Is it a mistake?

It had been 5 months and 11 days. She felt guilty.

4 years. She never understood the depth of his love. He loved her very much. Very very much. She knew he did, but never understood. He loved her with all his heart. He was so true to her. She was everything for him. She was the start of his day and end of the night. His worked hard for their lives to start together. He dreamt about it day and night. He had an amazing dream, of them together. He talked about him, her and the beautiful future. He saw her in everything he did, everywhere he went. She was ugly, but his face glowed with happiness everytime he saw her. He told her she was beautiful, she never believed. But she could sense the happiness and excitement in him everytime he laid his eyes on her. It used to be so evident on his face. He used to forget all the pains when he used to see her. He used to tell her everything. Every little detail of his life. He was never tired of her stupidity. He only cared, and cared and cared for her, as if it was the only thing for which he was born. Every moment of his was tightly strung to her life.

And she snapped the thread.... brutally. Without giving him a chance. It was so unfair to him, for she was his life but she made him feel otherwise. If only she also felt the same way about him...

She never understood before cuz she never felt the intensity... she never understood how much she meant to him. How much trust he had, and how badly he wanted her in his life. But now she understands. It aches. It pains a lot. To have hurt a very nice person. A very true person. Its so difficult that its hard to breathe for her. She feels very sorry but that doesnt justify the wrong that she did to him. She couldnt imagine... if this feeling hurts her, and hurts her so much, how would he be now? She is scared and worried for him. She now understands him so nicely, after everything, as she can feel the pain too.

His mistake: Loving her way tooo much.But is it really a mistake?

Silver Strands [Part 2]

Silver Strands
A night to remember...

[continued...]

He remembered his hostel days... yeah, he was a victim of the school bullies and always found it tough to fight them off... the first time his dad came to pick him up from the school and had met his senior, he so wanted to tell his dad about the horrors of being in a boys hostel... of him being in a boys hostel...
This was when he'd first started observing the cobwebs... those silver strands above his dorm bed... he liked to think of them as his companions, always there to give him company. It always felt good to mark his memories on these cobwebs, something to look at and ponder...

He realised that he had changed a lot. How less he used to interact with people around him before, and now...? 4:15 am

Armaan, like his name, did have wishes and dreams. He always dreamt of a nice family, and now he had one, a family that he never felt he deserved. He wished for getting education, and he was in one of the best schools.
He'd dreamt of having fun loving and enthusiastic siblings, but he had Swati, who he could die for. Now, he'd only wished for her to get better...
But he just saw another silver strand taking form...

He felt old. He realised that he missed the cobwebs. Missed? So he'd been happy all these years? Had he forgotten Swati, his angelic akka? How could that happen?

Yeah, he'd not been an interactive child... ever. But his wishes and dreams were like honey [nice, tempting and slightly unattainable(bee stings)] which attracted lots of bears. So he was always surrounded by people with whom he never connected. But yeah, he was charismatic. Maybe he was not totally aloof, but the kind of interaction that he wanted to have, never existed. That connection was there only with his akka, though there was hardly any verbal communication. With her, he felt like he was he, Armaan, who was not being judged, appreciated or ridiculed at. He was just he, and he was okay.

He always dreamt of things that were not unrealistic, but just extraordinary. He just wanted his sister to have everything that was possible. And to make this a reality, he dreamt...

... and became the CEO of the company founded by him and his friends. It had taken him years to come to that stage, and now he had the power to give Swati everything. But where did that Swati go?
She was a very mild case of autism and no wonder she outgrew that part of her within a few years. Now nobody could tell looking at her that she was a victim of autism. Armaan was proud of her. That Swati was gone, but she still looked at him that way. She was still his angelic akka. No, he could never forget that swati... never. It was her, who made him happy. This happy. This content. He was happy that Swati was a school teacher now. He was happy that she was an independent lady. He was happy that he didnt have to give anything to her akka, cuz she already had everything, cuz sh attainted it herself, cuz she deserved everything. He was a proud, happy brother. And yeah lucky too.
Did he really miss the silver strands? 6:58 am

"Ummm, DAAaad?"
Armaan still had a smile on his lips. He turned back to see Swati, his daughter, coming towards him, half asleep, scratching her head and yawning.
"Hey darling, good morning! Had sweet dreams?"
"Yeah dad!", Swati's face lit up and her sleep evaporated into thin air.
"How about you? Tea hunh? So you woke up early? Btw, Swati aunty is coming today na? I miss her already, kinda feel sad that she had to go out of town for that stupid "Teachers exchange program", I sometimes feel that these school people take advantage of her kind nature. You know what? I love the way she looks at me while talking, i have this strange feeling of security you know, strange kind of assurance that, okay whatever! Anyways, i think its her eyes... hmm, do you know what it is dad? Hmm, anyways, Aryan is going to pick me up and drop me off at the college. Yeah, you didnt tell me. Why didnt you sleep? And when is aunty coming? Hmm, anyways, I better get ready for the college. See you in the afternoon. Its already 7:15, got to be ready in 30 mins, else Aryan would have to wait. Strange that he never minds waiting! Hmm, okay, see you and aunty at lunch. I'll get going"
"Sure honey", he smiled back. Swati, she could be such a kid, unlike his akka, who would believe that she was 20? He admired his little girl's choice - Aryan. He was a nice chap who happened to be an employee of his company and his daughter's love as well. He had a wonderful family. A beautiful wife, a beautiful daughter and his akka who was married too.

Did he miss the cobwebs, the silver strands? Not exactly, maybe he'd forgotten and hence it all got flooded in his mind today.

He got up to freshen up. He was already awake, but still felt like washing up his face. He dragged himself towards the bathroom, went near the washbasin, splashed water on his face and looked up in the mirror. He spotted a few strands of sliver hair on his head. Silver strands...?
His gaze suddenly turned towards: Garnier Nutrisse Level 3 Permanent Creme Haircolor, Truffle 50 ... lying on the shelf...

Power of Human Expression

Silver Strands [Part 1]

Silver Strands
Time ticks on and enters Swati

Up he looked, only to find no cobwebs...

He was 10 years old, when it all started. He'd completed his 5th class, and his parents had decided to send him to a boarding school so that he could develop into a fine young man by the time he turns 17. He didnt belong to a family of posh people neither to a family living under the poverty line. His father was an academician and his mom was a homemaker and a freelance writer, so his home could very well pass for a middle class home. He was a bright kid, and so getting admitted to one of the 'supposedly' top most reputed schools, far away from his town, in a far off 'well established' city, wasn't unexpected.

cobwebs gone.. how he felt he sometimes missed them.. he turned to his side, laying there on his bed.. 1 am, the clock read..

Summer vacation! How happy he was.. that he could finally go back home. He wanted to disappear as early as possible from there and the thought of not being in the hostel for full 2 months was too overwhelming. Any moment now, his dad would come to pick him up. He simply couldn't wait any longer. He started moving back and forth in anticipation.. what was talking dad so long? He's already half an hour late. He was so consumed in his thoughts that he didn't realise bumping into one of his seniors..
"Be more watchful, kid", the senior said; with a worried look in his eyes, the little kid said, "I'm sorry, I'm just waiting for my dad to come, he was supposed to be here half an hour earlier." ... "DAD!", the worry disappeared as soon as he saw his dad smiling at him and coming towards them. "Hi kids, how are you doing?"
"Hi uncle, doing great! hey kiddo, See you after summer, have a great vacation", the senior went off, giving a big grin and a wink.
"Nice chap, right kid?", his father asked. "Uh-hun", he replied.
That big grin and that wink.. Oh! how he wished he could tell his dad..

he sat up on his bed.. the room was cool and pleasant, yet he felt insomnia seeping into his being.. he got up and decided to have a glass of water.. 1:38 am.. the seconds hand kept moving..

He was not a very interactive child, and he never made any great friends. He had always preferred being at home, reading books, doing some painting or carpentry over going out with his pals or getting involved in outdoor games.. he'd always been very creative, to an extent that awed everyone. Owing to his weak, fragile physique, his mom never forced him to go out and play. Even at home he would mostly stay in his room which was adjacent to his sister's.
His room! It was his heaven, how much had he missed being there.. he missed his heaven, his freedom. Freedom! in his own small space, he felt so much free.. so secure.. so safe.. it was his room.. only his, no one to share this personal space with.. so unlike his hostel.. he shivered slightly at the thought of it..
He decided to see his sister before going to bed. Her room was open, like always.. the door was never shut closed, so unlike his.. he always closed it before going to bed (never locked, because his mom never allowed that)..

She was looking out of her window, it was dark outside.. he wondered what she was thinking.. but dint feel like disturbing her, he thought of looking at her one last time for it always calmed him.. she always looked the same, so calm, so serene.. he'd hardly ever seen her speak.. she would always be there, in that position, cross legged.. staring out.. so calm, so serene.. so content..
He felt happy for her. But he knew that he shouldn't..

he went down the stairs to get a glass of water, naah, he wasn't feeling that sleepy, he decided to make himself a cup of tea rather.. he kept a kettle on the stove.. added some water and tea leaves.. pulled a chair close to the stove and waited for the water to boil.. seated there on the chair, he couldn't help recall when he first saw his sister..

"Otty-Stick? Is that some kind of a stick? Where is aunty, uncle? She didn't come?" He thought that he heard it wrong, but okay, dad will tell again..
The man looked at this 6 year old sweet little curious kid and smiled, as he gently lifted him up. "You are very lucky to get picked up by a nice family", said the other children at the orphanage. He had a last look at the orphanage before entering into the rickshaw.
"Well", his dad smiled, "she is at home with you sister sweetie, and BTW, there is no aunty in my house kid, there's only mom. Do you want to embarrass your mom by calling her aunty?"
"No, I don't want to embarrass her.. you are so nice uncle.. can i ask you something? can i.. umm.. call you dad, uncle?"
His dad chuckled and hugged his son tight.. the small kid never felt so secure before.. so safe before.. he felt so lucky.. he kept hanging onto his 'dad'. "of course, i am your dad..", the little kid clung onto his dad even more tighter..
"How is my sister dad? Her name is swati na? I want to meet her also daddy"
The auto screeched to a halt.
"Enta?" (how much?), dad asked; "vanda rupaayalu" (100 rs), the auto walla replied. His dad paid him and the auto rode off..

the water had started boiling, he added some milk and sugar into the boiling water and looked at the crimson colored water mix with milk and forming pretty patterns in the kettle.. he saw the grandfather clock by the wall which read 2:05 am.. it didn't bother him and he drifted back to his thoughts..

He looked at the house, no.. his 'home', he corrected his thoughts.. it was a not a huge house that he always dreamt of living in, but it was decent and very homely.. a smile appeared on his face.. a home.. he thought.. my home.. he was so happy..
"Where are akka (elder sister) and mummy, daddy?"... "Patience child"
Dad rung the bell, and mom answered it. She seemed so happy to see him.. he felt so nice.. he was really welcome at their home.. no, his home.. mom hugged him and took him inside.
"I want to meet akka also, maa". "Oh, sure, I'll take you to her room.. she's a very sweet and a very special child.. i am sure you'll like her"
They entered Swati's room, the door was open then. It was a very well kept room, not too crowded.. and well lit with sunlight.
She was seated on her bed with a pencil in her hand and a plain sheet on her lap. Mom went near her, kissed her forehead and brushed off a long lock of hair off her eyes.. Swati kept her head bent and drew a circle on that sheet of paper. "This is your brother swati, look, isn't he adorable?"

Swati dint lift her head, and neither did the pencil, off the sheet.. she kept retracing the circle on the paper and started swaying her back, to and fro, on the bed. He suddenly thought his sister could not hear, that she was deaf, but if she was deaf, then why was mom talking to her? Mom said that she was 'sweet' and 'special'.. she obviously looked 'sweet' but in what way was she 'special'? He was not able to muster enough courage to ask his mom. He climbed up her bed, went to her and said 'hi Swati, Armaan here'.. she was still swaying but had stopped circling the pencil round and round again on that sheet.. she let the pencil drop off her hands and started staring outside..

Armaan thought that she hated him, and wanted to tell her that he's an orphan but not a bad boy.. he kept his hand her shoulder.. she pulled her gaze off the window and looked at him.. he thought she would hit him.. but she just looked at him.. her eyes dint look angry and strangely her presence comforted him.. she kept gazing at him.. there was no grief in her eyes.. she dint seem bothered.. but neither did she look happy or excited to see him.. her look, so calm.. so serene.. she looked like an angel with big calm eyes and beautiful long black hair.. she kept looking at Armaan and he felt so secure.. "umm..maaa..", Swati uttered after sometime, her voice sounded unsure but beautiful.. she had a very beautiful voice.. maybe if she sang, it would sound like cool breeze rustling through the leaves. Mom came, looked at Armaan lovingly and said that its Swati's nap time.. His mom cleared her bed, kissed her forehead again, stroked her hair and lifted armaan in her arms and came out of her room.. the door was kept open and he saw Swati, his angelic akka, looking at him..

Swati's look.. she never looked at him lovingly, so unlike his mom, who always looked at him so lovingly and so reassuringly, his mom always seemed happy, always optimistic.. just like dad. But there was something that always made him want to be with akka. Her look.. it was always the same.. calm.. serene.. detached.. neither happy nor pained.. maybe just content? he could not say content.. he did not know.. he always wanted to know, if she had thoughts running in her head? if yes, then what was it that she liked to think about..
"Otty-stick".. it had not taken him much time to understand what this word meant.. his sister was Autistic. Swati was autistic..
He felt his fingers clasping the cup tighter.. he suddenly remembered that Swati was 3 years elder to him.. and that look of hers..
he realised that he was slacking on his chair with one arm hanging down carelessly and the other hand holding the half finished cup of tea.. he realised that this was his fourth cup of tea.. he went to the sink, poured off the tea like he did all the three times and opened the tap to wash off the stains formed on the sink.. but he just couldn't wash it off his mind..
He came back.. sat on his chair.. looked at his watch.. 4:09 am, and the time continued to tick on...

[To be continued...]