October had arrived, bringing autumn with it. The season stirred memories, prompting a melancholic tale that the wind yearned to tell. It was a time to revisit the past, to walk down memory lane and confront the history that had faded like a fallen leaf.

Inayat gazed at the sky through her window as she crept slowly out of her bed, careful not to wake Shamshad, her best friend. Today the sky seemed paler and withered as she continued to look at it, unlike the ones soaked in whisps of sunlight and fragile pinkish glow. Azhar, whom Inayat loved someday, would not have liked the skies today.

Her eyes formed a sheen of tears. This was queer. She had nothing to cry about at that particular moment but it seemed like the sleepless nights drenched in the bittersweet memories of her beloved were taking a toll on her existence. There were many instances when Shamshad had found Inayat immersed in Azhar's thoughts, talking to him as if he were present in real and so close to her. This was the sheer vulnerability on Inayat's part. But this same woman was a ball of perfection, precision and confidence when she handled her work pressure. She had enough to live and eat comfortably. However, her life juggled the contrasting emotions and she was unable to peel off the love and miseries that came along.

THE SAME DAY

The uprooted landscapes of Chandmari portrayed the picture of a significant development. It was a multi-speciality hospital and was being funded by the royal family of Awadh. The occurrence of diseases was common in this village. The construction with the introduction of new techniques was being executed to ensure that premium health facilities remained within the reach of villagers, who otherwise found it difficult to travel to cities now and then.

Surrounded by a few officials, Nawab-e-Awadh wiped the beads of perspiration on his forehead with a silken handkerchief as he looked through the ledgers stacked in front of him. So far, the progress of this project has been brilliant and the job of the supervisor was commendable. The entries and their calculations were accurate, the demand and supply chain were perfect and the methods implemented to complete the task were appreciable. However, there were some other data sets too which were required to be checked before he could complete his assessment. So, he made a call.

The dusk had fallen. The last of the sunrays were kissing the earth, promising a velvety darkness. Inayat Sahab was asked to report to the office immediately. She was at the site supervising the smooth passage of some medical equipment when this call came and she departed. She was aware of the anticipatory arrival of some administrative authority at the place so she marched quickly. She was oblivious to her fate as the gust of wind whispered the harmony of collision.

The office was not far away from the construction site. With the embodiment of a shade of grey by the surroundings, she was at the entrance. She knocked at the door slightly and then pushed it open as the cool breeze embraced her. But there was something else as well in that air. Her nose succumbed to it. An acquainted fragrance that lingered prominently, its traces carrying sandalwood, Arabian rose, mint and lavender essence blended in it. Oh, how she could forget it! She closed her eyes as if trying to recall. Her memory regarding this smell was so vivid, so playful, so enchanting. How she had driven along with him, on a tanga, through the old Awadh to choose a new fragrance for him that he could add to his collection of fragrances. How she had carefully and patiently taken her time to inspect each fragrance offered from the world of attars and how affectionately he had bought that fragrance of her choice and wore it daily. As the fragrance faded, her reverie shattered and she opened her eyes gradually. The dim-lit surroundings presented an appearance. The appearance, that was embedded within her existence. The appearance that was so neatly stored in the crevices of her memory. The appearance that often created her dreams. The appearance was the source of her miseries and vulnerability. The appearance whom they called Nawab-e-Awadh, the well-established industrialist of the country, and the respected royal of the state. But for her, he was Azhar, her Azhar Nawab. The man whom she loved so dearly once upon a time.

A whirlpool of memories swirled her away as she took in the rigidly straight frame, chiselled clean-shaven features, the mesmerizing aura, the unbeaten charm. She walked slowly towards him, her hands holding the documents tightly, so much so that her knuckles had turned white. As the autumn leaves fell, she had come across her past which had withered away just like a fallen leaf. His eyes, the black of his eyes, holding the depth of nights were just the same. It all looked the same from three years ago as if nothing had changed within him. His presence was still as impactful as before and his smile radiant. The resurfacing familiarity and memories burdened her heart. The emerging tears and evaporating calmness choked her throat. She feared losing control over her emotions in the public eye. She noticed his broad hand posed towards her. She tried to regain her composure, as she extended her hands for a tight handshake. A wave of unsettled comfort and infectious warmth passed through her body. Her heart pounded against her rib cage creating more space for ache. When she gradually matched his gaze, she witnessed turmoil in his eyes. His longing trance held her captivated. Over the years, she had mastered the art of looking through his soul and if by any chance she remembered the art today, she could easily decipher that Azhar smelled like grief. But didn't she smell the same, in the remnants of the raw pain?

Outside, in the background of darkness, as the autumn leaves fell, two individuals came across their past which had withered away just like a fallen leaf.

Quickly retreating, she waited for Azhar to sit and passed the map of the site she had brought along with her. She held on to the last piece of sanity as she took her seat across him. A series of flashes crossed her mind as they began their discussion regarding the project. Back in time, Inayat Sahab worked as a general assistant for the royal family of Awadh. She was a beginner, absolutely new to the professional world. She was still learning and it was Azhar who had groomed her professionally, set tough challenges for her to complete and added more skills to her profile. Amidst the constant rebuking and harsh reality checks from Sir Nawab, and the endless care and affection to ease the extent of hurt endured by her, the couple had found themselves deeply in love with each other. Theirs was a tale of unrequited love, as they belonged to different social classes. Their love was both beautiful and destructive. But it was a grave misunderstanding that drifted them apart, more than the social barriers. Both of them had manoeuvred themselves into a folly that had cost them their love.

"Ms Sahab, your management of work appears brilliant. The demand and supply of goods along with their storage is very well maintained. Could you please enlighten me on the areas that need more improvement?", his voice echoed in the surroundings breaking the trail of memories and stillness that had been created.

A wave of nervousness surged through Inayat as she forwarded a tabular data she had prepared with hard work. She very well knew about Azhar's liking and commitment to his work. He preferred precision, sincerity, hard work and professionalism. Over the next few minutes, Inayat described to her best what other major issues posed a hurdle in this project and how they could be improvised.

"Greetings, Mr Khan, I think the main bottlenecks here are transportation facilities and the lack of labourers...."

Azhar listened keenly to the words that flowed to him. All other noise in the surroundings went blank for him. He could listen to her immeasurably. He has been longing for the past three years. Her sudden appearance in the bland interior of this village had come as a surreal surprise for him. Just like a rhapsody. A whole three years had passed since he heard from her or saw her or began searching for her. Those words which were plain and neutral, were doing magic to his senses. He was known for his highly professional self, committed to the topic of discussion but right now, at that moment, he was lost in her presence. Over the years that they had spent together, Azhar had become an expert at deciphering her emotions and with the advancement of the conversation, he realised that Inayat too was suffering, just like he burnt every day, torn in repentance, finding it difficult to conceal a lot of unfathomable feelings that were a part and parcel of his life now. Fear, depression, anxiety, pain, sorrow, horror, misery and whatnot! Brutal heartbreaks often promise mutual melancholy, which no one had asked for.

Sometimes, we all urge desperately to change something in our past. This was that time for Nawab-e-Awadh, Azhar Ali Khan. He wanted to permanently erase that awful night from their lives when he had vented his fierce anger on Inayat, blaming her for cheating on him with his stepbrother. Only if he had not succumbed easily to the false information provided to him in their regard. Witnessing her struggling with her emotions to maintain her composure, made him realize that the scars he had given her, were still present. It was all his fault, his heinous shortcomings that he breached her trust and broke her in a way that was beyond repair. From his eyes which were termed as deep as an ocean, a drop of tear made its way only to get lost in his eyelids.

They were the companions of each other,

But their love was forlorn.

They were like the clouds and the sun's rays,

Together but torn.