The skyline of Perth fascinates me for some reason, I have never been  a fan of city life, the jam packed streets, the never sleeping lights, the non existing silence and polluted air had worn me out back in India. But here, among the unfamiliarity of the landscape there is something that draws my eyes, something that urges me to explore, see as much as I can, in the time I have in my hand.

I do not go home immediately as I had told Dr. Maheshwari while taking my leave. Instead I roam the streets leading away from hospital, that I have now grown accustomed to. It's been months since I came here first, and I had found myself a good guide in the form of my aged doctor who was only too happy to suggest the places I should visit and tell me exactly how to reach there.  

For some strange reason, perhaps the clarity of his instructions I had never got myself lost on the vast city in the heart of western Australia, instead I had found a few spots that I loved, even under the stranger cosmos.  

I had watched the sunset, sprinkling handfuls of gold across the water, watched the purple dusk rolling in as the water swallowed the last of light. And then I turned to go home, finally finding some energy to smile at Ma, when she asks me how my meeting with Dr. Maheshwari went. I had to bit my lip at the thought, I had not given it much attention as I kept distracting myself, I  had to share my decision with Ma and I had to convince her to let me have my way just for this once.

I knew she wouldn't listen. It was almost six months since we arrived at baba's home in the suburbs. I hated the idea of living with the people who took our place in his life, but thankfully they did not approach us much. My step mother met us a couple of times, first when she welcomed us to stay at her home allocating the two downstairs bedrooms for our use. Then sometimes she would make it a point to talk with Ma inquiring after my health.  She was trying to be polite, but there were six years worth bad blood between us that was not going to be washed off in six months.  

I did not see my step sister. I was informed that she lived by herself in her university hostel as many of the young people here did. She was an independent adult, who liked living on her own.  I could see my mother's horrified expression at that, my sister was hardly eighteen after all. But then again, she had grown up in a different surrounding. Her thought process might be different from ours. As I was told by my step mother, the room I was given had been hers. There were butterflies painted on the sandy color walls. A guitar sat in a corner by the window,  untouched and gathering dust. Its strings looked mournfully quiet,  as if missing the fingers that used to stroke them. I never touched it, although I was urged to, I did not play the guitar. I had never done so before.

So I was slightly surprised to hear the soulful music vibrating around the garden of Baba's cosy home when I went back that evening. What struck me more was the familiarity of that tune. Somewhere, back home, I had heard that tune. The door to the living room opened to reveal three people sitting in the florescent lit living area. The two middle aged women were my Ma and step mother, the young man with them, had the guitar perched on his knee, his fingers picking on the strings or switching between chords as he created that familiar melody.  As I walked in, he stopped playing and looked up, his brown gaze locking mine for a moment.  And then he smiled, I knew that smile, had dreamed of it for several nights, had once wondered if it would remain same when he grows old.

Standing in front of me in all his glory was Lakshya, smiling just as he had done that day at the losar celebration.

"Hi!" he said awkwardly.

*

The snapping sound of the closing door vibrated through its frame. I leaned against it, staring hard at the now darkening image outside the window in the opposite walls. Tears drained down my cheeks,  ran in tickling lines down my throat and soaked into the gray material of the blouse I wore. I did not care, not even when I knew they would ruin the mascara and turn my face hideous, I simply did not care anymore.

Running from hope was exhausting, especially when it decides to chase after you across continents. I had been battling with a tiny voice in the back of my head ever since I turned down his proposal at the losar festival. It had been constantly urging my imagination to torture me with views of an alternative time, where I had accepted him, where our lives were filled with nothing but laughter, sunshine and love. The only way I had managed to clutch into my sanity was by reminding myself how far we actually were, and how ridiculous it was to be thinking such infertile thoughts. Seeing him standing at my place, smiling like it had just been yesterday when we last met, was too much to take.

There was a gentle knock on the door, too soft after the rough welcome I had given him. It broke my heart further. I had hurt him constantly and he was still there.  Still waiting for me.

" Go away!" I said angrily wiping my tears with the back of my hands.  "Leave!"

"I will," he said in a calm tone, that did nothing to sooth the acidic burn in my eyes. "I will when you listen to what I have to say."

"I don't want to!" I refused to give into his words reaching out to pull me from my darkness.

" You never listened to me, now you have to.  I did not come all the way here to be turned down again."

"leave just leave!" A sob shivered in my tone, hoping it will silence him. In the pause that followed, I heard him sigh.

"I'll see you in the morning then, King's Park, at nine."

His footsteps retreated, diminishing their sound in the silence that hung itself thick around me. I slipped down the hardwood surface of the door, wrapping my arms around my knees, shaking from the power of my suppressed sobs.

*

The road is edged with trees, it take you straight to the botanical gardens where I had seen some of the most exotic flowers I had ever witnessed. I tried to keep my mind on that distant memory, or on the sensation of wind ruffling the escaped locks from my bun against my cheeks. Anything that would keep my mind off the thoughts concerning that long lost moment at Losar, when Lakshya had looked into my eyes with that hope reflected in his.

I did not want to come. But my heart had overruled that very logical decision.  I wanted to see him again, even if it was for one last time. It was a warm day, on the mid summer. The sun was hot against the back of my neck or on the skin of my arms. I was dressed in a light butter yellow blouse with short cuff sleeves and simple round neck, matching it to a knee length full skirt with ironed pleats of grayish blue. I had taken the liberty of finishing the assortment of clothes with one of my sister's hats, that fitted all too well around my hair and kept the glaring sun off my face.

Still my cheeks heated up, as I noted the look in his eyes when he saw me approaching. His dark brown eyes were tinted with gold of the sunlight, it even hinted at hidden browns in his dark hair.  He had picked up a dark blue shirt, paired it with pair of gray jeans and had his hands casually buried in his pockets.

"You did come," his tone was delighted.

I said nothing as we walked down the trail, it felt so familiar to stroll down these unknown paths through the bushland with him by my side. Our hands hanging down almost touching with each step and I could almost feel the heat radiating from him. The air around was slightly different now that his woodsy cologne had mixed with the wind.

"Why did you come?" I asked him in the end, stopping at the limestone edged path joining to a separate trial. He did not reply immediately, instead too my hand in his, long fingers fitting to the gaps between mine.

" Did you forget me after that day?" I choose not to reply, as he searched my eyes for a reply.  " I didn't. I thought of you every waking moment and dreamed of you every time I slept. Then I realized that this can't continue, I would go mad if I let you go again."

" You cannot hold me either, I'm only hanging around for a few months." I told him with a little humourless laugh.

"That's what you think," his voice cut across mine, firmly.  "You have a chance with the surgery, you Ma was saying the other day."

"And it has more chance of killing me," I said, in an empty tone. "It will only give us a moment of illusionary happiness."

"It want it then," he sounded too hopeful. "I want it even if it's a single moment."

"Even if its prize is an eternity of loneliness afterwards?" my vision blurs again and my voice choked on the words.  

"Would your answer be different if we had swapped places?  If I was the one leaving and you were to bear the separation?"

"You don't deserve it."

"Don't It deserve a moment of your life?"

I felt exhausted and excited at the same time. Everything I dared to wish for was knocking my door once more.

" Wouldn't you hate me after a while?" I wondered aloud.

His hand cups my jaw gently, thumb caressing my cheek in slow, soothing circles.

" Give yourself a chance. Give me, a chance. Come back to me. I really really love you so much."

The words washed over me, like the warm summer breeze. His eyes are boring into my soul as he waited for my answer.

"If I die in the surgery you will forget all about this." I said in a small voice. "Promise me!"

"If you survive the surgery you will marry me, would you promise that?"

Always positive, too stubborn to let go of his hopes. I grinned at those words, at the beautiful picture they painted.

"I do." There was no other answer I could possibly give, right?

*

" Give yourself a chance, give me a chance. I really really love you so much."

With those words replaying in my mind I had let the unconsciousness overtake me, before the surgery. With the same words I woke up, to a lazy silver sun light of one misty morning. For a moment all I could see was whiteness and the gleaming beams of sun. Was this heaven? I toyed with the idea for a moment. Then my weary eyes caught the glimpse of the woman sitting by my side, the outline of a sofa by the window and the bedside cabinet with a vase of sunflowers crossed my vision next.

I was alive, I had survived.  

"Ma," my voice was rusty, my throat sore from the time I did not use it. The woman jerked out of her thoughts to look down at me, her face glowing in joy. It wasn't Ma, but my step mother, Shermishta Gadodia.

" Where is Ma?" I asked her and her joy dimmed a little at my tone. Nevertheless she jumped to her feet and and after a moment returned with Ma. She was crying as she threw her arms around me, sobbing into my shoulder.  

" You're okay, you okay," she kept muttering as she patted my head. Over her shoulder I saw my step mother wipe a couple of tears too, Baba was standing at the door looking awkward and thankful at the same time.

"Where is Lakshya?" I asked in the end. I thought he would be here to see me wake up, for some reason Ma did not meet my eye as she replied.

"He is not here dear."

"Oh, where is he?" My eyes traveled from face to face as I asked them. There was something wrong in the air, something tightened around my throat.

" Did he go back to India?" I said said in the end, dejection heavy in my throat.

"You can see him when you go back," a new voice answered. I looked up to the beaming face of Dr. Maheshwari. " I can promise you that."

I returned his smile a little doubtfully. He looked older than I remembered. His eyes a little lighter, his hair a little thinner. It was as if years had passed since I saw him last.  Frowning slightly I turned my eyes upon my Ma, there were new streaks of gray in her hair, new smile lines in her face. My baba had regrown his beard, like the childhood days I remembered.

"Was I unconscious for a long time?" I wondered out loud, noting the changes in the people that surrounded me. My own family, who looked like strangers meeting after years. "This is still 2014 right?" I add with a chuckle.  Ma turn and look at Dr. Maheshwari who is watching me intently.

"This is 2016," he informs me in a serious tone.

Two years? I was unconscious for two years? And what exactly happened during that time? Was everything same as I remember, or not?

*