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Union and Reunion
Union and Reunion
Union and Reunion
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Union and Reunion

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A girl takes the biggest decision of her life and now things dont go the way she expects. She defies to the extent she can but she finally gives up. Leaving her family behind, and accepting a new family. See how she manages her life. See how she steps into the unknown world? See how her reunion is planned and discover if the ghosts of the past ever really leave her.
She had a life that a lot of people admired, adored and longed for but as they say everything comes with a price and the price she paid was a lot. The price she paid was her family. Enter into Aishas world to know her story, to know what made her say these lines. Enter into aishas world and discover what happened to her.
LanguageEnglish
Release dateApr 28, 2014
ISBN9781482821277
Union and Reunion

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    Book preview

    Union and Reunion - Aashya Khanduja

    Copyright © 2014 by Aashya Khanduja.

    ISBN:      Hardcover      978-1-4828-2129-1

                    Softcover         978-1-4828-2128-4

                    eBook              978-1-4828-2127-7

    All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

    Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

    To order additional copies of this book, contact

    Partridge India

    000 800 10062 62

    www.partridgepublishing.com/india

    orders.india@partridgepublishing.com

    Contents

    Epigraph

    Epilogue

    Past

    Back To Present

    Past Again

    Present

    Past

    Present

    Acknowledgment

    Epigraph

    V itality shows in not only the ability to persist but the ability to start over.

    —F. Scott Fitzgerald

    Epilogue

    A isha was lying down on her bed with the phone on her ear. She was looking around, and she found herself adoring her room once more. Everything fit so perfectly together. Nothing had a specific beauty to it; it all just blended in to make the most perfect room. Keeping her head on the teddy made her feel so much at home, so loved, as if it wasn’t a teddy but a person—a mother. Her father had got the room redesigned when she had been in Bombay and told her about it only when it was almost complete. She had been against the idea completely; she loved the way her old room had looked. But when she had seen the room, she was taken aback by the beauty of it. Looking out the French windows now through which she could see a beautiful sunset, she saw clear blue sky with some white clouds which too were shifting out of her eye line. It was picture-perfect, almost like how somebody would paint the sky for a shoot in film city. She rolled over to the other side of the bed and lay on her back. Natasha was talking about what was going on in college; though she already knew it all, she didn’t bother to interrupt. It got difficult talking to Natasha sometimes, though they both knew well not to talk about family. Natasha tried, but she could never really understand Aisha’s position. Today was one of those days, but Aisha had to keep up the facade. She tried to change her line of thinking and thought about Neal. He was coming tomorrow. She had been so happy when he had first called to tell her that he was coming back. He had gone for a project, and when he left, there was no clue as to when he was going to come back. She hadn’t realized how much she loved him until then.

    Mr. Lakshay Khorana lay back on a chair in his room. He thought about a lot of things, but only one person occupied most of his thoughts: Aisha. The phone started ringing; he let it ring. The phone rang again, and he picked up the receiver. It was Rose. She told him that someone from his office wanted to meet him. He told her to tell him that he was busy and to come later. He told her he didn’t want to meet anybody and not to forward any calls to him. He called his office and cancelled all the meetings that were lined up for the day. Resting his head and closing his eyes, he tried to focus on the better, but there seemed to be no better part. He was distressed by what he had come to know. He wished he could erase the memories, get those thoughts out of his head, but he also knew that what he had come to know was better not being neglected. He knew he had to confront Aisha. He didn’t want to do it, asking her things like this. He knew if she hadn’t told him, it meant she didn’t want to, but he wasn’t able to get it out of his head. All those years seemed to be a lie now. The words were echoing in his head. He knew he couldn’t work, but in a futile attempt, he went to his desk, picked up some papers, and started to read them. He picked up the receiver and called Rose. Asking if Aisha was in her room, he put down the receiver after getting his answer. He sat there for a few more minutes, trying to forget everything. He wondered, why now? All those years with her, he had known from the very start that she would not tell him. So why now? Why did it hurt so much when he came to know some things about her past? Why couldn’t he let the past be past?

    Rose told that person that Mr. Khorana was busy and asked him if he wanted tea. He refused kindly and had left. She thought about what had happened. In all the years that she had worked for him, Mr. Khorana didn’t cancel meetings often, and never once before today had he sent anybody back when they had come home. She put these thoughts aside and focused on her work.

    There was a sudden unexpected knock on the door. For a moment, Aisha considered if she had called Rose. She hadn’t. She spoke to Natasha hurriedly and told her that she would call her later. Still remembering once more if she had called anyone at all, she asked who was at the door. She was shocked when her father answered. He would normally be working at this time of the day. Recovering from the shock, she managed to tell him that he could come in.

    Mr. Khorana knocked on the door. He was thankful that Aisha didn’t respond immediately. He needed that time to put himself together. He could hear voices from inside and figured she was talking to someone. When she called out, he gathered all the strength that he could and told her it was him. Aisha told him to enter, and he went in.

    When he came in, the two of them switched off their cell phones; they did so out of respect for each other. They exchanged the usual greetings and then silence filled the room.

    Aisha was wondering what he was doing home at that hour of the day. It surely wasn’t a holiday, and she knew it.

    Mr. Khorana was thinking hard about what to say. After a few minutes, he said something. She didn’t catch what he said at first, but when he repeated himself, it was crystal clear. Aisha was stunned at the questions he asked; she wondered what had happened suddenly. She thought, why now? Why after all these years? He said, Why did you want to go to Hammerstrang? Why did you want to buy a house—that particular house in Darjeeling? Whose number is it that you make so many calls to that I don’t know about? Who do you send those things/gifts to every year? She was shocked by the knowledge that her father checked her telephone bills; moreover, he saw the details of her calls. And she was more stunned that her father had noticed that she sent gifts to somebody he didn’t know every year.

    Then she noticed something in his eyes, something that told her that he had more questions which he couldn’t frame, or preferred not to frame; but he wanted to know more, much more, and he meant business. He wanted all the answers. His eyes were empty in a way that could only be filled with the answers to his questions.

    Aisha was shaken by this. For the next ten minutes, she was just looking at Mr. Khorana with a why do you even want to know expression. He seemed to be short of words too, but ultimately he said, Please, please tell me everything—everything about your past, everything before and after I met you, everything till today.

    This was the last thing she wanted to tell anybody about—and of all people, especially her father. Her guess was that he had come to know something from somewhere because of which he suddenly wanted to know everything so desperately. She felt like all the years she had spent hiding things from him had just gone to waste in such a diminutive amount of time. Worse was having that feeling in the pit of her stomach, which meant that he would not like what he wanted to know so much. She tried to change the topic but, not being an artful dodger, it did not work out.

    She sat silently on her bed. All the things in her room, the décor that she adored only a little while ago, seemed to be closing in to eat her now. She felt extremely claustrophobic. She didn’t want to tell him; she wanted to run away. But she knew she had to. She knew very well that it was no use hiding things anymore, and moreover, she didn’t even have the courage to say I can’t tell you. Somewhere deep within her, she felt like she wanted to answer those things. Felt like it was time that she should let it out, that she should let him know.

    She was thinking of all that had been, all he wanted to know, her mind flooding with memories. He had aggravated her thoughts, and the memories had resurfaced—those memories that she had buried deep down, somewhere where even she wouldn’t be able to reach them. Now the cobwebs of the past were surrounding her, engulfing her in them, killing her, and the only way to save her was to tell her father the truth: the whole truth.

    She was thinking that she had a life that seemed too good to be true. She had a life that a lot of people admired, adored, and longed for; but as they say, everything comes with a price, and the price she paid was a lot. Only she knew what it meant to pay that price. Only she knew how expensive this life was. The price she paid was her family. She had never mentioned it to anyone, and she had no intention of doing so now. But she speculated how much her father would be disappointed if she didn’t tell him.

    Mr. Khorana was thinking of all the years Aisha had stayed with him. He was blaming himself for not being able to become a good father. He thought that if he had been a good father, she wouldn’t have hesitated in telling him everything. He thought he had failed as a father, and just as he was about to get up and leave, she moved. He looked at her getting up and going away; he thought she was going to leave, but she didn’t. She went up to her side table and took out two photo frames from inside it and placed it in front of him. She saw how the expression on his face changed. There was a certain sense of relief but still a lot of questions.

    In his mind, Mr. Khorana tried to guess who those people were. He recognized one photo as it was his and Aisha’s. The other photo was one he had never seen before. More so, he was shocked by one person’s presence in that photo. There were so many possibilities being built up in his head every second that he could not stick to a single one.

    Aisha knew exactly what he was looking at. She knew he was looking at Natasha, wondering what this picture meant. And she understood the reason for his thoughts very well; after all, she had introduced Natasha as a friend to him. She thought about the time when Mr. Khorana had first met Natasha. He had had that questioning look in his eyes then also and had wondered how his daughter had a friend older in age, but he had not questioned her about it. She knew how to cover her tracks, she knew he was doubtful about Natasha in the beginning, but she had made sure nothing ever comes up. But somewhere along the line, she had let it slip, and now her dad was questioning her for the first time.

    She sat there silently letting him take in what she had just shown him, letting him think of all the possibilities. She hoped it would make it easier for him to hear the real one. She thought about those in the picture. It had been so long since she had seen this. She pointed to each person in the picture and told him who they were. She could see he felt distressed. She wanted to

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