Wishing (Bollywood fic)
Title: Wishing (I suck at titles)
Rating: PG I guess.
Fandom: Bollywood (movie Parineeta)
Spoiler warning: it WILL spoil the movie for you (though not the ending). Also, don't own blah blah.
Summary: He will come back and ask and receive forgiveness simply because she does not know herself without him. (For those who have seen the movie, this is at the end of the flashback).
Note: this still needs some work and I am tinkering with it.
Girish is the kindest man she’s ever met. Any girl would jump with joy on hearing his offer of marriage. He is nice, he is caring, he is rich. She does not want him.
His eyes look at her with warmth and love. They are gentle eyes in a kind rumpled face. She would never have to fear temper or bad humor. She wouldn’t have to worry about his sulking, on his unmade bed, smoking cigarette after cigarette and refusing to get up, for some cause too trivial to remember. He will not forget occasions, ceremonies, birthdays. He won’t sing to her (she’s heard him, he is terrible), and he won’t sneak sweets to her when she is sick, and feverish, and 12. He won’t whisper nonsense in her ears as they walk down a dusty street and she bursts into giggles, muffled slightly for fear of the looks of the passerby.
He is respectful and has never touched her, save in common, general greeting. She remembers Shekhar’s arms around her, drawing her close. She remembers the feel of his skin, and the taste of his mouth, and the look in his eyes.
She’s seen movies and read books where a rich boy falls in love with the neighboring girl who is poor. It’s a favorite topic. There is usually tragedy and suicide, or the reconciliation of families. She is far too practical to think of self-destruction, and she can’t imagine Shekhar’s father relenting, in tears, welcoming her in.
She wonders what would happen if she marched into the neighboring mansion and claimed her right. Reminding him she is a wife in front of everyone, demanding to be recognized in front of his family. She can’t imagine that even in the privacy of her mind, however. No proof, no witnesses, and his anger a solid bar between them. His father called her a whore. She has her pride, and now the first step must be his.
If only she did not miss him so, the temper, the teasing, the warm voice. He will come back and ask and receive forgiveness simply because she does not know herself without him. And until then she has her pride and it will see her through. She is done with pleading, with crying, with useless what-ifs. He will have to come for her now.
And then there is Girish. Lolita likes his eyes. They are not like Shekhar’s eyes, full of pain and rage. Any girl would want to give him her heart. But she can’t, as it’s years too late for her. She had liked Shekhar before she knew what liking was. She thought he was kind, and generous, and autocratic. He let her have all his pocket money, and he tugged at her hair, and her day started and ended with him filling all the moments in between.
Girish is not unpredictable or spoiled. He did not reject her, flinging her from him, hurting her more than she thought possible. Girish is what she should want. She cannot.
Rating: PG I guess.
Fandom: Bollywood (movie Parineeta)
Spoiler warning: it WILL spoil the movie for you (though not the ending). Also, don't own blah blah.
Summary: He will come back and ask and receive forgiveness simply because she does not know herself without him. (For those who have seen the movie, this is at the end of the flashback).
Note: this still needs some work and I am tinkering with it.
Girish is the kindest man she’s ever met. Any girl would jump with joy on hearing his offer of marriage. He is nice, he is caring, he is rich. She does not want him.
His eyes look at her with warmth and love. They are gentle eyes in a kind rumpled face. She would never have to fear temper or bad humor. She wouldn’t have to worry about his sulking, on his unmade bed, smoking cigarette after cigarette and refusing to get up, for some cause too trivial to remember. He will not forget occasions, ceremonies, birthdays. He won’t sing to her (she’s heard him, he is terrible), and he won’t sneak sweets to her when she is sick, and feverish, and 12. He won’t whisper nonsense in her ears as they walk down a dusty street and she bursts into giggles, muffled slightly for fear of the looks of the passerby.
He is respectful and has never touched her, save in common, general greeting. She remembers Shekhar’s arms around her, drawing her close. She remembers the feel of his skin, and the taste of his mouth, and the look in his eyes.
She’s seen movies and read books where a rich boy falls in love with the neighboring girl who is poor. It’s a favorite topic. There is usually tragedy and suicide, or the reconciliation of families. She is far too practical to think of self-destruction, and she can’t imagine Shekhar’s father relenting, in tears, welcoming her in.
She wonders what would happen if she marched into the neighboring mansion and claimed her right. Reminding him she is a wife in front of everyone, demanding to be recognized in front of his family. She can’t imagine that even in the privacy of her mind, however. No proof, no witnesses, and his anger a solid bar between them. His father called her a whore. She has her pride, and now the first step must be his.
If only she did not miss him so, the temper, the teasing, the warm voice. He will come back and ask and receive forgiveness simply because she does not know herself without him. And until then she has her pride and it will see her through. She is done with pleading, with crying, with useless what-ifs. He will have to come for her now.
And then there is Girish. Lolita likes his eyes. They are not like Shekhar’s eyes, full of pain and rage. Any girl would want to give him her heart. But she can’t, as it’s years too late for her. She had liked Shekhar before she knew what liking was. She thought he was kind, and generous, and autocratic. He let her have all his pocket money, and he tugged at her hair, and her day started and ended with him filling all the moments in between.
Girish is not unpredictable or spoiled. He did not reject her, flinging her from him, hurting her more than she thought possible. Girish is what she should want. She cannot.