" Khata ye tumse nahi, Iss Mann se hain jo bharosa kiya Par haan tumse bhi hain shayad, Jo dil ko aisa dard diya"-------------------------------------------------------------------------Swara turned the key in the door lock with some difficulty. Tears were blinding her. Furious with them, with herself, she warded them off with an angry swipe. More fell, unheeded.

She jerked the handle open and stumbled in, then shut the door and leaned back against it, eyes closed.

Why did he have to be here...? Home was the only refuge she had, and even here... acknowledging the burning under her breastbone, she slid down the door, onto the floor, right there as she found she didn't have the strength to walk any further. How could he do this...? To have betrayed her trust like that, and then to pretend he cared...behind her closed eyelids she saw him as he stood there, by that stone bench... the burning grew, and grew and grew...she gripped the handle of her bag convulsively. Not today, she told herself as the grinding ache started. She didn't have the strength to fight anything today...she wrapped her arms around herself as the ache spread, fast and vicious, a rapidly widening hole beneath her chest...the fire spread and burned...and it hurt...God, it hurt so much...she threw her head back as it sliced at her. She saw her phone flashing, her mother's smiling visage on the screen, but she couldn't reach it where it lay a feet away from her, on the floor by her bag. On a muffled gasp of pain she curled up, holding onto herself, praying she could hold it together...

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He still had his head on the steering wheel, willing the dull ache away. Instead he felt this vibration in his chest...startled, he sat up straight. The phone.

He pulled it out instantly, and his features where grim when he saw the readout.

"Hi, Angie." He had to fight to keep the bitterness away from his tone.

"Hi, Sanskaar. This a bad time?" she asked solicitously.

On a sigh, he leaned back in his seat, eyes closed.

"Quiet, but never mind," he spoke slowly. "Kuch pata chala?"

"Umm, sure. But shayad tumhe acha nai lagega. I mean, it doesn't seem like a leak."

He sat up straight again. "What?"

"Matlab media didn't find it on their own because of a slip of tongue. Somebody mentioned your association with that little orphanage at a cocktail party, as part of praise they showered upon you."

Cocktail parties and skillfully baited pieces of information in a seemingly innocent speech could only mean one person. "Veronica."

Fury blinded him for a moment, rather than pain. He welcomed it.

"Yes, well. I have it on good authority it was her."

"Thanks, Angie."

"Am sorry, Sanskaar. Mood kharab kar diya na maine," she said apologetically. "Mai kal phone kar deti, but I had a feeling tumhe aaj jaanna tha."

What an understatement. Mood kharab? He laughed at the absurdity of it, though it was mirthless. "You did the right thing, Angie," he said soberly. "Thanks yar."

She sighed. "You are welcome. And she never was my favorite, just so you know."

"Join the club," he said dryly.

She laughed at that, and his tone. "Ok, then. Rakhti hu. You take care, okay?"

"Will do, Angie. You, too. Good night."

"Good night, pal."

He took a moment to rein in the anger; it wouldn't do to drive blindly and crash somewhere, he had to wring someone's neck in the morning.

He started the car and sped home, rage being the primary fuel. When the agony crept up again even as the tires ate up the road, he compensated by inching the foot pedal down on the accelerator.

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When he reached home, tired and dejected, it was quite late. He hadn't expected anyone to be up, let alone hear voices from the hall. He hitched the jacket higher up on his shoulder; it dangled listlessly from the hooked finger. Who was watching TV now? He stepped into the Hall wearily.

Much to his surprise, he found his parents watching the nightly news, their gazes riveted to screen. What were they so intent upon -

He followed their line of sight to the news being telecasted on the Television. He froze in place.

It was him. All over the news.

He saw glimpses of the media stunt , Little Flowers, those kids, Father Benedict and... his heart thudded painfully as his eyes shifted to Swara and her shell shocked face, Manu holding her hand standing in the background in one of the shots. Time ran an endless loop for him...Swara at Little Flowers as she stared at him in utter shock, Swara as she stood under the harsh glow of that lamp light, distraught and crying... the TV channel was running his news, the marquee scrolling with his name in it somewhere, the reporter yapping on about the find of the week that was Sanskaar Maheswari. Nothing seemed to reach his eyes or ears. He just stood there, and all he could see was Swara, and she had tears in her eyes.

He squeezed his eyes shut against the memory.

So it was all over the channels...

"Sanskaar" DP's voice boomed, breaking the trance.

Sanskaar opened his eyes with his dad's voice finally reaching his ears.

"Dad woh main," he started to say something, but stopped when DP raised a hand and got up from his place.

"Kuch kehne ki jaroorat nahi hain, hum sab samajthe hain," he walked up as he said that rest. "Tumne jis tarah media ko handle kiya, usse hum bahut khush hain.Aur ye Maheswari group ke liye, tumhare liye bahut acha hain. Good strategy, keeping this under wraps...I'm impressed." He patted Sanskaar on his shoulders in appreciation. "Don't worry about the rest, the good things you do will overshadow their accusations," he said, referring to the publicity stunt remarks.

But Sanskaar could only think of one person who's opinion mattered to him at the moment, and she hadn't...

Sanskaar stood there, his expression blank as he listened to his father's words. His eyes met his mother's.

Annapurna looked at her son, took stock. His eyes spoke volumes, though he hadn't uttered a word to her since he came home. Hurt was written all over him, and he looked drained...as drained as the jacket that hung to his side.

She knew the truth. This was no gimmick for publicity. Wasn't it just a few days back that he had told her how he wanted to do something for those kids by himself and how much he loved it and now all this?

DP retired to his room and before Annapurna could reach out to Sanskaar, he took to the stairs with a murmured "I'm tired, Mom" for her benefit. She could only touch his hand once in the railing, and then he was off. Deeply worried, she cast a glance towards the Mandir, and back up the stairs...

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Up in his room sanskaar stood near balcony .The events of the day came rushing back to him . His happy moments with swara and kids and then how in a split of second his world turned upside down.

After his unsuccessful attempts in trying to reach her out over call, he settled on couch sad and lost

Annapurna knocked on her son's door after a while.

"Sanskaar?" She called out softly.Receiving no response, she pushed the door open.

He was sitting on the couch, staring into space. His jacket lay on the armrest, and he had only made a half-hearted attempt to undo his shirt buttons.

"Sanskaar?" she called again as she stepped in. When he looked up, her heart ached for him. Poor child. He looked utterly lost...

She set the plate she carried on the dresser, went to sit by him.

"Mom, Please mujhe bhook nahi hain," he said in a low tone .She didn't say a word waiting for him to continue.

"Mom ye sab kya hogaya? " He sounded dejected, "Mom aap jaanti hain na ki main ," he tried to explain

"Kuch kehne ki jaroorat nahi hain ,Apne bte ko jaanti hoon main," she paused for a while and continued, "Lekin sanskaar haalat har baar ek jaise nahi honge na ...Jo hua tum usse badal nahi sakte lekin aage jo karna chahthe ho uske baare main socho .Agar tumhe lagta hain kuch galat hua usse sahi karne ki koshish karo beta." She placed a hand lovingly on his cheek, "Pata hain tum upset ho lekin dekhna tum, sab teek hojayega bahut jaldi."

"Sach Mom !" he could feel small hope raising inside him .Annapoorna nodded her head assuring him.

Sanskaar hugged his mom letting go off heavy weight burdening his heart.He had someone who doesn't need words to understand him .His mom

"Thanks mom ,I love u ."

Annapoorna patted his back lovingly and got up to leave from there .At the door she turned back saying ," Acha suno! pata hain ki jyada bhook nahi hain, iss liye I made your fav sandwich ,bas thoda sa khaalo."

Sanskaar nodded his head and Annapoorna left. He got up and changed half heartedly. He didn't bother to keep everything back in its place his watch, wallet, phone .He settled back on couch and looked at plate of sandwich .He is so lucky have his mom around. Like some one said, " A mother is the truest friend one can have". At this late night she had taken so much effort to make him his fav sandwich .Not wanting to disappoint her he took a small bite and his mind wandered back to thoughts

His mom was right. He had few things to take care of and set some straight. If Only he could spin his world reverse to have everything back to normal. If Only he could set everything right. If Only

With tiredness taking its toll he slowly drifted off to sleep.

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Swara woke up on the couch, tired and aching. She blinked at the morning light that filtered in through the window, sat up slowly.

She couldn't remember when she had fallen asleep. The lights were still on.

Wary now, she got up to turn them off.

She trudged on to the washroom, turning off the lights as she went. Last night... like a bad, disturbing dream, last night came back to her in snatches. she remembered calling her mom, telling her she was tired, remembered curling up on the couch. She remembered...

She stepped into the wash room and the mirror cast her reflection back, pale and pinched, lashes clung together around puffy eyes, a shadow of what she was. Her eyes spoke of misery and distrust, and her head was throbbing again as last night's events rushed back at her... She turned away from the reflection for a moment; the memories refused to go. Exasperated, she turned back and splashed water on her face resolutely, wanting to wash it all away.

She considered taking the day off, then dismissed the thought. She needed to go to college, the gift shop, needed to keep herself so she wouldn't think of - of him. Of yesterday, she amended, annoyed with herself.

She went to her little balcony to see the things she lied to see every morning. New day, new sun, things she liked and wanted within reach, encompassed in the view...and her gaze was drawn to that stone bench in her own compound.

And she saw Sanskaar as he stood there at night...

She shut her eyes in defense against the memory.

The hurt came back in swift waves as she forced herself to remember Sanskaar as he was with the media, cool and remote.

She accepted it, slowly. This was how the world was. People always did things for a reason... she wished she hadn't believed that there could be people like him, who were kind and generous with their time and themselves. How could she be so nave...? A tear rolled down, then another.

She swiped at them, telling herself she wouldn't let it affect her. Neither him, nor this terrible feeling of betrayal. She went in to deal with the rest of the day.

She debated making breakfast as she got ready, but she had no appetite. On second thoughts, she felt she should have something to keep her going. It was a long day ahead, and she hadn't had anything last night...she settled on cornflakes as a compromise.

She got out the cereal and a bowl, only to remember she hadn't collected the milk.

She opened the door to get the milk and paper.

She tossed the paper on the table and poured the milk out, then glanced at it as she did habitually. T today's highlight on the paper was a certain gazillionaire and philanthropy...

Maheswari scion and his heart of gold

She set the milk down and took the paper in hand, flipped to the article.

There was a picture of them...sitting on the church steps with Manu and Sneha and...when did they get this? This was before - she remembered catching the glare of sun against glass. They must have taken it on their way in.

She scanned the article quickly - NGO initiative, CSR and ethics, doing his bit for society - less privileged children - and a study of contrasts, the generous Mr. Maheswari and his cool faade for the media, so cool they suspected this may as well have been a gimmick, the little orphanage and the big reveal, and the rumors that the information came through his own publicity team - although they said the efforts of Maheswari Group and it's golden boy were commendable. Indeed, Sanskaar Maheswari was the group. The author went on to remark the young Mr. Maheswari was the ideal successor to the corporation's head, Durga Prasad Maheswari. Equal amounts of charm and steel, they said. They referred to the picture in the inset - Sanskaar as he faced the microphones, coolly amused, charming the cameras with that brilliant smile.

She tossed the paper down. NGO initiative, publicity stunt, information from his own publicity team.

It was enough to confirm her doubts.

Having lost the will to eat or drink, she chucked the milk down the kitchen sink, collected her bag and walked out.

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At Maheswari Mansion, the same article had lent a smile to DP's strict demeanor. He was pleased with this Little Flowers deal, and the article was very well written. Lots of praise for Sanskaar and the group. And he agreed with the author; the boy was born to lead, and was proving his worth. The little barb about publicity stunts could be ignored, of course. He thought nothing of the other people in the picture with his son.

Annapurna served his tea.

"Sanskaar?" he asked as he sipped it.

"Ata hi hoga abhi," she answered, taking the paper he had handed her. It had a picture of Sanskaar sitting in front of a church, with some children and a girl. The orphanage and the kids. And the girl, Swara? Though the picture was not quite clear she could sense a genuineness, warmth from her.

More, she observed her son with the girl, easy and relaxed, smiling. This was her Sanskaar. Her eyes moved to the photograph in inset, to the Sanskaar Maheswari whom the world knew, and her husband as well. The coolly aloof one.

Sanskaar came down the steps then. He saw his parents at the breakfast table, stopped for a minute. He didn't have any appetite for food just then. And mom, couldn't worry her. What could he tell her?

He noticed she was looking at the paper. After last night's hullabaloo on TV, it could only mean one thing that would make his mother stare at the paper uncharacteristically at the breakfast table. The thought killed the rest of his mood.

Annapurna served breakfast, quietly worried for her boy.

She turned when she heard him come down the steps; he was inclined to walk out.

"Mom, subah meeting hai jaldi nikal raha hu," he said quickly before she could utter a word. DP looked up from his repast, bestowed a small smile at him in greeting. "Bye, Dad." He said just as quickly. DP lifted a hand in wave; he dismissed it as professionalism. Annapurna stepped closer, worried. "Beta khana tho kha ke niklo tum-" He shook his head no, "late ho raha hu Mom, bye," he gave her a quick peck on the cheek and moved out. He knew he was running away, but had no choice. Mom always saw right through him. And he couldn't go into it all today...

Annapurna sighed, she could see right through him of course. Wishing her son would be all right in midst of all this, she stepped towards mandir to pray for the same. Only Kanha could help solve all this...

Sanskaar contemplated on idea of dropping by swara's flat quite a few times In fact that's the reason he rushed early from home today ,with hope of meeting her but then again stopped in midway .He didn't want to upset her early in the morning though the feeling of guilt and above all the thought, he made her cry was eating him up . After all that happened yesterday she would need some time .

May be he should wait till evening or atleast noon . Meanwhile he had some unfinished business to attend .He changed his route and set to office.

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Veronica was just finishing up a meeting when her phone rang. It was from her secretary, lasted ten seconds. And she had a smile on her face when she placed the receiver back in the cradle. She was about to have a visitor. Well. He'd owe her big, and she'd collect her due.

She dismissed her team cheerfully, drew out her compact mirror to check. Perfect, she told her reflection. She had chosen Zara today; a nice frilly feminine top, a mauve blazer, muted trousers. She had worn her hair lose, so that it framed her face in lovely waves. Perfect, she thought with a little smile..She looked pretty and professional. Just right to receive praise for pulling off that media blitz over the orphanage. She sat back, hands steeped together. It was a stroke of luck, hearing him mention that trust fund to Kunal. It was cakewalk from there. After all, she was the queen of information. It was her reign, and she ruled. But how did he..? Well. She had her sources, he had his, she could give him that. She believed they were evenly matched...her smile edged towards smirk.

Pleased with herself, crossed her legs, Christine Loubotine pumps dangling elegantly over one knee, waiting for her visitor.

The door opened with a quiet click, and Sanskaar Maheswari stood in the doorway. As elegant and suave as he always did. But... He didn't look pleased, she thought in confusion. He looked livid.

"Come in," she invited cheerfully, trying to gauge his mood.

He let the door close behind him, took a seat across her.

"I wanted to talk to you about yesterday's incident." He spoke quietly, barely managing to keep temper out of it.

"Ah, yes. The orphanage. Nice move, you know," she began while she processed his unusually stormy disposition. "Of course you could have given it a bit of a spin, but your being there was quite enough." She was thinking human interest press, anecdotal stories, pulling on heart strings. With dollar signs for quotation marks.

"We are not spinning it anyway, Veronica." There was steel in his voice, and he rarely had cause to use it. "Did you give that information to the press?"

"Of course. It was too good to resist. The prince of Maheswari empire," she winked, "at home with the underprivileged, spending his valued time, money and affection on them," she finished, pushing the morning paper towards him with a flourish. It was open and folded to a page that showed him lounging on the church steps, one kid on his knee-little Manu, one kid on the steps above sitting and coloring- Sneha, the rest of them running riot all over the place. And Swara beside him, relaxed, smiling. He wondered if she would ever look up at him like that again, open and warm and trusting. He ignored the constriction in his chest, focused on the anger instead.

"It was quite good." She went on. "Did you check the stock prices? Your NGO movement is definitely adding to Goodwill, this is like cherry on top. Good choice of the orphanage, hardly anyone knew it existed."

"What's wrong with the pic?" she asked, miffed by his continued silence. "You photograph well," this was said mockingly, though she was bristling inside. He was scowling at the photograph like that... She had given him a nice slice of the Monday morning paper, a nice slice of the goodwill pie, 15 minutes of air time. What was wrong with him? Where was the gratitude?

He looked up, murder in his eyes. Everything was wrong with the picture, he wanted to shout at her. She had ruined everything.

"I did not choose Little Flowers for stock prices," he said quietly, his tone lowering the temperature in the room, while his eyes glowed like hot coals. He tossed the paper back on her table.

Sanskaar hardly ever gave in to such gestures...Finally, Veronica heard the warning bells, even though she did not understand fully.

"What I do at Little Flowers is on my own time, at my own expense," he rolled right on. "The company is not paying for the roof of the orphanage, or the smiles of those children."

Whoa, she thought. He was being awful damn personal over a bunch of kids. It was just a press meet. And a damn good one.

"Look, it was good press. Good for your image, and that of the company," she said defensively. "And you didn't seem to mind at the time."

"You are not the only one who can handle the media," he retorted. With some effort, he reined in the temper that threatened. He hated scenes. Scenes were unprofessional.

"Veronica, for the last time, Little Flowers is of no concern to Maheswari Group. I do not appreciate you prying into my personal affairs, or publicizing it. You handle your department exceedingly well, I stay out of any and all aspects of it." When he saw her tasting victory, he went on just as smoothly, "As you will stay out of my business with Little Flowers." It was a threat. And though it did not assuage his guilt over Swara, it eased off some of his anger, a micron of it, to see that the threat was well received. He could see the thought wheels spinning fast, the careful reconsideration on Veronica's expensive face.

"It's good for them too, if that's what you are worried about," she tried it as a peace offering. This was not what she had expected. She had to salvage the situation.

He shook his head no. "Those children will not be exposed to media vultures. And we will not be using them in any campaign. That is final." With that he rose. "Next time you pull a stunt like that, I'll know which way to spin it," he said before he opened the door.

It shut with a quiet click behind him.

Veronica sat back, wondering what really set him off. A bunch of orphan kids? Or the girl in the pic? She thought she knew. Women's intuition was good enough.

So who was she? Why was he trying to protect her? Well, she'd find out. This had cost her what progress she was making with the suave Mr. Maheswari. And she wasn't going to be hauled over hot coals for nothing. Information was power. She smiled, a smile sharp as razor blades on her lovely face. She would find out. She picked up her phone, got to work.

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He finished his evening meeting at record speed; hardly anyone noticed.

They had targets to meet for the next quarter. And Sanskaar's mind was reeling with images of Swara's shocked, accusing and tear-streaked faces by turn, rather than the graphs and figures on the PowerPoint on screen. With a supreme effort he wound up the meeting, picked up his laptop and rushed out. Kunal stared after his boss. Sanskaar habitually stayed back until the last stragglers were out, discussing and directing way forwards. What was up with him today?

Sanskaar grabbed his car keys and rushed out, anxious to see her.

He reached the gift shop hoping he had timed it right and catch her towards the end of her shift.

Much to his dismay, he had missed her by few minutes.

He got back in his car and drove up that way, scanning the road as he went. If she was walking home he could - and then he saw her. She was walking.

His mind was empty except for one thought...

There she is ...

Lost in her thoughts as she walked the curb, Swara came back to the world hearing the sound of screeching car tires beside her. She knew this car. Once she thought she knew it's driver, too...

And then her mind emptied of everything but one word. Sanskaar...

They stood before each other, feet apart, eyes locked. Each searching the other... one for answers, the other for salvation... neither spoke a word.

"Hi Swara", he finally found his voice.

She didn't answer him. And where was that smile that would bloom the minute she saw him...He missed that smile, God he missed it. He looked into her eyes trying to gauge her feelings but all he got was a blank expression.

"Woh.. ghar jaa rahi ho? Main drop kar deta hoon," he said hoping she would let him.

Before yesterday, it was a routine thing for them and he didn't even have to ask. She would have hopped right in, bright and bubbling. but now things had changed, and how...

"Thank you... and iski koi zaroorat nahi ,main manage karlungi," she paused for a second before adding, "Mr. Maheswari."

And that hit him. Hit him hard. She addressed him as Mr.Maheswari. Not Sanskaar. It felt like he was a stranger to her...He wanted to tell her for her he would always be the same, would be simply Sanskaar for her , but before he could compose himself, she climbed into an auto she had hailed and was leaving in it.

Days went by, and she held her ground. None of his calls were answered. She managed to avoid him most days by leaving a little early from the shop, staying back a while longer at the library after class. But sometimes she saw him there... under that tree in the college ground, long after class. Standing by the parked car a little away from the shop. It disturbed her. Why did he have to everywhere?

Sanskaar got back in his car and drove home. She had walked right past him and hailed an auto again. So she was in no mood to even listen, let alone forgive him. If only she'd listen once...All he wanted was a chance to make Swara hear his side of story.

Each time he missed, each time she walked past him, his disappointment grew. He became more restless, his usually sunny disposition turned to almost-cranky. And he hurt, but he wouldn't let it show. He had thrown up the Maheswari mask, gave orders that bordered on curt. And continued to try and see her, make her listen.

And finally one day he managed to corner her... .

Contd..