A husband's regret

Episode 11

Mumbai 

India

Bhavani was in a literal cocoon of warmth when his droopy eyes fluttered open. The dense feeling deep in his bones, resembling to countless trucks running over him, sort of drowned him. He was barely conscious as his lethargic brain caught up to him.

It must be somewhere around midnight, as he concluded from the pitch black darkness of the sky outside. There was soft pattering of rain on his window pane while he groggily sat up in his blue but comfy blanket. Streetlight filtered in through pulled over curtains. It casted the room in a soft glow as he looked around. The lonely almirah stood motionless in the right most corner.

In a neat black casual tee and shorts, he felt fresh. A wince left his mouth when he applied too much pressure on his aching muscles.

It was a common aftermath of recovering from manifestation. His body was bound to face an anguish, a bone tiring exhaustion. The mental and emotional health would be disturbed for days. Senses would be haywired. It would be a herculean task to attend office without bursting into tears like a pregnant woman.

He sighed.

At least I'm alive.

Witnessing his fair share of manifestations, each one unique in its own way, he knew vulnerability was a part of divine ecstasy.

He glanced at the small bedside table on his right. The lit screen of smartphone on top displayed persistent calls from his sisters, especially Ishani. It was clear thus. His uncle and aunt weren't that kind hearted to let him get away with events he needed to update his family on.

Visions of their worried sick faces, their frustrated arguments at his unreachable or unattended calls, their tears being wiped off by their baba, flashed before him. Guilt settled in his gut. How could he take death so lightly? His father must had been the most anxious one after listening to the news, even if he would had pretended otherwise. The brave man had lost his dear wife, a mother of four young children, to such a bone chilling tragedy.

He sighed loudly this time and ran a rough hand down his face.

"Are you up?" His aunt questioned softly. The door was pushed open.

When he chose to stay silent, his arms hugging his knees to himself like a lost child, she stepped inside. Concern was etched on her face as sat on the bed beside him. He felt the dip on his mattress and turned at her. Her hair were pulled up. She appeared more weary in her loose old night dress.

"You were out of it when your friend dropped you off, face smudged in smoke and all..well his clothes were too. Your uncle had an almost heart attack. Then your friend told us how you passed out.. overwhelmed after getting out of the mall."

He frowned in confusion. Neither he had a friend nor had he passed out after escaping the fire. Who had altered the narration to a family friendly one?

"Which friend?" He leaned behind him. The stiff headboard dug in his back.

"Dev."

He stared at her vacantly. He racked his brain for the information on this Dev. The feeling, a memory, of being wrapped in a safe sanctuary crossed his aching muscles. It soothed him.

Rudra...Dev

"Oh."

"Oh?" Tara questioned, a perplexed deepening of her voice.