This is the story of a man who knows only how to fulfil responsibilities. Rupert Mornington has been doing that for as long as he can remember. He has responsibilities towards a daughter who was never his, a mother who abandoned him, a brother who loves him and a brother who hates him. Among all these responsibilities will he ever get a time for love? Shimonthini Hazra did not become Monique because of desires but because of duties. She had to protect her family name from her infamous ambition. Ambition was never respected in the family she came from, not for a girl and not without a husband's name behind hers. But Monique created a name for herself. But when she really wanted a man's name behind hers she settled for what she could get only to be deprived by fate. Would she accept the man she was forced to marry by her sense of duty? Can there blossom love in the times of undeniable commitments? "My freedom has been offered on a leash and so is yours. A man has needs that I am not unaware of. To curb them one needs two things religious discipline or selfless love. Love me or leave me, Rupert. I deserve as much." Shimonthini begged. In her begging the Monique inside her recognized that Shimonthini had grown up from an infatuated teenager, gone through the stage of depressed adulthood and had finally reached the selfless love of maturity for in her request for the freedom she was liberating the man she had now grown to love. "You doubt my loyalty to you. I never doubt yours. Love is a misused word but if I had to consider only the emotions behind it I would say that I already love you." Rupert said running his fingers through her dark hair. His words were a caress in themselves, a gentle touch that made Shimonthini close her eyes till tears rolled down. "I know if circumstances were different I would never have been your first choice or the last. I don't want you to settle for me Rup and I won't settle for you."
The fear of Darkness doesn't stem from the dark itself but rather everything it takes away from us. Darkness is perhaps the scariest element because it is the lack of light, the lack of warmth and a lack of life. A child does not scream when the lights are out because the darkness threatens her. It is the lack of the assurance the presence of her parents provide. But sometimes the presence pushes one towards more darkness.
"We are your parents. We know what is best for you? Do you want to grow old and alone with cats? What will the people tell us, that we let you waste your life by chasing dreams? You may chose to be a child but we have to take the adult decision here. You are getting married in a fortnight and that is it."
"But Ma, I am barely eighteen. I have my whole life ahead of me. I want to travel the world, watch the opera, design dresses for queens and princesses. There is so much that I can do. I cannot be tied with a man almost twice my age with no ambitions whatsoever."
"Ambitions? What you call ambition is foolishness. You will die a lonely woman, I tell you and we won't we there to take care of you. You really think that we would abandon you to such a fate. We are your parents."
"All you think of is what people will say. Why can't I take care of myself. I do not have to be alone. I can adopt a child and bring him up. I will not end up alone but I need to find myself."
"Are you even listening to yourself. What you are talking about is impossible. You need a man. You are a woman. How can you forget that?"
"I can be my own man, Ma. I just want to make a name for myself."
"You are not making a name for yourself with our name attached to yours."
"Then so be it."
"You are getting married to the boy of our choice."
That is if you can hold me in this place for so long.
It was a dark night. The fire burning violently nearby failed to permeate the thick blanket of nothingness that enveloped the broken frame of the woman hunched in her own misery. Her wavy black heir was a tangled mess. There was blood clotted on her forehead that she did not bother to wipe. Her light brown eyes looked around in a daze failing to register the place or the situation. The shadows of the trees played hide and seek with the rising flame, an immortal dance of light and dark, good and evil. She had lost much that night. She had lost the last remains of the strength to make it out on her own.
The droning of the ambulance, the police cars and the fire trucks seemed to resonate with the droning of the insects in the nearby trees, none more prominent and none irrelevant. Hands went up to feel the throbbing sensation in her head before she realized where she was. She laid at the base of a tree, entangled among its roots, her body none so different from the giant structures pushing against every aching muscle of her body. Before long she had been discovered by the drone rescue team. A ghastly memory of what had happened represented itself from the bandages over her head and her hand worn in sling. The night had took from her the one sense of belonging she had possessively called her own.
"Miss are you alright", a rescue worker asked.
The woman barely nodded.
"Ma'am can you give us your name or an emergency contact number that we may reach?" He asked her cajoling.
"Henry Monet, but he is currently in France." she said sighing. The name of the famous music director sent a smirk up the rescue worker's face. He thought she must have really hit her head hard, shook his head and stepped away. That was when another man in uniform stepped near her, older and more experienced.
"Ma'am can you tell us your name and address?" he asked.
It was then the battered woman looked up for the first time with amusement on her lips. "My name is Monique Durant. I have been living at the Merlin Penthouse. Can you escort me there?" she said. Inspector Simms did not miss the note of sorrow in her eyes but he recognized the name immediately.
"I am sorry Ma'am but we need to get you checked. Would you mind accompanying my men to the hospital?" he asked.
Monique nodded and was soon led away in a police vehicle.