The night air in Jodhpur had that peculiar weight to it - cool, yet laced with the faint warmth of the day that lingered in the sandstone walls. We were sitting on the terrace of RAAS, the kind of place where the Mehrangarh Fort doesn’t just dominate the skyline — it breathes over you. Lit up in gold, it looked like an ancient guardian watching over the blue city.
Jhanvi sat opposite me, elbows resting on the low parapet, a cigarette between her fingers. Except tonight, it wasn’t a cigarette. She took a slow drag, eyes half-closed, then exhaled in lazy swirls that curled and disappeared into the darkness. Without a word, she offered me the joint.
“You should try it,” she said, a playful defiance in her tone.
I hesitated. I’d never touched the stuff before. But something about her — her restlessness, her untamed energy — made refusal impossible. I took it, awkwardly mimicking her grip, and inhaled far too quickly. The taste was sharp, unfamiliar, the smoke heavier than I expected. I coughed, she laughed, and for a brief moment, the heaviness in her eyes lifted.
When the laughter faded, she spoke.
“They wanted to marry me off last year,” she began, voice low but steady. “A man I barely knew. From a family that ticked all their boxes. Same community, same… caste bullshit.” She paused to light another joint, the flame briefly illuminating the sharp lines of her face. “But I… I’d already been with someone. A boy from outside our community. We were in love or at least I thought we were. When my parents found out, it was war at home. Screaming matches. Broken plates. My mother crying as if I’d committed some crime. My father… he didn’t speak to me for weeks.”
Her gaze drifted toward the fort, its ramparts unyielding. “They told me I’d ruined the family name. And when I said I wanted to be an air hostess… they laughed. Said no decent girl does that. Said it’s just a step away from…” She trailed off, shaking her head. “You get the idea.”
I nodded, unsure if she wanted comfort or simply someone to absorb her words.
“So I left,” she said simply. “Packed my bag one night and walked out. No plan, no money worth speaking of. Just enough to keep me going until I found work.” She took another drag and passed it to me again. This time I inhaled slower, my head already light from the first.
The city below was hushed except for the occasional bark of a street dog. The lights from the houses shimmered faintly through the haze. She went on, her voice softer now. “You know, I act like I’m fine. But some nights… it feels like I’ve been walking away from home for years, and I still haven’t arrived anywhere.”
Her hand trembled slightly as she exhaled. I didn’t know if it was from the cold or from everything she had just let out. And then, without warning, she broke. Tears rolled down her cheeks, her breathing uneven.
I leaned forward, resting my hand on hers. “You’re stronger than anyone gave you credit for,” I said. “Not because you ran away, but because you stayed true to yourself when it would’ve been easier to give in.”
Her lips curved into the faintest smile through the tears. She looked at me for a long moment, as though weighing the truth in my words, then leaned in and wrapped her arms around me. The scent of her hair, the warmth of her body against mine — it felt like a fragile peace she was granting me.
We stayed like that until the sounds of the city blurred into the background. Eventually, she took my hand and led me downstairs toward her room. The night folded over us, the lights of Mehrangarh still watching from above, as if guarding the quiet that followed.
The room was dimly lit, the sounds of the city muffled by the thick curtains. Jhanvi’s eyes held mine for a long moment, the air between us heavy with unspoken things. She stepped closer, her hand brushing mine - light at first, then certain. There was no rush. Just the quiet rhythm of two people caught in the pull of the same moment. She unbuttoned my shirt; I held her, feeling the warmth of her breath against me, as we made love. Whatever came next was wordless. The night folded over us, and somewhere in that slow blur of heartbeats and touch, we drifted into sleep.
To be continued....
Comments
Post a Comment