bulldozing the strips in it.
Watching for him to find his medicine, Himani stood idly –willing for him to get what he wanted. She was relieved of the splintery pang of guilt by now, yet it was not very nice knowing she held responsibility for his stomach ache.
"I got it!" Raghav screamed, his eyes free of the strangled expression he'd had so far. "This is it," sighing in relief, he showed the strip of medicine he'd singled out.
The hampered screw of breath gusted out in a stretch from her. "Fine, take it. I will make sure I don't add too much spice in food from tomorrow," she reassured as he gulped it in with water.
"Thanks." Himani's eyes questionably fluttered over him. He was doubled over on the couch, his hands tightly wrapping around his abdomen.
The achiest glare she'd ever seen made her hobble on her tracks. "Are you sure?"
"I am okay –I am in pain, but okay. You can go to sleep." Rambled he, as he heard the door's latches screeching far away.
Usually at the end of an exhausted day, Raghav fell asleep in five –or ten. Today hadn't just tired him out but had drained him to its fullest. Nevertheless, he couldn't find himself on the margin of sleep.
He'd held up his sleep till or late into midnight, and when he did, he'd balanced the lack of sleep by pulling it off well into next morning. But this –tonight was sorely different. Squirming on the couch, he fixed himself on his back as his legs brimmed over the hand rest of the sofa.
It was well past two o'clock by now, probably.
He'd left his phone in his room –hell, nothing as enormous as the mess he created would've happened, if he'd had the darned instrument with him, first off.
Instead of letting him wander in the past, he decided to duck away and give his best shot in reaping some sleep, as he had to work the next day.
He chased in a long haul of breath, sensing his lungs freshen at it, he gulped out gently.
Bringing his eyelids together, he tried holding himself tighter and ardently bore down to focus on his breathing.
Everything was dark and his legs that'd flapped over the end of the sofa had gone numb –stymying him farther. This couch was cramped for him to sleep in, but he did not like the idea of actually rising to his heels and walking down the hall to reach his bed either.
Grumbling at the plight, he tossed to his flanks and held on to the same technique of coercing a slow inhale and with each breath he took in, his stomach hurt more and the night grew darker.
***
Raghav was still sleeping when he'd practically waken up the next morning.
As he managed to spar with his stomach pain coupled with insomnia, he had fallen asleep at some point of that night –or early morning.
Faint wisps of sunlight were gleaming inside the room when Raghav cracked his eyes open. Time was seven thirty and he was still in bed –further disastrously, in couch at the moment.
Scraping his fingers over his sore nape, he sluggishly got up from the couch and strode over to his room. Hand-picking his shirt and pants, he'd to frolic around in his room running over every object he had in his sight for his boxers; who on the earth kept tabs on where one'd put their clothes –gross!
And if someone did, Raghav wouldn't mind giving them a piece of his mind.
Quickening a shower, glowering over the fact that he'd to take his shower that morning –he fixed up himself in his navy blue t-shirt, faded jeans. He was a photographer and there was no berth for formal dressing in his glossary.
He spent a good fifteen minutes, rummaging through his camera bag –stuffing his camera's essentials in it. Scouring and asserting his backpack, his camera bag sank in and so did his laptop and its necessities.
Swooping on to the nearest table, where laid his mobile he grabbed it checked for text messages. The weak energy bar on its right corner signified him of his phone's charger –he'd clearly forgotten to take it from his previous place before he vacated. The date blinked on his home screen intimated him of the expiry of his Photoshop licence and the time, of highest nuances of him getting booted out of his office today.
The door bell chimed as he zipped his backpack.
Raghav did not mind it, by any means –he discerned it should be Himani's visitor and it wasn't his business to mind answering the door. It'd not be Meena or Khushi, the only duo that had been updated about his recent shift of place –no one else would visit him, at this hour of morning.
It went off again and made him wonder what was Himani doing without answering the door. When Raghav had started hunting for his missing pair of socks –it, certainly, was the treasure hunt he made sure to go through every morning. It rather intrigued him than keeping the socks together.
He'd successfully managed to discover the pair of his estranged socks when the bell went off –again.
Carping over why was Himani not at the door to himself, he padded his way to the living room catching hold of his shoes and the backpack.
On his way, he did not totally fail to take a note on the latched door that finally offered him that she could be showering.
He cracked the door open, and the woman standing there did not totally leave him disenchanted. Tripping on a woman was the last thing he thought would happen that morning –which by happening, quite, spun his mood.
She was wearing a pair of jeans and a floral baggy top that fit her perfectly. Her unbent, smooth hair ended right at her shoulders and she'd, perhaps, tumbled down and scored a hurt somewhere, somehow through her childhood –the scar in her forehead said it all.
Clamping her fingers around the strap of her shoulder bag, she soared to the tip of her toes to flitter a look over his shoulder blades ignoring the six feet frame before her. Finding no sign of existence there, where she stared off, "Himani evadaiyaanu? (Where's Himani?)" Her brows furrowed, as she rumbled the question to herself.
Brow-raised at her self-questionnaire, his sleep-hooded eyes smiled at her. "Kutti malayalamo? (Does the girl speak Malayalam/ do you speak Malayalam?)" His temples puckered inquisitively, he asked his voice all saccharine.
The woman's eyesight seemingly rose up to his deep-set, whiskey eyes, red and raw in sleeplessness –notwithstanding the calm, effortless smile in them.
She eagered up a quick smile at him and perked up, "Athe! (Yes!)" She'd been at his doorstep and he'd not invited her in to sit –the very realization made his lips pinch together as he wavered at the living room, tramping socks-footed in reverse, "Agathekku varoo, irikkoo, (Come inside and be seated), he announced at the reappearance of astounded smile on her face –this time it was a refurbished version of the former one.
The woman was staggered at the flow of her language from him –and it was very sound and vibrant at her arched lips and the slight flicker that rushed at her eyes.
Perched at the couch, she asked, "Sir Malayalam samsaarikkumo? (Do you speak Malayalam, Sir?)" sounding all effervescent.
His swollen eyes slanted into half, crinkling the corners of them, as he showed his fingers in an inch, "Korachu samsaarikkum. (I speak a little.)" Perusing his reply, she nodded. "Ente peru Raghav enanu, Ningalude peru enthanu? (My name is Raghav, and you are?)" he continued, standing still –his eyes glinting at her, still.
"I am Varsha, Avalude colleague (Her colleague)" Varsha said her eyes twinkling in mischief, pointing out at Himani who'd just stepped out of her room.
Himani caught him in her glare as if what he was attempting at was very well evident. Perhaps, it was –no man in his prime would volunteer his proficiency in a language to a woman of same age, with no vantage.
The moment she heard him connect with Varsha in her language,
Himani had it presumed –he was smarts in getting hanky-panky.
She forcefully rushed a breath out, trudging down to them slowly, smoothing back the wet curls that flopped down her shoulders and reached her stomach. And as she did that, Raghav skilfully spruced up a naïve smile at her.
Himani did not speak –well, not verbally. Her sooty eyes being all beady and flaying, grilled him.
He cleared his throat at her hardening expression. "I think I am running late to office, I should leave now," his baritone voice slightly meddling with this quavering breath, he said.
Her hands pleating close to her body, she raked her eyes harshly to the doorway signifying him to get out.
He lowered his glance to Varsha, flakily appraising, "Veendum kaanaam! (See you again.)" He snuffled in low voice apprehending Himani's cold stare anchored on him, not meandering a tad bit.
Varsha beamed at him, "Pinne kaanaam, chetah. (See you later, brother.)"
His earth quaked at the last word.
Raghav thought yesterday night was the quintessential embarrassment –but, at this exact moment, he was ready to scrape the judgement and scribble this memory into it.
His heart withered at it, as he quickly picked up his shoes. "God bless you, ende Aniyathi. (God bless you, my little sister.)" He muttered, without casting her, another glance.
Himani stifled her laughter, as Raghav made his way out and then to his bike.
Hanging her head back at the couch, watching him zoom off on his bike, Varsha wrenched her eyes away, her lips tilted up cheeringly.
"Eee aalukku ende score nine on ten! (I'd give him a nine on ten!)"
Himani froze, as she plunked down at the sofa next to her. Looking at her fixedly, she glowered. "You just made him your brother!"
Varsha riffled her friend blankly –she'd not said anything that was yet to be established. "So?" she canvassed cynically.
Himani locked her hands and stretched out of laziness, and tackled it smoothly. "No one says a man, brother and then judges him off with a score." Varsha ignored it with a smirk. "And how generous of you Varsha, I have never seen you waxing up such a score at anyone," Himani added, freely wondered.
She was well-versed with Varsha's grading system –it was quite indurate to get through; hardly, any man had reached nine on ten in her scale, perhaps.
Enthused at her comment, Varsha twisted her body to Himani. "I know right! Eeee aaalu kitte substance undu. Worthu! (He's got the substance –he's worth it.)" She said with a wink.
Judicious at it, Himani shook her head with a dry laugh ascending on her feet to get ready for work.
***
Himani was on the sofa, her brows interwoven and her eyes steadily straying in descending manner, over the display of her laptop, leafing through her to-be-posted recipe. Putting it up on her blog, she exhaustedly let out a long breath through her parted lips, her hands scraping over her aching neck.
Turning the laptop off, she moved to the kitchen to cook dinner for the two of them. Calling his existence to mind, she peeked a dubious glance at his door –it was as such how he'd left it in the morning, implying his absence.
With what he pulled off this morning, she'd haphazardly discarded to check if he'd swept his room off dirt.
He wouldn't care to do it until she made him –she'd known it by heart.
It even made her speculate if it all had been wired in him, that way –the never lowering high spirits, the suave coquette, the silly humour and the layered naivety –the final one showing in smattering amounts, yet zippy and effulgent to her eyes.
She wanted to smack her head in its flanks for getting herself invested in such a detailed study of him –someone she'd known for less than twenty-four hours. Shooting an acquainting glare at the wall clock, an ample gust of breathing flew out. Time was eight-thirty –okay, someone she'd known for the past twenty-four hours.
However, the time did not make a difference.
What did was her brain taking trains on him –and it seemed to trouble her. She felt unbalanced in her thoughts as Raghav's visage flickered in front of her with exclusive finesse.
She'd not intended to moon over him when he wasn't there. She sensed none of these to be extant even in modicums when he was around in here –or had it been prevailing and she'd not rewarded it suffice. In the swift acceleration of her thoughts, her heart beats had built up, the intense drumming, dwelling well and loud in her ears. Her lungs dawning to flare at it, at all the breathing she'd had harboured.
She exhaled harshly, willing for the thoughts to get evaporated as she shut her lush lashes in harmony meditating on her breathing.
Himani had a tough grind getting back to where she was. After a plentiful splashes of water on her face and few swigs of it, she believed to be in normalcy. She'd traded her cooking for the thoughts and the anxiety it'd incited in her for another hour.
When Raghav came home, Himani was on sofa with the TV on.
The sight of food left untouched on the kitchen countertop brought a devilish grin on his face. "How good of you, you're waiting to have dinner with human interaction!" he commented as he exited his room, changing to his track pants.
Himani slung him a sardonic glare, not giving a slightest cue of amusement that she really had in her. "Had I had my meal alone, you'd have nudged me to stay with you while you ate –that explains!" she said getting up from the sofa. "Plus, I wanted to see if you're okay from your stomach pain and all that. It was because of me, you'd to suffer at it," she muttered dryly. And in a while, it occurred to her that she was giving a justified reasoning to herself, for her anticipating his arrival, rather to him.
Himani and Raghav settled down at the kitchen floor with their plates, the food containers gathered in front. Himani always liked it to sit down on the floor while she ate –and her kitchen was quite a place for two people.
"I am fine –there's no pain now. I am just feeling sleepy," his eyes had delivered it much before than he did, with its crooks smeared of faint, flaming shades. "I should've been early tonight –but had to go to the club. And time ran up."
Himani froze looking up, inappreciably startled at the logic behind his late coming. Blinking at her scuzzy glare, as if it'd offended him, he winced. "Hey, don't give me that look –I meant the humour club."
A healthy chuckle rumbled out her mouth, "Do they acknowledge you as a member of it, for all the mokka (silly, useless) jokes you crack?" she arched an eyebrow at him.
His eyes sparkled, as he smirked. "I have done three successful houseful shows, dude."
"Fine, just tell me a joke, then." She demanded righteously, finishing her last mouth of food. And by now, there was no trace of that anxiety that his thoughts at his absence had wielded her.
"I am not about to reveal it here –I am preparing a new material for the next weekend," Raghav had to thrust his chin up, as Himani was on her feet, picking up her plate. Poking the last piece of roti in his mouth, he watched her as she moved to the mud pot for a glass of water, with a lopsided grin.
"For the love of your innocent tenant, come off!"
She jeered back. "But, I don't love you." Just yet!
Raghav slid his plate in the plate stand after giving it a wash and sighed. "All right, for the love of mokka jokes just, come off!"
"Nope!"
"Ticket's link is up on my Instagram bio."
"I said I am not coming!"
"My ID is raghav underscore vardarajan!"
