❝Do you really belong anywhere out there?❞

5th April 2014

In the crowd of hundreds, I was alone.

Masked eyes, upward tilted lips, proud chest, and carefree shoulders was how I looked like every day now, standing with an untouched wine flute in my hand and my eyes dancing across the grand, glimmering hall. The people present there were a blend of artists, photographers, singers, and who not. They all held pride, confidence, and celebration for me. Ironical! Everything appeared so fabricated.

Them. Even I.

"Viraj?" I turned towards my left, averting my stare from the posh crowd, when my associate, Tanmay, sought me. "Man, you surely know how to hide in plain sight! I've been searching for you for some fifteen or so minutes and you're here, standing like a lone man in foyer."

I didn't reply. Just offered him a smile and a small shake of my head in a non-chalant way. And moreover, he didn't need, or searched for any response. Tanmay knew me more than anyone present in that room. He was aware exactly what ran through my mind, or in my veins. Whose thoughts had me this distracted, that I didn't mind missing out on my own success party. He wasn't close to me by any means, but being in the same group while we traveled all over the world in search of variety of clicks, Tanmay effortlessly took an important spot in my life.

Success party, my mind zoomed back in.

With attention came rushing slight bit of guilt too. It was an event organised for me after all, with people from my professional background swarming in this grand hotel of Benaras. The agency did warn me, though subtly, to not screw this event. Having attached the title of international sensation to my name, it now became important for me to not tarnish my own image anyhow. Moreover, it was the eve of my photography showcase.

Every click of mine, except for the two, hung across the walls. The most of the crowd hurled praised at my latest showcase; the portrait of Menka. There were stories, some tales, a few interpretations, experiences, some talked about the unseen edges of the portraits, and a handful simply brushed past all. I could feel the warmth of words, the string of narration they weaved. I wanted to mingle with the crowd and hear what they had to say about the portrait of a naked, malnourished child whose eyes were as wide as the hunger in his belly. What could they have thought of those two men inside the frame by the farthest end of hall, whose shoulders slumped with responsibilities and unhinged ambitions as the city of dreams, Mumbai, closed in? The portrait of a widow who clutched the ephemeral hope inside her haunted eyes while her hands rested on her stomach––a womb that never got a chance to house a life. I almost walked up to the crowd when they took my name more times than I could count.

Viraj, Viraj!

Viraj, a sensation among portrait photographers worldwide. Some called it an overnight success, a few scoffed and buried my success under the rug of corruption. I named it an elixir.

I was nothing, my photography was nothing––that's what the market vultures made me believe. But that one capture of the night, and the shadowed eyes of one woman in the frame who held a bazilian string of mysteries in her kohl outlined eyes, changed a whole lot of everything. Her. The portrait of hers was the elixir for me. Once the ocean of mysteries was revealed and showcased, I was picked from the ground and placed on the shoulders. I never looked back again.

I should have.

One portrait, and I was climbing the ladders with awards and accolades. Associates of mine were now those expensive dress bearers, cunningly sweet talkers, those who praised even my emotionless, masked face, and left out were those who had always shouldered me in struggles, those who had seen me in torn shirts, ripped shoes, those who flipped the dainty house upside down upon seeing a single hint of tiredness in my eyes. The limelight surely followed me, but life had left me far behind. Lost. Utterly, disgustingly lost. That's how I felt.

I should've looked back.

"Viraj!" Tanmay was in my face, stating straight into my eyes while his hands clutched my shoulders. "Bhai, are you good? You looked so out of it for a hot minute."

Why didn't I?

"If you need a break, go ahead, I'll handle the crowd," Tanmay spoke calmly, not a hint of panic in his voice––contrast to the cloud of emotions in his warm brown eyes. I stayed frozen.

For them. For all. I should've looked back.

"Wherever you are, snap back bro! It's scary."

For her.

"Viraj!"

I hissed as a sharp pain sneaked upon my shoulder, where Tanmay dug his nails sharply, and trembled on the spot.

"I will be back soon," I said at last.

**

I couldn't breathe.

Couldn't live.

It took everything in me to hold myself rigid, rather than exiting and going back home. Home, where Maa and Deepti were. Home, where Siddhant was. Home, where I was whole. The pieces of mine, broken in such intricate manner, pierced the layers of my skin from within. At home, they could have caught me before I fell. Within the glimmering lights, they would have turned a blind eye. I bled, but none saw.

The sky above me stretched wide with scattered clouds, the crescent moon of the night peeked now and then. I had lost my shoes back by the entrance of the hotel, alongside the black suit coat that I wore––matching it with the steel blue tie. I could feel my mind in a frenzy, a cluster of memories, guilt, thoughts, unkempt wishes kept me in a grip. Despite assuring Tanmay and the host about my arrival back in the hotel, midst of the guests, before dinner, I knew I was not going back to the party. Lies. Liar. Yet, I didn't care enough. Agreeing to return to Benaras was the first and last mistake I committed. Whatever I did next, worse or worst, still didn't surpass that one act.

My destination laid ahead of me.

The narrow street, muddy houses, flickering golden hues outside the colourful wooden doors. The only difference was the silence that yawned so deeply and heavily along the whole street. Not a single step traveled there. It still remained the deserted street of Kashi.

The question was blunt, sharp, and taunting. Did I want to enter?

Was I strong enough to step ahead?

**

This was a relatively shorter chapter, just a connecting one to show the glimpse of Viraj in present. More to come later on.

A reader of Kashi made these beautiful fan covers for the book and I can't be any more appreciative and happy. Knowing and seeing you people enjoy reading, it's a major motivation giver. Thank you so much for all the support. Here are the covers attached below:

(Made by kalam.kaari_ on Instagram).