Shakthi

~°~

What’s my therapist doing on the terrace this early in the morning? Was he sleeping here? But why? As I pondered the possibilities, I noticed a beer bottle and some chips beside him, which answered my unasked question.

Not wanting to put him in an awkward situation I looked away and continued doing my chores while I ended the call with Suknya, my highschool classmate whom I bumped into in a recent interview in a company where I got rejected again. She is an employee there and recognized me while I was walking out after the interview ended. We chatted for a few minutes before she insisted on exchanging numbers as she had to get back to her work as well. 

And last night when I was pacing in my room thinking hard about what to do next since it’s hard to find a job, my therapist suggested building a hobby and that’s when I remembered her contact. Without wasting any second I called and asked her if she would refer me but what she said made me think. 

She responded that instead of focusing on full time jobs only why don’t i try doing freelancing ? and it felt genuine to me. Yet I needed to get my facts checked before I got into freelancing so I spent the whole night knowing the market trend and what would work for freelancing, and where I can get the projects and clients from. 

By the morning I had a clear pathway of what I need to do and how I need to do it. 

I’ve finally started to sort out things for good and since her encouragement played a big part in this decision I thought to call and thank her.  

Yes,  after facing a lot of rejections from the multiple companies I attended interviews with, I  think going with freelancing is a good choice as of now,  rather than waiting for a full-time job. Besides, in my last therapy session, I was told to develop a hobby or something that keeps me occupied for a while. I think freelancing is a win-win situation since I will be earning while doing something productive too.

After hanging all the clothes, just when I was about to walk away when I heard him say, "Good morning, Shakthi." His voice was still raspy, the sleepiness evident in his tone. 

After a second of pause i turned around and  greeted him back, "Good morning" 

 Not knowing what to say next we both stood in awkward silence whileThe sounds of early birds chirping, the loud suprabatham playing in one of the neighbourhoods, and the cooker whistles of morning breakfast being cooked in some house filled the moment with a comforting music. The morning sun was still spreading its golden rays when I noticed him running his fingers through his messy hair, which was falling right above his eyebrows. His hair, slightly tousled from sleep, caught the light, giving him a dishevelled yet oddly charming look. He wore a rumpled shirt, the buttons unevenly fastened, hinting at the haste with which he had thrown it on. The shirt, a faded blue, was untucked and paired with a pair of wrinkled pants that added to his raw, unpolished appearance.

He seemed lost in thought, his eyes distant and tired, with a hint of dark circles underneath them. he early morning breeze ruffled his hair further, making him look more vulnerable, stripped of the professional facade as His fingers moved absently through his hair, as if trying to untangle both the knots in his hair and the complexities in his mind. The soft golden light of dawn bathed him, casting long shadows and highlighting the lines of weariness on his face. Despite the rawness of his appearance, there was a certain honesty to it, a reflection of the struggles he carried within. 

As he caught my gaze, his eyes softened, and he offered a small, tired smile. In that moment, he seemed just as human and flawed as the rest of us, going through the messiness of life with as much grace as he could muster.

But  then the quietness of the moment broke as we both heard some noises coming from the apartment garden area. After exchanging a quick glance, I moved closer to the parapet wall of the terrace to look down, following the source of the voice. 

A young, pregnant woman walked past a man who was trying to stop her from going somewhere. By the way he was pleading with her, it seemed like he was her husband and he was trying to convince her but she pushed him away dramatically.  He ran behind her and abruptly overtake her only to stand in her way, joining his hands and seeking forgiveness while he made faces out of visible panic. 

Nevertheless  she walked past him again ignoring him, the husband ran behind her refusing to accept his defeat. He looked around for a second and my gaze followed him. There were a few kids and elderly people taking their morning walk in the garden who seemed to be unbothered by the whole scene. And within the next second he fell on her feets but what amused me is that no one around them cared about it and continued doing their thing as if it’s nothing new for them. The woman looked around quickly and  picked up a running water pipe from the garden while her husband was still on ground, watching her with the same confusion as me before she sprayed the water on him, making jolting awake and running around the garden area to save himself from the water attack. 

It looked like a Tom and Jerry fight—aggressive but at the same time, cute and adorable. 

"Funny, right?" I heard Mugilan’s voice a few inches away.

I nodded with a smile. "But they’re adorable too. Look at them, not caring about their surroundings, just busy in their own chaotic moment."

"Well, they may not feel embarrassed doing such things in broad daylight, surrounded by apartment people, but I do," he said.

"Why would you feel embarrassed for them?" I asked, turning to him.

"Not for them, but because of them," he sighed.

"Hmm?"

"She is my twin sister and the man begging for her forgiveness is my best friend turned brother-in-law," his tone dropped, as if he regretted addressing them as his closest people.

"Then your life must be filled with entertainment all day," I said before I could stop myself.

He shook his head dejectedly. "It’s mostly filled with immediate rescueing one of them every time they fight,  facing embarrassments and more often sleeping on the terrace under mosquito torture with nothing but beers and chips for dinner “

I looked at him, feeling a mix of sympathy and amusement "It sounds exhausting "

He nodded, his expression softening slightly. "It is. But what can I do? Family la "

" hmm " I hummed in response.  

Even though i know that i can never relate  with what he meant by ‘ family ‘  

“ I’ve decided to do freelancing “ i spoke and saw his reaction change into amusement within a second. 

“ That’s great actually, all the best. I hope it brings the best for you “ he jeered. 

“ But i'm a little bit unsure as i’m starting from scratch “ I admitted honestly, my voice wavering slightly.

He nodded slowly, his expression softening. "It's okay to feel that way since you're stepping into the unknown. But remember, the first step is always the hardest, but it's also the most important."

I looked at him . "I guess so," I said quietly, still uncertain.

Mugilan's eyes held a steady warmth as he continued, "You know, Shakthi every expert was once a beginner so,  Don't let fear hold you back. Instead, let it be the fuel that drives you forward."

I felt a spark of hope ignite within me as I listened to him. "I never thought of it that way but thanks “ 

And with the again a moment of silence  wrapped around the comfort of the moment. 

As the silence took control over the moment i averted my gaze and looked at the couple again, the pregnant woman who’s  my therapist’s sister was now satisfied with the water work she did on her husband who accepted his defeated and stood drenched in front of her which made her laugh out loud but the moment her husband grabbed the water pipe from her hands and sprayed her with water. Satisfied with his revenge he laughed in mocking tone while she stood in shock before she too began to laugh with him.

The happiness they share even the chaos is admirable. 

“ Shakthi “ 

I heard him calling me gently, breaking the silence. 

“ Hmm ? “ I looked up, meeting his soft gaze. 

“ You should smile more often, it looks beautiful on you “ He spoke while his gaze kept bouncing between my lips and eyes. 

And that’s when I realised that I've been smiling all this while. 

*****

The air filled with the sound of bells ringing and the rhythmic chanting of prayers breathed a divine feeling. The temple stood majestically, its ornate carvings and vibrant colours illuminated by the late morning sun. Devotees moved in and out, some with folded hands, others carrying offerings of fruits and flowers. The scent of incense and camphor wafted through the air, mingling with the fragrance of fresh flowers.

With the confidence of having sorted out at least one of many things in my messed up life,  finally in hand, I decided to visit the temple for a moment of peace and a fresh start. It had been days since I stepped out of the house other than for therapy sessions and visiting temple was a sudden plan made right after i was done with breakfast this morning and i had nothing else to do before i start working on the freelance project.

I stepped inside, the cool stone floor soothing under my feet. The sanctum was dimly lit, the deity adorned with garlands and sparkling ornaments. Gripping the Poojai koodai,  I joined the line of worshippers, waiting my turn to offer my prayers. The atmosphere was calm and divine, the murmurs of prayer creating a gentle hum that enveloped the space. As I closed my eyes, joined my hands and bowed my head, a sense of tranquillity washed over me. I prayed for strength, for a new beginning, and for the courage to smile more often. 

After spending a few moments in silent contemplation, I stepped out of the sanctum. The temple courtyard was alive with activity. Children ran around, their laughter mingling with the chants of the priests. Some Women in colourful sarees gathered near the tulsi plant while some walked around the Need tree chanting some mantras. While the elderly ladies sat near the pillars,  exchanging small talk and prayers. The temple bells rang intermittently, adding to the symphony of sounds that filled the air.

I too sat near a Pillar, taking the remaining half fresh coconut from the poojai koodai . I broke a small piece and ate it after taking God's name. The sweetness of fresh coconut attacked my taste buds immediately while I looked around, enjoying the surroundings. 

The sweetness in my mouth made me think about something pleasant that happened this morning. 

“ Smile looks good on you, you should smile more often “ I recalled his words and couldn’t help but smile to myself. 

For the last many months, I had been so engrossed in how to survive that I forgot how to smile. 

But today was different. 

Today I wasn't barely surviving but living the moment.   

And from now on  I'm going to do that more often.

****

After spending some time in the serenity of the temple I decided to head back to him since I also have to start preparing for the project and then cook lunch for myself. Since I'm in the mood today I'm thinking of cooking something special. Making the menu in the back of my head, I made my way towards the exit, and that’s when something caught my eye. 

A line of jasmine flowers, their white petals fresh and aromatic, were being sold by vendors along the temple street. I paused, my gaze lingering on the flowers. They looked so vibrant, so full of life. 

As I quickly reached out to buy the jasmine flower, my fingers hovering over its delicate petals while I forgot everything else around me for a second , a sudden flashback seized my senses, pulling me back into a moment I wished to forget.

A year ago, 

I stormed into our house, my anger palpable as I dropped my handbag onto the couch with a heavy thud. Vishal followed me in, his demeanour calm and composed, as if oblivious to the tempest raging within me. But as his eyes met mine, blazing with fury, he let out a weary sigh and approached me.

"What now?" he asked casually, his tone laced with nonchalance as he locked the door behind him and tossed his bike keys onto the table.

"Seriously? You're asking me this? Didn't you see how he behaved with me?" I retorted, my voice trembling with anger as I aggressively removed my ornaments. 

I wore a yellow lace saree that Vishal chose for me, adorned with minimal accessories and makeup, and the jasmine flower that had adorned my long, curly hair now felt like an ironic mockery. We had just returned from Vishal's best friend Tarun's birthday party, a night that had left a bitter taste in my mouth.

It was my third encounter with Tarun, and I couldn't shake the discomfort his presence brought me. I hadn't wanted to attend his birthday party, but Vishal had convinced me to accompany him, insisting it would be fun.

 It wasn't. Infact it was the worst party i ever been to. The whole party was weird for me—too much noise, vulgar dancing, and men getting wasted on alcohol like if they never had a taste of it. If not for Vishal, I would have left the party earlier.

"Relax, he was drunk," Vishal replied, his voice annoyingly calm as he unbuttoned his shirt with deliberate slowness.

"Relax? Seriously? He was literally trying to flirt with me, Vishal," I said, my disgust evident as I recalled Tarun's inappropriate behaviour. 

He may be Vishal's best friend from school, but for some reason, I couldn't take his approach toward me as fun or the influence of alcohol. The way he kept insisting I dance with him, even after I said no three times, made me furious. Yet I controlled myself and denied him politely for the fourth time. My tolerance broke when he tried feeding me his birthday cake. That's when I lost control and lashed out at him, leaving the party. When Vishal followed me , I thought he was going to be sorry for what his best friend pulled on me. But it upset me even more when Vishal kept silent during the whole ride back to home, as if I did something wrong, and he was punishing me with his silence.

That made me hate their friendship already. 

"Again, he was drunk," came his indifferent response, a slight shrug accompanying his words. 

What angered me more about the whole thing was that Vishal was right there when his so-called best friend was pulling all these acts, and yet he didn't try to stop or warn him. He kept reasoning that I should ignore it since Tarun was drunk and not in his senses.

And even now he’s doing the same. 

For a moment, I was speechless, my mind reeling from Vishal's dismissive attitude. Yes, Tarun had been drunk, but that did not excuse his behaviour. What pissed me even more was Vishal's failure to defend me and his choice to support his friend over Me. 

"It's such a waste of time to talk to you," I spat out, my frustration boiling over as I turned away, my fingers fumbling to remove the jasmine flowers from my hair, Suddenly i’m hating this flower on my hair now and i want to get rid of it as soon as possible, so i aggressively removed the hair pins that safetied the flowers on my hair white i took large steps. But before I could storm off to  our bedroom, Vishal caught hold of my hands and pulled me close, his grip firm yet gentle.

But today I'm not going to melt in his gentleness. 

"Keep the flowers on, it looks good on you," he said matter-of-factly, his eyes softening as they searched mine.

Although I usually adored the jasmine in my hair, my anger was like boiling water, burning any appreciation I might have had for the flowers at that moment. 

So instead of responding to him, I continued to remove the hairpins. 

"Please," Vishal pleaded, his hands cradling my face tenderly. 

"I'm sorry, I should have stopped him, but it's his birthday, and I didn't want to be the mood spoiler."

"But you're okay with spoiling your wife's mood?" I rasped, attempting to pull away, but he held me fast, his grip stronger than ever.

"No, tomorrow I'll make him apologise to you. I promise," he vowed, a sincere smile playing on his lips, melting away my anger like the first rays of dawn dispelling the darkness of night.

I thought for a second before saying “ Okay ” and stepped back slightly, but he pulled me close once more, locking his gaze with mine in an unspoken plea for understanding.

"You know how much I love seeing this jasmine on your long, curly hair, right?" he whispered, his voice a soft caress against the tumult of emotions inside me.

Despite my lingering frustration, I found myself giving in to the warmth in his eyes, the sincerity in his voice. Vishal mattered more to me than my anger, and though I was still upset, I allowed myself to be drawn into his embrace, the scent of jasmine mingling with the faint remnants of his cologne, a bittersweet reminder of our complicated yet beautiful love.

"Yemmov poo vanglena kai eduma, poovellam kasangudhu (If you're not going to buy the flowers then take your hands away, you're crushing them)," the vendor lady's loud voice jolted me back to the present. Flinching slightly, I looked down and realised I had indeed been crushing the delicate petals between my fingers. Quickly, I pulled my hands away and stepped back, muttering a sorry.

As I stood there, the delicate jasmine flowers bruised beneath my fingers, I couldn't help but wonder if the shadows of the past would ever release their grip on me. The pain was a persistent whisper, a harsh reminder that some wounds run too deep to ever truly fade. The question haunts me, leaving a lingering sense of unease. 

Would I ever be free of the memories that haunted my every step, or was I destined to carry their weight forever? 

*****

The past few days had been a whirlwind of emotions, each one tugging me in different directions. Despite pouring my heart and soul into my freelancing efforts, I hadn't landed a single project. The initial excitement of starting something new was slowly being replaced by a gnawing sense of anxiety. It had been almost twenty days since I moved into this apartment, and with only ten days left to cover the rent and other expenses, I couldn't help but feel the pressure mounting.

My savings, which had already been modest, were quickly depleted when I had to buy a new laptop to kickstart my freelancing career. The old one was a relic from another life and another time, and it simply couldn't keep up with the demands of modern work. In addition, I had to purchase some essential home appliances. I had sent back the ones Vishal had bought to his parents—part of my effort to sever the last lingering ties to him and reclaim my freedom from the clutches of his memory..

I vividly remembered the moment it all started. After purchasing my new laptop, I spotted a small wooden furniture shop just a few steps away from the showroom. The beautifully crafted furniture on display immediately caught my eye, and before I knew it, my legs were carrying me inside. Initially, I decided not to buy anything, just to admire the designs since my account balance was precariously low. But as I wandered through the shop, admiring the variety of handcrafted pieces, I couldn't resist the urge to buy something.

It started with a pair of handmade cane and wood chairs that captivated me at first sight. The delicate craftsmanship and the rustic charm spoke to me on a level I couldn't quite articulate. But once I bought the chairs, I realised how incomplete they would look in the living room without a matching sofa. Summoning some courage, I bought a three-seater wooden cane connection sofa to complement the chairs. Then, the shopkeeper mentioned that a mini table was on offer with the sofa and chairs, and I couldn't resist that either.

After buying the entire set, I imagined how perfect this furniture would look in my apartment. But I knew the chairs and sofa would look bare without the right cushions, so I bought two pairs of green cushions, two light lamps, and two floral printed curtains to complete the setting. Once everything was delivered and arranged, I felt an immense sense of pride. My apartment finally looked like a home.

 But the realisation hit me hard: I had spent all my money on furniture. With rent and groceries looming, I might as well have to eat the cushions for breakfast next month.

Feeling broke and desperate, I was determined to get some projects to generate money before the rent deadline hit. This thought consumed me as I walked back from my morning trip to buy milk. My mind was a storm of worry and regret. Entering the elevator, I pressed the button for the fourth floor, barely noticing my surroundings.

Suddenly, the elevator doors began to close, but someone slipped in just in time. It was none other than Mugilan, back from his morning jog. His presence was both unexpected and oddly comforting.

"Good morning," he greeted me cheerfully, his usual infectious energy palpable. His smile was a bright contrast to my mood. 

"Morning," I replied, trying to muster a  smile that didn't quite reach my eyes.

"How's your startup going?" he asked, wasting no time with pleasantries.

I hesitated before answering, feeling a lump in my throat. "Too bad. Haven't had a single project yet."

"Don't worry, you will get one soon," he said, running his fingers through his hair casually. His confidence in me was reassuring, even if I didn't fully believe it myself.

As I took in his appearance, I couldn't help but notice how his Adidas tracksuit fit his muscular frame perfectly. His raw, effortless look caught my attention once again. The way the fabric hugged his body, the sheen of sweat on his forehead, and the slight rise and fall of his chest as he caught his breath—all of it was undeniably attractive.

Wait, what ?

Lost in my thoughts, I almost missed his next question.

 "Do you read books?" he asked softly, his tone gentle and curious.

Snapping back to reality, I nodded. "I used to during my college days. Why?" My voice was steady, but inside I was recalling those days when reading books was my only source of entertainment. I loved reading romcom fiction books; they were my constant companions until I met Vishal. After that, I somehow stopped reading, getting stuck in a chaos called life.

Mugilan smiled, a slow, knowing smile that hinted at something more.

"I have a few books you can borrow. Maybe they might help you relax and get inspired. Sometimes, stepping away from the stress can bring the clarity you need."

I found myself leaning into his words. "Thanks"

"No problem, I’ve got a little library actually. You can choose the books you want to read," he said, his eyes locking onto mine with a promise of support and understanding. "We all need a little help sometimes."

As the elevator dinged and the doors opened onto the fourth floor, he stepped out first, and then I did, feeling a small spark of hope igniting within me.

 He turned to me with a reassuring smile. "So, see you after breakfast, at my apartment."

I gave a slight node and with that he walked ahead while I walked towards my apartment. 

Maybe things weren't as bleak as they seemed. 

Maybe, just maybe, I would find a way through this after all.

******
Shakthi's apartment and the furnitures that made her broke 😂