As I mentioned before, the story is nothing extraordinary which you haven't thought or seen before...

It's my old work which I'm reposting..

Tujhko bana doon main apna khuda
Aur sajde tere kar sakun
Maangun dua saath hone ki tere
Kandhe pe sar rakh sakun
(I'll make you my god
So that I can worship you
I always pray to be with you
So that I can rest my head on your shoulder)

˚𑁍.ೃ࿔*:･⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

Darkness had its arms spread across the vast sky, keeping it devoid of the moon or stars. Somewhere under the dark blanket, stood an enormous mansion decorated beautifully with flowers and fairy lights, catching the eyes of every guest entering or anyone passing by.

Inside the main hall of the mansion, the bower for the marriage was ornamented featously in the centre. Amidst the mantras chanted by the priest, the attention shifted to the descending bride from the stairs.

Her lithe frame was wrought in an embroidered red saree with heavy sparkling gold jewellery. And yet for the zillionth time, she didn't fail to take his breath away. However the irony mocked on his face, a cruel reminder that today she wasn't dressed up for him.

The realisation seeped within him like scorching acid, reminding him continuously that today was her marriage. And it wasn't with him.

Her face, the mirror of his happiness, was contoured with impassiveness, reflecting the silent volumes of agony. The same agony which was resonating within his heart.

He quickly looked down, knowing that he wouldn't be able to control his heart for longer if he kept on looking at her.

Every step she took closer to her supposed groom, poignantly stretched the distance between them. A distance so invisible and still felt so tangible, weighing their already bleeding hearts. Furtively, she sneaked a peek at him and it only broke her heart all over again. Although, the thought of her parents kept her tethered.

Her friends' chorus of giggles dissolved, only the ear splitting echoes of her shattering heart audible for her ears. Like a monotonous effigy, she took a place beside her husband-to-be, performing rituals which were going too fast for her liking.

After the holy feras ended, they sat back in their places. Now it was time for the final rituals and will embark her as someone else's forever.

Not able to hold back anymore, her eyes lifted up and found his eyes already fixed on her. Their gaze collided like the storm surge of a sea, a crash of devastation deaf to everyone else. Those eyes were holding a tempest and within the cage of ribs, their hearts were bleeding and along with it bled away their hopes for togetherness.

"Let's run away," he pleaded, holding her hand.

"I can't make my parents suffer for my happiness. This society won't let them live in peace," she sobbed with warm tears flowing down her eyes.

"They will not let us live happily either. They will kill us." With a broken whisper, she further added.

"Time will mend everything, please let's elope from this world together." He tried to convince her, desperation gleaming in his eyes.

He was an orphan and she had become a family to him. And the thought of losing his family all over again, tormented his insides.

"Would you let your family suffer for the sake of your happiness?" He fell silent on this statement and engulfed her into his warmth. Within their hearts, the reminder that it was the last time they were holding each other this close, gnawed at their guts.

Breaking the restraint, their tears finally cascaded from their eyes when her groom filled the partition of her hairs with sindoor. He quickly diverted his gaze away when her groom tied the mangalsutra around her neck.

"Vivah Sampann Hua." the priest announced, burning the last thread between them into ashes.

(Blessings to the newlyweds.)

The fragrance of jasmine gajra tucked in her long hairs pulled on a smile across her lips. Her head whipped back to face him, eyes gleaming. His soft gaze lingered, admiring and thankful for her presence.

'Mashallah!" Rounding her face, his fist twisted at his temples as he did the gesture to take all evil eyes off.

(My God!)

"You made these ?" Admiring the corsage he just tied around her wrist, her eyes lifted back to him. "Bahut sundar hai."

(They are beautiful.)

Visibly the tip of his ears turned scarlet and a soft giggle exerted her mouth, being aware that it wasn't due to the sunlight shining upon them as both were sitting in the back of the baggi.

He furtively looked away, scratching on his nape being flustered. It took him eight attempts to get it right after he practically begged the old flower lady to teach him.

She preferred flowered jewelleries above any expensive metals. Little did he know that she didn't want to make him feel bad about not being able to buy those for her.

Momentarily the baggi wobbled and on instinct his arms rounded her shoulders, preventing her from falling down. The horse neighed while their eyes met and both laughed together, the melody amalgamating beautifully.

Imaan was a Muslim boy who worked in Pranali's father's company at a lower post. The collision of their paths, eight months ago was as unforeseen as the gradual entangling of their hearts.

Nonetheless, now she was someone else's wife and he knew that he had to leave, for her, for the girl he loved. He didn't intend to cause any problems in her life because of him. This was the least he could do to protect her.

Time flew, many things changed. Two years passed but they were still at the same phase of love from where they couldn't move on. It felt too impossible. Too unhappening.

After struggling a lot with his heart, he used to sneak a peek at her while she would visit the temple. It was those fleeting moments of happiness which he agonisingly craved and cherished yet it would only scrap his lesions further. The fretters gripping him were tantalisingly cruel, poignant on him that he could not go to her, could not talk to her, could not hold her.

But he never let her see him as he knew it would totter her strength, weakening her resilience. That it would restrain her from moving on in her life, to have the chance of a happy life and family.

He used to smile happily thinking that she is happy in her life, though it used to prick his heart simultaneously that he wasn't a part of it. What he didn't know was that she wasn't happy at all. She was going through those judgmental accusations from which he always wanted to protect her from.

He had no idea that she was losing herself, battling alone. She was craving for him as much as he was craving for her. Their hearts were yearning for each other.

Pranali's husband Karan was a sweetheart and never forced her for anything without her will. However her mother-in-law was desperate for a grandchild. She would visit the temple of lord Shiva every Monday, to pray for grandchild.

Two years of waiting felt like a lifetime longing. And Pranali's in-laws were incessantly forcing her for a child. As time continued to slip away, their belief grew stronger that Pranali couldn't conceive.

Whereas Pranali was being torn between her husband whom she promised a lifetime companionship and the man she already devoted her soul to. Neither her heart nor her soul was ready to accept someone else's touch rather than him.

When Imaan got to know that Pranali's husband was admitted in the hospital and his condition was very critical, he immediately rushed there without any second thought.

There his eyes captured her sight, who appeared like a mess due to excessive crying and his heart clenched. Her eyes had turned bloodshot, nose tip was shining rosey and cheeks were sloshed with tear stains. In that moment, the urge to break through all the boundaries of the society and run to her and console her was too profound. But he somehow restrained his heart.

She was draped in a baby pink chiffon saree with her hands full of bangles. Her mascara was smudged due to crying but still she was the most beautiful woman alive and no one can make him believe him otherwise. However her hair partition filled with vermilion was the tragic sign that she wasn't his. She never can be.

He was left dumbfounded when he heard the harsh words of her mother-in-law. She called her curse, witch, bad omen and what not. Those words were completely antithesis of the words from which he used to or still describes her.

She was and always will be his lucky charm, his angel, his life. His Jhilmil.

His fist clenched as he helplessly witnessed her mother-in-law directly blaming Pranali and enunciated that Pranali would be the reason if anything happened to her son. The dawning realisation of the hate that her mother-in-law has preserved for Pranali because she couldn't give her a grandchild, left him in disquiet.

His Jhilmil was embodied to be loved. She deserved no ounce of hatred.

He wasn't unaware of how the society treated the women with no husband and he couldn't even stand the thought of his Jhilmil going through that.

"I am sorry," she cried, melting into his embrace. "If it was for only me then I would have fought along with you. But it's for my parents too."

"Shh! I can handle anything but I won't let society raise a finger at you." He said, gently stroking her long wavy hairs.

"Hum hamari rooh tak qurban kar sakte hain apki ek muskan ke liye. Hum mar jayenge, har toofan se guzar jayenge lekin kisi ko apki taraf ek ungli bhi uthane nahin denge. Aur ye hamara vada hai aapse." she sobbed harder listening to his conviction.

(I can even forgo my soul for a single smile of yours. I'll die, go through every storm but won't let anyone raise a finger your way.)

"Mohabbat karte hain hum aapse," he whispered, kissing her temple.

(I love you.)

"Main bhi." He held her tightly as she broke down once again in the comforting realms of his arms. Fresh tears kept on rolling down from their eyes.

(I too love you.)

"Don't worry, Jhilmil. I am here." He uttered, touching her reflection through the glass of the window.

Hours passed and she just sat there crying without eating anything, she didn't even drink water. Her mother-in-law even prohibited her from entering inside the patient's ward.

A few more hours later, a nurse informed her that Karan, her husband, is now out of danger. Her eyes thronged with questions stared at the nurse, nonetheless a small smile made its way through her lips.

"Who is the donor ?" she asked curiously.

Instead of replying, the nurse let out a wavered breath before passing a tape recorder to her. Pranali's brows furrowed in confusion as she took it from the nurse. As the familiar looking tape recorder now rested in her palms, her expressions shifted within a jiffy. Casting a sad look at Pranali, the nurse retreated away.

All kinds of negative thoughts roared in the back of her head which she refused to believe. Karan was now fine, she knew that. Albeit uneasiness gripped her heart.

With quivering hands, she pressed the play button of the tape recorder. And her breathing rattled when the familiar voice reverberated in her ears. It was him. Her Imaan.

'Jhilmil..
Maybe I'll be gone when you get this recording, but promise me you won't cry over this."

Her breathing quickened when she heard those words of his. "No..no..no" she mumbled to herself, urgency surging within. It didn't take her long to fathom the gravity of the happenings.

Karan was suffering from kidney failure and Imaan had only one kidney as his other got damaged during childhood in an accident.

"Jahan mohabbat aur ibadat dono ho, wahan to Khuda mil jata hai. Aur humne to dono hi aap mein paya hai."

(Where love and veneration reside together, there infests God. And I've found both in you.)

"I want you to smile whenever you reminisce about me. My soul bleeds every time your eyes moisture. So please don't cry. Just smile, for me."

"Puri shiddat se mohabbat ki thi aapse aur bas apna wada pura kar rahe hain. Humesha khush rahna."

(I loved you with all my heart and am just fulfilling my promise.
Always be happy.)

''Alvida.
Shayad iss duniya ke us paar ek jahaan ho, jahan hum milenge.
Jahan mohabbat se ibadat ho, ibadat se mohabbat nahin."
(Goodbye.
Maybe there is a world beyond this world where we will meet.
Where there is worship through love, and no love through worship.)

Her knuckles turned white from how tightly she clutched on the tape recorded. Sweat broke on her forehead yet she felt her body temperature dropping.

"Chaand bhale hi aadha kyon n ho,
par usmein khubsurti puri hoti hai.
Hamara ishq bhale hi adhura kyun na ho,
par ismein shiddat puri thi."

(Even the crescent moon is embodied with captivating beauty.
Even our abridged love was repleted with passion.)

"Beintehaa mohabbat karte hain hum aapse."

(I love you beyond everything.)

"I love you." she mumbled to herself, the same words repeating from her lips in loop. She held onto the tape recorder close to her chest as if still holding on to him, not ready to let go.

She wanted to elope away with him, even two years back she wanted to do that. But she didn't. Her uncle, who was the leader of an orthodox Hindu party, threatened to kill Imaan if she didn't marry Karan.

Writhing like a helpless moth, her body trembled vigorously. Her eyeballs rolled back yet the same chant fell from her lips. "I love you.. I love you... I love you...."

The shockwave that coursed through her, was too much, too unforeseen. Like tantalising pain seeping through her bones, settling in her heart and fretting her senses numb. Fatigue commenced to take over her before darkness consumed her and she collapsed on the hospital floor.

Karan was engrossed with the doctor, consulting about her health. He was currently in the mental health care. After that incident six months ago, she lost control over her mind.

What would she do with her brain when she had already lost her heart ?

The doctor told Karan that there were no changes or improvements in her condition, she was still the same. Karan let out a sigh as he followed the trail of the doctor.

There she was, sitting on a chair with a smile across her lips. So wide, so beautiful. Never in their two years long relationship did Karan see her smiling that genuinely, that brightly. Her body was paler than before, bones striving to peek through the skin and it was more evident in the pale blue gown.

The nurse sitting across her was struggling to feed her though Pranali would only push the spoon away, shaking her head in refusal with a whine.

Sighing in defeat, the nurse played the tape recorder and kept it on the table before Pranali. Pranali's heart swelled when his soothing voice made its way into her ears, making her bounce on her seat with glee. And after that she ate her meal without throwing a fit.

She was continuously mumbling "I love you too" as if it was a prayer which she wished to deliver to him. As he requested, she never dropped a tear from her eyes after she gained consciousness and the smile never left her lips.

'Mohabbat to ibaadat hai. Aur ibadat se to khuda mil jata hai. Par jab khuda hi saath n de tab mohabbat bhi gunah ban jata hai.'

(Love is worship. And with reverence, even God embraces us. But when God jilts on you, even love is engraved to sin.)

Was their love truly so verboten that it eventually killed him and took away her sanity ? Was something so beautiful really supposed to be so devastating that it shattered two innocent hearts along with their souls ?

This was the tale of their abridged love.
A love so verboten.

˚𑁍.ೃ࿔*:･⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

Yeh khara samundar mera gawah hai
Ishq hai mera ya mera gunah hai ?
Tujhko saza aur adalat bana loon
Aa shiddat bana loon tujhe
(The salty ocean is my witness
Is it my love or some crime ?
Let me turn you into the court and punishment
Come, let me turn you into my passion)

Chapter Words- 2777

Thankyou for accompanying Imaan and his Jhilmil 🥺🪷🌙

I'll post the Bonus Chapter of TBSCHN after I start posting the New Book...

Signing off
~T.R