anju

Ram walked into their room, early morning sunshine drifting through the window. His hair still damp from his bath but he could care less as he made his way to Bheem's figure watering the plants on the window sill.

A cold and sore throat from not drying his hair be damned, he wanted to be close to the other. He wanted to touch him, be next to him, kiss his forehead and his cheeks and his lips. He wanted nothing more but to drown in his presence until all he knew was Bheem, all his world was Bheem.

He placed his hands around the other's waist, gathering him into a back hug. His lips pressed soft kisses on his beloved's shoulders before resting his head on it. Taking a moment, he marveled at the gorgeous face that looked back at him.

"Good morning" he murmured, his voice softer than the petals of the flower Bheem was tending to.

"Good morning" Bheem replied, setting down the water container to turn around and kiss him.

Ram melted into the other's arms, shutting his eyes and losing himself in the soft lips and even softer caresses. When they pulled apart, he hesitated to open his eyes, wanting this to last a little longer.

But Bheem had already moved away, getting ready to focus on his next set of plants.

"You always wake up so early and leave me in an empty bed. Leaving me to tend to your plants."

"Don't be dramatic Ram, the plants are on the window sill right next to the bed" Bheem retorted, waving towards their bed that was indeed, right there, "Perhaps you should stop waking up so late."

Bheem threw a teasing glance at Ram when he said the last sentence, knowing full well he hated waking up early.

Ram swatted at him, removing his arms from his waist only to place it around the other's shoulders.

"Whatever"

A comfortable silence fell over them, smiles not leaving their faces as Bheem worked and Ram moved in sync with him.

This had become a sort of routine for them. In fact entire days would pass with Bheem and Ram working around the house and the village, just staying by each other's side, moving in sync. He'd be lying if he said he didn't like the monotony. There was a peace in it, a peace in being in Bheem's presence.

Ram couldn't think of a life without this peace. The thought sent shivers down his spine. Deep down he knew it was irrational, how he latched on, craving the other's touch at all times. But he didn't care. He didn't want to care,scared that thinking too much of it would break the serenity that surrounded him these days.

"Bheem!" "Anna!" "Bheem!" "Anna!"

A string of voice cut through their blanket of silence, coming from outside their door. Bheem was quick to move, immediately rushing towards the door.

Ram followed close on his heel, swiping the dagger he kept in one of their shelves. Such habits had been ingrained in him from years of working for a revolution. Expecting danger was muscle memory at this point.

When he reached at the door he saw three familiar faces he'd seen around the village. They were young and they often helped around with Bheem. His grip on the dagger held behind his back loosened. They looked haggard and helpless, eyes glistening with fear and urgency.

"What is it? What happened?" Bheem asked, voice clouding with worry.

"It's.. it's Baburao. He's hurt" one of them gasped out.

"We were hunting and we know we should've notified an elder but we didn't and. And he was chasing and he almost got mauled and he rolled down the side of the hill over there and there was so much blood and"

Bheem reached out a hand and placed it on the boy's shoulder, making him stop his nervous blabbering.

"It's going to be fine. Is it the northern part or the jungle?"

They nodded with large scared eyes.

Bheem exhaled, hardening his features. "Take me to him."

Ram looked at him, opening his mouth to say he'll come too but he was cut off before he could even begin.

"No. The northern side of the jungle is dangerous, it's difficult to even get to and you have to be very skilled to navigate that place. You stay here."

His shoulders slumped at the words, an unexplainable dread forming in the pit of his stomach.

Bheem offered him a small smile, meant to be reassuring, "And moreover, Sita is coming to visit today. You should stay and welcome her don't you think?"

Ram nodded, ignoring the weird emotions that was trying to fill his heart.

"I'll be back." He whispered and with that he was rushing out of their compound, asking the boys questions as they went.

Ram stood there, watching his back retreat until it disappeared into the edges of the lush green forest. A feeling of deja vu hit him, the kind that caused a chill down his spine and left a cold sweat on his back.

Slowly, he walked back into their hut.

The time went by painstakingly slow, each minute dragging on as the gentle morning sunshine turned into the harsh afternoon glare. Ram sat in the corner of their bed, without moving.

He was trying to ignore all that was going on inside his mind. There was weird pang he felt in his chest once in a while that would cause him to shift slightly. His brain couldn't come with anything to do. A vague thought asked him to have lunch but he waved it away.

The dread had fully formed in his stomach and was clawing its way up, slowly and menacingly. He felt like vomiting.

The air around him felt thick, sluggish as it entered his lungs. It made him feel heavy, like the very act of rising and falling his chest to breathe was getting difficult by the minute.

The thought that asked him to have lunch, to move, to do something seemed more frantic now.

His throat felt dry. He needed water.

'Get up Ram.' His mind screamed at him. He tried to pinpoint whose voice his mind was resembling.

Slowly, as if moving in a vat of syrup, he got up. His head felt dizzy but he kept walking. Step after step, eyes blank and mind filled with only one goal.

'Get water.'

Whose voice was his mind talking to him with?

Reaching the kitchen, he poured himself a glass of water, the chill of the glass feeling icy in his palm.

'Now drink'

Whose voice was it, that even subconsciously, he would listen to it?

He pressed the glass to his lips, the first sip feeling like a wave of new life in him.

He could breathe a bit easy for a minute, mind clearing up from from haze in which he had just sat in for hours.

'Bheem. It was Bheem's voice.' His mind answered.

And suddenly he was on the front step watching Bheem's silhouette vanish into the greenery.

"Bheem." A traitorous whisper that cut through the silence around him.

The dread reached his mouth, mixing with the water he just drank.

And he was in the dry outskirts of Delhi, watching Bheem's back leave into the horizon, Malli on his shoulders as the soldiers pressed on to his body.

"Bheem."

The oxygen around him ran out and his throat clamped shut.

The glass slipped out of his hand, metal ringing on the floor as the water spilled everywhere.

Ram was in the cell now. His ears ringing with the sound of the whip and a vague feeling that the blood oozing out might be his.

"Bheem"

His heart twisted with a other pang, pain flooding his chest and coursing through his body. He felt dizzy and the room was spinning. The walls were warping. The floor was tilting and soon, it was hitting his head.

The room was sideways now and there was a dull throb coming from somewhere. There were sobs too but he didn't know whose. He opened his mouth to breathe but he couldn't do anything but gape, choking on the lack of air around him.

"Bheem". He was no longer aware whether he was saying it out loud or thinking it.

The water that had spilled on the floor moved towards him in what felt like slow motion. It touched his face and mixed with the salty tears that streamed from his eyes.

He was in the solitary cell now. The darkness closing in around him, suffocating him. Embracing him as his vision faltered and breathing stopped.

Bheem.

"Ram!" He heard a distant voice scream, it was too far, like an echo from the other end of a long tunnel.

A hand came into his dimming vision, lightly slapping his face but he only saw it, not feel it.

"Ram! Please get up!"

He was vaguely aware of the fact that it was Sita, her concerned voice familiar to his ears. He could see her moving about through his blurred vision.

Water was being splashed on his face. And his body was being dragged into a more straight position. And a hand was slapping him, keeping from drifting into the dark underground cell.

"Breathe. Please. Ram for the love of God. You have to breathe." Sita's voice was getting slightly clearer, like it was coming from above his head.

Another splash of cold water. Some semblance of a clarity.

His brain was begging him to breathe too. He could hear his thoughts now.

He opened his mouth. His chest constricted. And like a spring released from a tight pull, his lungs let go and heaved in a gulp of air.

He kept going like that for a while, big breaths of air that rushed through his body and cleared his vision. Gradually, after what felt like am eternity, he began breathing through his nose, rhythmically and slowly.

That was when Sita slumped down, letting out a sigh.

They sat in silence for a while before she finally spoke, "You need to get up. Go wash your face."

The next few minutes went on like that. With Sita guiding him through simple tasks until he was settled into his bed after having some food with a fresh set of clothes and a dry face devoid of tears.

Sita sat on the corner of the bed and offered him a glass of water.

"Drink."

Ram accepted it in silence. He had not said a single word since she had entered. He didn't know what to start with.

He drank the whole glass and when he gave it back, he breathed out a "Thanks".

His voice sounded rough, like it had screamed for too long. Had he been screaming? He didn't know.

Sita's face softened as she sighed.

"Do you want to talk about it? Tell me what that was about?"

"Not really."

She nodded in understanding, getting up and keeping the glass on their night stand. Ram watched her as she went about the house, clearing the mess he had created by dropping the water on the floor. He felt bad, like he should be doing it instead. But he knew Sita wouldn't let him. One stern look from her face and he'd be back in the bed.

She finally sat down, settling into the chair in the corner. Ram couldn't help but smile. Sita had always been like this. Being there for him. Being his family. Being the shoulder he cried on.

"I can't stand the thought of Bheem being away from me." He whispered, letting the thought he was holding to go out in the open. He regretted it instantly and wished she hadn't heard him.

Sita looked at him, tilting her head in confusion until realization dawned on her.

"You're afraid he'll leave from your life?"

The question hit him like barreling wall of bricks as he stared at her with his mouth open. He took a moment to collect himself.

"Yes" Ram gave a weak reply, even quieter than his earlier whisper.

She sat silent for a while, carefully analyzing what to say next. Ram wanted to burry himself in the blankets, the shame of what he had just said creeping into his cheeks. What had he just admitted to? How could he think that Bheem would leave him? The man who loved him day and night? The man who looked at him so fondly he could happily melt in it?

Yet it wasn't a thought that had just occurred to him. It had always brewed in the deepest parts of his mind. The thought that Bheem would disappear from his life. The very notion of his absence eating away from within.

Sita spoke, breaking his train of thoughts, "Ram, Look around you."

Ram focused on Sita, eyebrows gathering in confusion.

"What?"

"I said look around you." She repeated, continuing, "You are lying in a bed that you both share, in a room that is your's and Bheem's. You live in a house along with Bheem in Bheem's village. You live with him. Leave you? You are his home now Ram. You're the person he comes back to at the end of the day. Both of you are each other's and nothing could change that."

Ram stared at Sita, her words registering too slowly in his head.

Their bed. Their house. His home.

"You both can't be absent from each other's life if you are each other's life." She finished, sitting back comfortably, happy with what she said.

Oh.

He didn't say anything after that. Neither of them did. His mind processed what he was told and his body rested from what he had just gone through.

Later in the evening, when Sita had gone out to get some food for them, Bheem entered the room. He tried to be silent about it but Ram awoke all the same.

When their eyes met, Bheem spoke "I met Sita while coming. She told me what happened"

Ram dragged his body up and Bheem came near, tentative. But he pulled his lover into an embrace, crashing into his chest.

"I'm here. I'm here." Bheem whispered to the top of his head, pressing kisses on him.

Ram cried. This time he was aware of his tears and his sobs. He pulled closer until his world was just Bheem once again.

"I'm sorry." Ram said between hiccups apologizing for everything known and unknown.

"It's alright" Bheem replied.

And it did feel alright. Of course this wouldn't be the last instance where Ram would break. It was inevitable. Ram was a flaming fire that burned itself, a coal that singed and scorched through itself. He was jagged and harsh, digging into his own self.

But something told him he would be alright. That here, in their house, in his Bheem's arms, in their home, he'll heal. He was here, they were there and everything would be alright.