#khansar

[petitworld]

Khansar, Isfahan, Iran by Sajjad Saadat

[alezangona]

A Little Salaar Rant:

Rewatched Salaar again for the nth time and am just so curious as to how the sequel is going to go.

Like number one, a part of me believes that Aadhya is a misdirect as a love interest because in the nicest way, Deva and Varadha are too into each other to care about anyone else. I really don’t think that anything Aadhya says or does can make Deva prioritize her over Varadha (when it comes to matters of safety- like if someone was holding a gun to both of their heads, he’d be picking Varadha no doubt). Even in their interview where they were describing what they take away from their characters:

• Prithvi talked about how Varadha feels incomplete without Deva.

• Prabhas talked about how Deva’s priority is Varadha first, then his mother, and now Aadhya.

• Shruthi talked about how Aadhya doesn’t even belong here and how she just accidentally wandered in and how her character is important in driving the plot forward.

I feel like in the end, they’re just gonna make her a love interest because that’s usually how these films go. But that feels so weird in the context of this movie because it wouldn’t really fit into the character dynamics that have been established. A part of me hopes that she can just be a friend at the end of it all, especially since her and Deva will probably have a side quest as they deal with the asthikalu. But anything more than that wouldn’t really feel just to the story at hand. In my opinion anyway.

And number two, the plot of the next movie will concentrate on the war between Deva and Varadha. I’m so interested about how they’re going to play that out because I cannot picture either of these two wanting to actually hurt each other. It even feels like in Prithvi’s entry scene, Varadha doesn’t look excited by the fact they’ve found Deva. Instead, he kind of just looks tired/done/like there’s a burden on his shoulders. Most probably because he doesn’t want to actually kill or hurt Deva. I feel like he’d rather just turn a blind eye to his location than actually hurt him.

In terms of how the movie ends too, I know Prashant talked about how the last scene of the movie will be the same as the first scene in the movie. Which makes me think that it might end with Deva dying, because what happens in the first scene is Deva doing what he has to in order to protect Varadha. Like maybe the movie will end with the current pole! But that would be so sad… like I need both of them to survive and live out their lives together. Or, if one goes, the other goes with because with how intertwined their souls are, I don’t think either can really survive with the other being completely gone.

I think a big part of me is just hoping that they’ll end up together at the end of it all because their actions showcase nothing but love and regard for the other. It’s something that goes beyond friendship (every interaction that happened between them has literally happened before in other movies with straight couples). I don’t think I have enough faith in Indian cinema at this point in this to truly believe they’ll let Varadha and Deva become a couple.

But I really wish they would because it’s about time. Also, you can’t have a story this big and dramatic, rooted in the story of these two characters who would literally do anything for each other in a setting as bloodthirsty as Khansar, and think that it isn’t a story about love. Ya know?

Also random, but a part of was also thinking about the conflict that happened in Khansar that led to Deva and his mom having to leave a second time. Like post that is when Amma probably really got scared of the power of her son and truly realized what he was capable of in the hands of Varadha. Especially because from my perspective, whatever blood bath occurred that led to Deva feeling guilty (cuz blood on his hands) has to have occurred because he needed to protect Varadha. So even though what happened probably wasn’t directly Varadha’s fault, I kinda of want to see Varadha and Amma being able to meet each other in 2017 and there be a tension in their relationship too. Where Amma probably is wary of Varadha since she knows the power he has over her son and where Varadha probably just feels this sense of unease because how do you confront someone who was like a mother to you?

In general, this is just a rant as I watch and rewatch and try to process my own thoughts. I feel like I know mostly how the plot is going to go and what to expect out of the second film. But there’s also the bigger part of me that hopes that instead of taking the generic way out (the way most series and movies seem to be doing now) the creators will take the time to do justice to the film and to the characters by allowing it to be what it is, rather than fitting into some mold of their own expectations.

[parsabad]

Khansar/ Iran

Camera: alireza moghimi

[alezangona]

Every time I scroll through the Salaar tag, I start to wonder if Prashanth, Prabhas, and Prithvi know about the existence of this app.

Like I don’t know if they’ll ever realize the true impact of this little movie they created because we are wildin over here, thoroughly fixated on all these bitches.

[alezangona]

The Sweetest of Nights

My Submission for #varadevaloveday!

Deva squints through one eye, focusing on the sapota that hangs from the tree’s highest branch, slingshot pulled back and ready to disarm. He hesitates for a moment, tucking in his lips as he moves his hand just slightly lower to fix his position. Then, taking in a deep breath, he releases the shot. 

The rock sails through the air, making its way to the mark, before missing it by a hair’s breadth. The rock tumbles to the ground joining its fellow fallen comrades in a small heap. 

Deva curses, irritation passing across his features and he runs his fingers through his thick curls, wanting nothing more than to tug them out of his head as the humidity smothers his dwindling patience. 

“Your curls are your money makers, idiot. Don’t go bald already, it’s bad for our reputation.” Deva huffs, turning around to look at his friend, unamused. 

“You try to spend fifteen minutes failing to shoot down fruit in this weather and let me know how you fare.” Varadha just smiles at that, plucking the slingshot out of Deva’s hand. He picks up a stone from the ground, throwing it up and down as he tests the weight. Seeming satisfied with whatever result he was looking for, he loads it into the shot and aims up towards the top of the tree. Within the blink of an eye, the rock disappears from his grip and the sapota falls to the ground, only to be picked up by Varadha.

“Here!” He places it into Deva’s waiting hand. 

Deva wants to look unaffected by it all. But seeing Varadha’s face breaking into a pleased grin at the thought of being able to do something that made Deva’s life easier stops him in his tracks. He doesn’t understand why that smile is so disarming, to the point that it has stopped his breath at times. Or why even just a hint of it makes him lose track of his thoughts, mind wandering instead to the flawless shape of Varadha’s lips that resemble the curve of Madhana’s bow. So, he looks down at the fruit in hand, peeling it as he tries to calm the pounding of his heart. 

“Here.” He hands Varadha half of the fruit, looking up at him once more. Deva didn’t think it could be possible, but Varadha’s smile deepens further at the gesture and he pops the fruit into his mouth, eyes closing in pleasure as the sweetness of the taste overcomes the humidity of the summer day. 

Nothing else needs to be said as they spend another hour among the grove, Varadha shooting and Deva peeling the fruits. Sometimes they’d stand together, watching as their mark would hit the ground. At other times, they’d sit under the shade, chewing leisurely as they discussed anything and everything, including how much they were annoyed by Rudra and his gang of miscreants.

“So…” Finally, Varadha turns towards Deva, wringing his sticky hands together. “My dad gave me money earlier today as a gift for doing well on last week’s exam. I was thinking, maybe you and I can use that today to go to the fair?” 

“I thought you were trying to save up to buy that game?” Deva’s brows pull together as he studies Varadha. “Why the fair?”

Varadha shrugs, his long face turning off to the side. Once again, Deva is overcome by the sheer beauty of Varadha’s profile among the light of the setting sun that bounces off the greenery of the grove, to which he could find no other comparison but the intricate sculptures that lined temple walls. 

“It’s your birthday tomorrow and I know your dad is going to be taking you and Amma out of town for a few days to celebrate. I just wanted to spend time with you before then.” 

Warmth spreads through Deva’s body like wildfire at the statement. He knows how important that game is to Varadha considering it’s the first thing he will ever gift his brother Baachi. He’d been saving up for months to buy the Chaturanga set by Rakhi, hoping to teach his younger brother all the strategies the way his father taught him. Yet, he’s willing to put his goal aside for a second just to what? Celebrate Deva’s birthday? 

“We don’t have to do that, Varadha.” Deva remarks as he nudges his shoulder, brimming with happiness at the implication of Varadha caring about him. For a second, Varadha’s face falls and his hand comes to scratch against the back of his neck. 

“You have other plans then for tonight?” 

“No, that’s not what I’m saying and you know it.” Deva tilts his head, gazing rather fondly at his friend. It always amused him how Varadha seemed to be the smartest boy he knew, yet the dumbest at the same time. Charming. “I’m saying that I don’t need to be at a festival with you to enjoy my birthday. I’m just as happy here as I would be over there. What it ends up coming down to is you, ra. There’s no need to go around doing something like wasting your money on me when you should be saving it up for Baachi.”

“You’re so thick-skulled sometimes.” Varadha shoves his shoulders, sending Deva tumbling towards the roots before springing back to his original place. “I’m asking because I want to do this with you, asshole. So, can we just go and celebrate before you disappear for an entire week?” 

Deva couldn’t possibly say no.

~*~

“It’s your birthday, Deva. I’m pretty sure I should be getting you something, not the other way around.” Varadha huffs as he tries to settle the giant toy Deva won him somewhere across his shoulders. Deva refuses to hold back his laughter at the sight of the big, orange monkey draped colorfully across the black canvas of Varadha’s lanky frame. At the sight of the laughter, Varadha replies with a playful push against his arm, almost toppling over when he forgets to balance out the extra weight of the stuffed animal. 

Deva catches him in the nick of time, pulling with slightly too much power that it brings him and Varadha chest-to-chest, so close that he could make out the fading details of a dark mark on Varadha’s cheek. He swallows tightly, not understanding the sudden constriction of his chest as Varadha’s gaze meets his, so open and tender, despite the annoying primate dangling behind him. 

“Learn how to be careful will you? I won’t always be around to catch you, you clutz.” Deva means for it to sound firm, but is almost embarrassed by how breathy it comes out of him. Varadha doesn’t seem to notice however as he steps away with a roll of his eyes.

“Please, there isn’t anything we could fight about that would break us up like that.” Finally, he ties the legs of the animal around his waist, a triumphant gleam in his eyes when it stays in place. “Hell yeah! Finally figured it out!”

“You know you also could’ve given it away or left it on the streets? It’s just a toy.” Deva laughs, catching up to him again.

“Are you insane? It’s mine now. I’m not parting from it for all the gold in the world.” 

They spend the rest of the night aimlessly wandering around the festival. Sometimes they play the games set up by vendors, winning too many prizes by the end of it all, that they end up giving them away to the smaller kids around them. They go up to the food stalls, ordering chaat and sharing it as they watch people go by, idly commenting on what must be going on in each of their lives. They hop on the roller coaster, pendulum, and wipeout in quick succession, taking a moment to soothe their stomachs by riding in a swan boat across the small pond. 

Finally as the night draws to an end, Varadha tugs a pleasantly tired Deva along to grab a bag of cotton candy that he insists they eat on the Ferris Wheel where they can get the best view of Khansar. They walk through the crowds of people, under the glowing canopy of lights, dragging the monkey and bag of cotton candy behind them as they make their way towards the giant circle that looms over the festival. To Varadha, it looks like it could almost be as big as his Shiva Mannar’s court. Though, that might just be because of the balmy buzz that was overtaking him this night as he spends time in Deva’s presence.

He hadn’t let Deva know, but Varadha has been on edge for days now as the family trip approaches. It’s selfish of him to want Deva near him at all times when he knows how much Deva looks forward to the outings since Dhaara is a busy man and can only spend so much time with his family. But when he is able to make time, he takes them to some of the most beautiful locations across the world. 

During a dinner at his home one night, Deva expressed his favorite place so far had been the Channakeshava temple in Belur, where he claimed the intricacy of the sculptures was so mesmerizing that he felt as if his eyes weren’t enough to take in the beauty. Dhaara meanwhile, explained to Varadha with pride how the temple took three generations, over the span of a hundred years, to be built, and despite how many times it was pillaged and plundered, it was repeatedly rebuilt and repaired and has lasted to this day. 

Then, Dhaara looked at Varadha, really looked at him, stating the history of the temple wasn’t quite so different from that of Khansar. That the beauty of this city too, came not only from its foundation but its ability to grow and thrive despite the toils it faced during its history. There was something about the conviction in his tone that shook Varadha to the core and he could suddenly understand why his grandfather had such a soft spot for this man. Then Dhaara’s demeanor changed and he was back to being a jovial man who’s charming nature was enough to light up the dim room they were sitting in. 

That night, as Deva walked him home, he handed him a picture he had taken of one of the sculptures with a shrug, stating how he didn’t have to take it. It was just something he saw that reminded him of Varadha. 

To this date, the picture was taped to the wall in his room, above his desk. Sometimes he’d catch himself looking at it as he finished his homework, wondering what exactly Deva noticed about it that reminded him of Varadha. In the end, all he could make out was a stunning sculpture with a sweet smile. 

Still, the small picture and the never ending trinkets lined up beneath it, always brought with them a deep sense of euphoria because it seemed that Deva too would think of him when he was away. It wasn’t just Varadha waiting for his return. 

It won’t be till years later, during Deva’s absence, that Varadha will come to understand his feelings. It won’t be till then that he realizes that he didn’t just love his dear friend, but that he was in love with him.

But for this night, he tried to set aside his anxiety surrounding Deva’s departure and let a glowing smile light his lips as they sat across from each other in the small compartment of the wheel, their knees brushing against each other. As they passed from point to point, they’d gaze out of their cart, letting the sweet candy melt against their tongues as they took in the bright lights of the city. 

“Thank you for this,” Deva murmurs once they get high enough that the sounds of the festival begin to dim. “I had a lot of fun.” Varadha shakes his head at him, getting up from his seat and plastering himself next to Deva instead.

“I feel like I remember telling you before that there’s no need for please and thank you between friends?”

“Yeah, yeah. But still. It’s been a lot of fun and I know it’s dumb to say since it’ll only be a week, but I’ll miss you when I’m gone.” 

Varadha doesn’t know how to answer, so he throws an arm against Deva’s shoulder and pulls him in closer. 

“I guess we’re both dumb then because I’ll miss you too.” At that, one of Deva’s arms comes up behind him, wrapping across his torso. They rest their heads against each other, young minds not being able to put a name to the feeling expanding between them, but content to be in each other’s company without seeking an answer. 

A clanging sound interrupts them and they pull apart in time to see the distant clock tower striking midnight, their cart coming to a stop at the top-most point. 

“Shit, Amma’s gonna kill me.” Deva shoots up in his seat, panic shutting off his ability to think. He can’t believe he didn’t notice just how much time had passed. 

“Rey!” Varadha grabs his arm and pulls him down when the cart begins to swing from the momentum. “Sit down will you! What are you going to do? Jump off?”

“I don’t know! Maybe.” Deva groans, burrying his face in his hands. “I already got in trouble last week for going home late after we went to the movies. She’s going to murder me, ra.” 

“Don’t worry,” Varadha peels his hands off his face. “I already talked to her and got permission to keep you out late today. She won’t kill you, not for this.” The tension melts off of Deva’s face, only for confusion to take over in its stead. 

“This late? Why?” 

“Na potti bangaram kosam (For my short gold). Happy birthday, ra.” Varadha playfully pinches Deva’s cheek and laughs when he shoves him away, face souring. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a short necklace, handing it over to Deva who observes the square pendant hanging from a black thread. “My mom helped me find it, she said it’s a charm for good luck. I just thought it looked cool.” Varadha shrugs, trying not to make it seem like too big of a deal.

Deva just swallows, looking intently at the silver pendant resting in his palm. It makes Varadha nervous enough that he grabs it out of his hand and pulls it over Deva’s head. 

“See! It looks great on you!” Varadha beams at the choker lying at the dip of Deva’s neck. “Mannarsi craftsmanship is unbeatable you know?” 

“I beg to differ,” Deva says immediately, but then his voice softens noticeably. “But yeah, this gift is hard to beat.” 

~*~

When they walk home that night, it’s in anything but silence. Varadha shares the story of how he happened upon the necklace and thought it’d be perfect for Deva considering how he keeps ending up in dangerous situations. Deva defends himself saying that he only gets roped into those things because of Varadha, to which he can’t argue. The words keep drifting from their lips even as they approach the intersection where they need to separate to get home. Yet, they stand at the street corner, bringing up the most redundant of tales in an effort to make the night last longer. 

Finally, they pull themselves into a bone-crushing hug, clinging to each other as the cool breeze brushes against them.

Unable to part just yet, they stay there for a while longer, letting time pass them by under the midnight sky.

~*~

Author's Note:

So sorry for the late post! Really tried to get it out by Valentine's Day but I was traveling and kept falling asleep as I wrote. But I've been having so much fun getting to see everyone else's work! Love the talent in this fandom!

A huge thank you to @rambheem-is-real and @deadloverscity for hosting this event!

[alezangona]

The Shadow of Khansar (Salaar Fic)

Part 9 - The Monster and His Master

Part 8 | Part 10

Notes: Definitely NSFW

The next few months pass by in a blur, albeit a productive one. Khansar’s funds are carefully allocated across various administrations with special emphasis placed on programs pertaining to education, public health, and infrastructure. The government’s focus on foreign policy allows them to settle contracts with various energy management companies across the world to provide solutions for the electrical and water shortages occurring in their external agricultural territories. The continuous expansion of global strategies provides opportunities for reallocation of employment through various industries including manufacturing and trade, though Khansar stays vigilant in maintaining a diplomatic image by hiding its more profitable ventures away from prying eyes. 

Change doesn’t come as fast as Varadha initially hopes, the truth being that mistakes occur more frequently than not and it is enough to give him pounding headaches that won’t subside. Moments of high stress are all it takes for him to retreat into himself, gaze faraway as he analyzes every possible solution over and over, a heaviness settling into the line of his shoulders.

During breakfast one morning, when Varadha is toying more with his food than eating it, Baba finally cracks. 

“The responsibility of this kingdom is not yours alone, Beta. There are entire organizations and administrations working alongside you to find solutions to the issues we are facing. Let them do their jobs, while you do yours. Not every burden is yours to bear.” Then he lets out a small smile. “Anyway, it’s important for you to learn the importance of a good stroll over a hasty run. What you’re doing now is establishing a strong foundation for Khansar’s growth and longevity. Take that for granted and you’ll give way for its fall.”

Varadha doesn’t finish his breakfast that morning and he doesn’t miraculously stop worrying either. Still, he begins to notice just how much people care. It isn’t just his face worn from sleepless nights and early mornings. It isn’t just his eyes that contain a spark of determination in the face of challenges. 

The reassurance is enough to let him sleep a bit more peacefully at night. It also helps that he feels less alone than he has in years. Particularly in moments of leisure that are spent in the presence of his loved ones. 

Morning garden strolls with Baba as he talks about his life and his Noor. 

When she’d leave for her business meetings, I wouldn’t know how to handle myself. So anxious and restless till she came home. Time used to stand still without her, but in her presence, every day would pass by faster than a strike of lightning, and just as beautiful too. I’ve had years with her… it still doesn’t feel like it was enough time. She’d be proud of you, if she was here to see you now.

Afternoon chaturanga sessions with Baachi as he curses out Varadha for winning every round. 

I still look over my shoulders sometimes, waiting for someone to fuck with us. We’ve endured years of humiliation and it feels like there’s more to withstand. I’m still not used to the way people look at us with respect when we leave the palace. I’m thankful for what we have Anna, and I’m scared to lose it too— Fuck! Again? What’s the point in playing with me when you keep winning anyway? 

Evening movie nights with Deva as they curl up on the couch, shedding their responsibilities and falling into domesticity. 

I don’t know how I did it, but I’ve managed to convince Amma to come back to Khansar. I think the only reason she’s even budging is because I’ve been begging her to come back with me and telling her it’ll be different under your rule. Even then, she’s hesitant about staying anywhere in the capital. I don’t know if I can convince her to stay in the palace, not without putting her ill at ease. After everything she’s done for me, I have to draw the line on her behalf at some point. I’m thinking of getting her a place at the outskirts of town. I’m going to hate not seeing you every night, though.

That doesn’t end up becoming a problem for too long. The first night that Deva stays away at his mother’s new house, Varadha tosses and turns for hours on end, restful sleep alluding him. His cranky mood the next morning has the entire palace walking on eggshells. That is, until Deva enters the council room later on in the day for one of their meetings. They stay on different ends of the room, but when their gazes meet, the exhaustion drains visibly from their bodies and the palace is able to breathe once more. 

“Come home with me tonight?” Deva asks once they leave the room, walking shoulder to shoulder. Varadha’s step falters for a second before he goes back to matching Deva’s stride. 

“What?” Varadha carefully observes their surroundings, staying alert until he’s sure there’s no one else around them. 

“For dinner, you idiot.” Deva’s lips quirk. “Not some clandestine meeting of lovers.”

“Can’t fault me for checking, Bangaram. I never can tell what’s going on in that filthy mind of yours.” Varadha shrugs, biting the inside of his cheek to hide his smile.

“Yes, because I’m dying for a chance to ravish you in my mother’s home.” Deva rolls his eyes, but takes a step closer to him anyway, bending down so his gravelly voice can whisper. “Though… why bother with the wait when I can fuck you in that closet instead?” 

~*~

The first dinner at Amma’s ends up being more awkward than Varadha thought possible. As inviting as she is, there’s a prying gleam in her eyes as she observes the two of them, trying to gauge what could’ve happened during the past few months for her son to willingly return to this godforsaken place. To move her here as well. He finds himself trying to impress her for some reason, telling her about all the changes he and his team are trying to bring about to the city. If he was being honest with himself, for a moment it felt like the words were being forcefully ejected from his mouth, anxiety refusing to let go of the trigger. However, when there is a lapse in conversation after dinner while they put away leftovers, Varadha catches a glimpse of Amma looking at him with a relieved expression. He doesn’t know what it means, but is able to breathe easier when she sends him off with a box of leftover chepala pulusu (fish curry) and tells him to come visit again soon.

The weekly dinners end up becoming a reprieve for Varadha when he starts to realize just how much he feels like a kid again under Amma’s roof. Gone are his responsibilities of being Karta when he steps into the threshold. She acts with him as she always had, feeding him exorbitant amounts of food, reprimanding him for not sleeping enough, and even going to the extent of massaging his scalp when he confesses to her of the pounding headache he’s suffered with for days. 

His eyes close at the feeling of her fingers running through his scalp, the smell of medicinal oil oddly pleasant and soothing as she works the tension out from his muscles. Amma continues to talk to him, voice low and pleasant as she urges him to take better care of himself and something breaks inside him. A ball lodges in his throat and he can feel wetness forming behind closed lids. When they flicker open, Deva is standing in front of him, a glass of water in hand. Concern immediately clouds his features and he shifts his body forward, only to stop when Varadha discreetly shakes his head, a wobbly smile forming on his lips. 

“Stay here with us tonight,” Amma commands, unaware of the plight he’s facing. “The second you go back to that palace you’ll spend the night overworking yourself and I refuse to let you run yourself into the ground. Deva, go set up the guest room and don’t let him leave till tomorrow morning.”

Later that night, once Amma is asleep, Deva sneaks into Varadha’s room, crawling into bed and holding him tight. 

“Are you okay?” Deva sighs against his ears when Varadha doesn’t answer immediately. “Amma ki chadastham ekuvara, anthe (Amma is just stubborn, that’s all). I’m sorry if what she said hurt you at all.” 

“No, she didn’t do anything wrong.” Varadha gulps, pressing back into Deva. “Amma gurthukuochindi, ra (I remembered my mom).” 

Deva doesn’t reply, choosing to press a kiss into Varadha’s hair, wrapping his entire body around his lost king and trapping him within the confines of his limbs. Varadha sleeps more peacefully that night than he ever has during the past few months.

The next morning as Amma sends them out of the house, she stops Varadha in his place, a hand wrapped around his arm. 

“I’ve been keeping an eye on you two since you were children. Karta and Salaar aside, when it comes down to it, you’re just two kids who’ve been forced to grow up too soon. Don’t let those titles define you for the rest of your life, nana. Don’t make the same mistakes as…” The way her gaze digs into his is enough to make him understand, so he nods back, a promise in his own right. 

She lets him go.

~*~

The peace doesn’t last long, it hardly ever does in a world like theirs. 

They start hearing of various raids across India that begin to interfere with their black market trade. Before they can consider taking action, casinos, brokerages, and banks partnered with Khansar are stormed in an effort to prevent money laundering and other illegal activities. Trucks containing various goods such as weapons and drugs are stopped en route, all the material seized and confiscated by the government. A frenzy erupts in the capital as calls are made to various seeds and contacts planted in India, demanding answers for the sudden crack down. The answer, it turns out, is rather simple.

The government of India aims to fight back against crime… to fight back against Khansar. 

It’s not an answer that sits well with anyone. Definitely not Varadha as everyone in his court looks to him for answers. Tensions rise every day in Kotagada as the Doralu debate with their Karta about the best course of action to take to preserve their economy. In the end, there is nothing but disdain as the court adjourns, no real solution to be found. 

For the time being, the best course of action is to be more discreet and careful than usual. They run checks on their supply chain to prevent security breaches. Only certain businesses are given access to trade after a thorough inspection process. Different routes are established, intricate and ever changing, with smaller shipments being sent out at a time. Overall, it’s not a perfect system, but it’s enough to get them by.

~*~

Deva’s eyes stay firmly planted on the ground and he hopes that Baba will finally break the silence. He doesn’t. He holds his cap in his hands, leaning back against the chair as if his age has finally caught up to him. Bilal doesn’t seem to be of much help either as he paces back and forth, carefully avoiding Rhinda who scowls at the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. 

The creak of a door opening snaps them to attention. Varadha steps out, face void of any emotion as he jutts his chin. 

“You can go see him now, if you’d like.” Baba doesn’t wait for him to finish the sentence before he disappears through the door. 

“I didn’t even know he could move that fast.” Rhinda tries to joke, but no one laughs. He doesn’t look too amused either as he falls back into his chair. 

Varadha makes his way to the large window, fists clenched at his sides. Within seconds, Deva is next to him.

“The name of Khansar was enough to stop them not too long ago. Now they’ve attacked us at the heart of it.” Varadha’s hand clasps ironclad around Deva’s tattoo. “I want them dead. Each and every person who dared to lay a hand on him.”

“As you command, Karta.” 

“The thought of Khansar alone should terrify them. Touch what belongs to us–”

“You pave the path to your own destruction.”

The Karta’s fist drops back down to his side and his weapon is released. 

~*~

Death for anyone who stops the seal. 

That is what Deva declares. No one in court bothers to argue. Not when it was a law that would benefit their own economy. Even if they did object, they wouldn’t challenge the monster who just committed a massacre to please his master. 

Rakshasudu.

That is what they begin to call him. Not to his face or the Karta’s. Not in scorn either, but in awe of the sheer power that he exudes. The new name becomes a declaration of acceptance. 

A violent man for a violent city. 

~*~

“A symbol. All that it brands, belongs to you.” 

The simple phrase from Deva’s lips ignites a raging fire within him. Varadha’s eyes darken in the confines of the room, gaze honing in on the devil’s mark stamped against Deva’s bare chest. 

“Come here.” Varadha commands. He watches as Deva saunters towards him, the glow from the lantern casting shadows onto his rugged physique. His fingers ghost against the seal, drinking in the intricate artwork that decorates tanned skin. The eyes of the devil leer into him, ferocious teeth barred in contempt. It was nothing more than a small circle of ink, able to fade away with the swipe of a finger. Yet, it possessed the ability to shake an entire nation to its core. 

So much power in such a small symbol. 

And the man who imbued it with that power stands before him, beautiful and pliant, his face sculpted to express unbounded devotion. 

Varadha’s hand darts out, fingers wrapping around the underside of Deva’s jaw as he tugs him closer. Deva breathes sharply, surprised by the action, but doesn’t move. He waits patiently, unblinking as Varadha leisurely devours the length of him. In a sudden flash, Varadha turns him around so that Deva’s back is pinned to his front. Deva catches a glimpse of the image in the mirror planted across from him, a pathetic whimper leaving him at the sight.

Varadha’s eyes penetrate through the reflective surface, dark, calculating, and aroused. His fingers dig into Deva’s pulse point as his other hand travels down the expanse of his torso, nails scraping against sensitive skin, eliciting a feeling so strong that Deva’s eyes flutter shut and he arches back into Varadha, desperate for a taste. The furthest he can get is the brush of his lips against the side of Varadha’s jaw before he draws back with a tut.

“Salaar,” The warmth of his breath fans against Deva’s ears, the smoky tone exhilarating him further. “My Salaar. So beautiful when you give yourself to me like this.” His hand slips further down, stopping at the bulge between Deva’s thighs. His fingers dance against the sensitive flesh, featherlight touches that have Deva working to hold back keens of frustration. That is, until Varadha palms him through the fabric of his jeans, the firm touch causing Deva to release a low moan. 

“Va–” The name catches in his throat when Varadha’s grip tightens around his neck significantly. Varadha’s lips begin to explore the curve of Deva’s nape, sharp bites that prick into his skin, only to be soothed by the gentle slip of his tongue. Varadha hums softly into him, slotting his hips against the curve of Deva’s ass and pressing into him just enough to let his arousal be felt. Slowly, the hand that is wrapped around Deva’s throat begins to descend. Within no time, Varadha works Deva out of his jeans, hands circling against the heavy length of him.

“Open your eyes and watch what I do to you.” He growls, teeth catching onto Deva’s ear. Deva’s eyes flicker open at the order and he digs his teeth into his lips at the debauched image of him in Varadha’s arms. Hair askew, pupils blown, skin marked by claiming bruises. He lowers his gaze to where Varadha’s hands are pumping him unceremoniously, his thumb circling against his slit, collecting precum and spreading it across the throbbing surface. It doesn’t take long for Varadha’s hands to become coated with the evidence of Deva’s arousal and the sight itself makes Deva tremble with need. “You look beautiful like this. Pliant in my hands, flushed beyond belief, desperate for release.” 

Deva hisses as Varadha tugs against his balls, the mixture of pain and pleasure overwhelming him enough to close his eyes for a chance of reprieve. 

“Open your eyes, Salaar. I won’t tell you again. Take your eyes off the image of what I’m doing to you and I won’t let you come for me tonight.” The warning incites panic and Deva’s lids snap open, catching the merciless grin on Varadha’s face. “Good boy.” 

The motions of his hands speed up around Deva’s cock with varying pressure and Deva is forced to watch himself break, tremors spreading across his overstimulated body. His chest heaves with panting breaths, muscles clenching in an effort to hold back his inevitable release. As he watches from tear-filled eyes, Varadha’s reflection reshapes itself in the mirror, a smug curl of his lips as it dawns on him what Deva is doing. 

“Such a good boy, holding yourself back for my sake. I didn’t even have to ask, did I? You’re just that desperate to please me.” The throaty chuckle causes Deva to flush deeper and dig his fingers into the soft material of Varadha’s clothes. 

“Please.” Deva groans, on edge. A tear rolls down the corner of his eye and satisfaction paints itself across Varadha’s features.

“Come for me, my beautiful Salaar.” A gasp leaves Deva’s lips, his cock twitching as the sticky residue splatters against the skin of his stomach. His eyes close and he leans back against Varadha, spent as his orgasm flows through his system. He can feel Varadha’s arms wrapping around his waist, lips brushing against his ears as he whispers sweet nothings while pleasure settles into his bones. 

By the time Deva is able to ground himself enough to open his eyes, he catches sight of Varadha’s gaze drilling into the seal stamped against his chest. A shudder of pleasure rocks through him when Varadha pushes him onto the bed, his hand curling around the dark mark, a wildness in the depth of his kohl rimmed eyes that has Deva hardening once more. 

“Mine.” Varadha places a searing kiss against his lips, stealing his soul from within the confines of its cage. Deva gives back just as much as he gets, wanting nothing more than to have Varadha understand that his entire life belongs to him and only him. By the time Varadha pulls away, stripping out of his shirt, Deva’s kiss-slick lips whisper back words of reassurance.

“Yours, always yours.”

[alezangona]

Second Chances (Salaar AU)

Part 1: A Surprise Encounter

Summary: Amidst a crazy wedding season, the Mannar siblings face chance encounters that change the trajectory of their lives.

“Mam,” Bilal’s exasperated tone snaps Radha Rama out of her thoughts and she places the folder she’s holding on the desk, devoting her attention to him. 

“What’s the matter, Bilal? Did the Arodha’s want to make another change to their destination wedding because I swear to god, I’ve told them in a million different ways that I cannot get those parrots flown into the island this late in the game without proper permits.”

“No, they’re actually being reasonable this time– if you can believe it.” He lets out a huff of air as he plops down in the chair across from her. “They’ve just decided that veganism is the new trend they want to hop on. Which means they want to drag their family and friends in on it too.”

“No! No, no, no.” Radha Rama squeezes the bridge of her nose, bangles clanging as they move down her arm. “Don’t tell me… the wedding is in three days Bilal!”

“I don’t think they seem to realize that, but anyway, they want new caterers. Baachi was able to reach out to some of his contacts and draw up a contract with one of the best vegan restaurants on the island.” She lets out a small sigh and sinks back into her seat.

“If that situation is handled, then what’s the issue?”

“I was supposed to meet with the Krishnakanths today to discuss their daughter’s wedding, but I just got a call that my son is sick. I need to pick him up from school and take him to the doctor.”

“Oh.” Radha Rama turns to her computer, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she observes the screen. “That’s okay Bilal, you handle that. I’ll just send… ah, yes! Varadha is free around then. He can handle it.” 

“Thank you, mam! I’m so sorry, I know how important their contract is, especially with how much power Krishnakanth holds. I wouldn’t have asked if it wasn’t–”

“Bilal,” Radha Rama looks up at him, dark eyes filled with understanding. “I know. I know you wouldn’t have asked if it wasn’t urgent. Don’t apologize, not to me, okay? Just make sure your son is okay and we’ll handle your projects till then.” 

“You’re the best, boss.” Bilal stands, a relieved smile tugging at his lips.

“Don’t I know it.” She winks, face alight with mischief as she sends him out on his way.

~*~

Varadha’s teeth grit together when he checks his watch, a curse leaving his lips. If there was anything he was proud of, it was his ability to be punctual regardless of any hurdles in his way. He didn't know what his sister was thinking, giving him a new assignment an hour before the meeting time, when she knew he had to make his way through Khansar traffic. 

Varadha was nothing if not determined though. So his eyes scan the route on the GPS, mind rapidly putting together the different pieces of the puzzle till a picture flashes in his mind– the exit he could take, followed by the route that could get him to the meeting location as soon as possible. Ten minutes later, he’s sitting at the cafe, his laptop and documents arranged neatly on the table in front of him. 

Two minutes later, his foot taps a staccato against the brick patio, still waiting for the family to arrive. After five more minutes of sitting around hoping to catch sight of these rich bastards who don’t seem to give a fuck about other people’s time, Varadha decides it’s best to kill time by being as productive as he possibly can. He pulls out the file Radha Rama handed to him as he was running out the door and flips it open to the page that describes the bride.

Aadhya Krishnakanth. Born and brought up in the States. A doctor initially based out of New York before deciding to move to India. Opened a free clinic for patients in marginalized regions of the country. Lives in Hyderabad with her mother–

“Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry!” There’s a sudden pink blur that races through the cafe before crashing down in the seat across from him. “I’m so sorry! I always try so hard not to be late, but you have to understand it’s so difficult with my schedule. There was a surgery today that ended up getting more complicated than we expected and oh god! I’m so sorry!”

“Hey, no it’s okay!” The sudden noise after an excruciating phase of silence is enough to give him whiplash, but seeing how frazzled the poor girl is softens him up like butter. “We’ve all been there. I was late too, to be honest. Stuck in traffic actually but that’s nothing compared to saving lives now that I think about it.” She smiles at him, relieved and thankful, sinking into her seat. 

“Aadhya,” she holds out a hand, grinning brightly in the way Americans tend to do. “So nice to meet you…?”

“Varadha. Is anyone else going to be joining us today?”

“Yeah! My parents weren’t able to make it, but my fiancé and f–”

“Ey, Tingari (crazy girl). Wait for me next time, will you?” A towering figure appears behind Aadhya, his arms wrapping around to pull her into a hug that is powerful enough to lift her off her chair for half a second. 

“Rey! Let me down!” She swats at him playfully, bringing out a deep and melodic laugh from the man. He does as she requests and takes a seat next to her, an arm draped casually over the back of her chair.

“Hi sir! I’m De-” The sound dies on his lips when he makes out who exactly it is sitting in front of him. “Varadha?”

“Deva?”

“You two know each other?” Aadhya looks between the two of them, confused as to why they look like they’ve seen a ghost. They don’t say anything for a second, too stunned to speak. She might’ve left it well alone if it wasn’t for the fact that she was a nosey little fucker who wanted all the details. So she digs her fingers into the side of Deva’s waist, smirking when he jumps and his attention diverts to her.

“Yeah, we were roommates in college.” Deva mumbles, rubbing his hand over his side and glaring at Aadhya. Something about that answer doesn’t seem to be what Varadha expects because his face darkens for a moment, lips pursing when he takes a second to recompose himself.

“Yeah, roommates. Anyway, today’s meeting isn’t about that. Your father wanted to hire us because of our commitment to excellence in every event that we plan. However, as a company, we prioritize creating unique experiences that are a reflection of our clients and their journey. So I usually like to start by getting an idea of what you’re looking for going forward. It seems that according to the file, you’re hoping for a big wedding?” Deva immediately scoffs at that.

“Deva–” Aadhya starts, a slight blush coating her cheeks.

“What? It’s true.” Deva looks at Varadha then. “She’d prefer a smaller wedding. As small as we can get considering her dad is stuffing the list to the brim with his entire network.”

Varadha can’t find it in him to say anything, so he looks down at the file, making note of the fact. He doesn’t realize how hard he’s digging the pen into the paper though, till the free flowing movement stops and he realizes the pen is stuck in a tiny hole. Swallowing, he pulls it out and looks back up at the couple.

“Well considering we got most of our information from your father, I’m assuming more things in this file are wrong than right?” Varadha hands over the file to the other side of the table. Deva reaches over to grab it, placing it between him and Aadhya as they lean over to read it together. Varadha’s attention catches on how their expressions almost move in synch, going from light frowns to wide-eyed looks of incredulity. “So?”

“Well, they’re not entirely wrong…” Aadhya shrugs at the piece of paper, her hunched posture a direct contradiction to her tone. 

“Pichi Pilla (crazy girl),” Deva crosses his arms over his chest and looks directly at Varadha, who can feel the world closing in on him, slowly but surely. “Look, half of this is bull. She wants a smaller wedding, something in India and not a destination abroad. She hates beaches, would probably rather burn herself alive than be caught dead dragging a trail of sand behind her. She loves food, so none of those small plates of Hors D’oeuvres that leave you feeling more hungry after taking a nibble than you were before that. Probably a big giant buffet where people can go back for fourths, that’d be ideal right?”

At that, Aadhya places her hand gently on his arm in an effort to stop him perhaps. Still, she gazes up at Deva with so much warmth, her eyes glassing over just slightly enough to let Varadha know that what Deva said mattered to her. Why he said it, mattered to her. He has to look away from the image in front of him, simply because he knows what it’s like. 

Varadha knows what it’s like to be in Aadhya’s place because that’s where he was for the longest time. If anyone knows what it’s like to be on the receiving end of Deva’s love and affection, it’s him. It’s no surprise that the memories of that man are etched into every fiber of his being, even after all these years.

The coal-dark eyes that would come to life when Varadha would enter a room. The warm body that would press into his from behind during movie nights on that dingy-ass college couch. The smell of burning food left abandoned on the stove as wine coated lips explored each other against thin walls.

The man who dropped to his knees, begging Varadha to forgive him when–

“I’ll give you two a moment.” Varadha says, pushing out of his chair and walking himself out the door to the cafe. The second he gets to the parking lot, he pulls out the remaining half of a cigarette he bummed from a friend the night before at a party. Smoking wasn’t something he necessarily enjoyed doing. It was an occasional habit he’d picked up after college. 

Whenever Deva would feel anxious about something, he’d make his way onto their roof, taking a drag beneath the night sky. Every once in a while, Varadha would join him. More often when he knew times were tough. They’d lie there together in silence for a moment before Deva would point to different constellations and tell him the myths he heard as a child. Deva wasn’t much of a talker with other people, but when he loved people enough to let them into his small circle, conversation was something that dripped from his lips like sweet honey. Once he’d calm down, he’d turn towards Varadha, a look of pure gratitude in his eyes as his chapped lips would brush against his own. The taste of nicotine in those moments used to be so irresistible, because it became the taste of Deva.

That was all it was, to be honest. It wasn’t often that Varadha found himself in distress, but in those rare moments of weakness, the warmth of the cigarette against his lips would remind him of Deva. For some time, it would be as if they were still together, the mistakes of the past erased. 

Yet, when the cigarette touches his lips today, it leaves behind a bitter taste. He scoffs as he lets out a puff, scraping his shoes against the ground. Why wouldn’t it? The man he’s in love with, even after all these years, is about to get married to a beautiful, kind, caring woman. His stomach churns uneasily and he gives up, too tired to try and process the day beyond the fact that the man he loves isn’t his anymore. Hasn’t been for a while now.

“Let me have a drag?” Varadha freezes, finger that was about to drop the cigarette tightening around it and passing it along to Deva’s waiting hand without further thought. “Thanks, ra.”

“Should you be smoking at this age? It kills you know?” Deva leans against the car, lips quirking up and he doesn’t bother to hide his amusement at Varadha’s hypocrisy. “I smoke occasionally, I don’t count. You probably do it on a daily basis.” 

“Careful, Varadha. You don’t want me thinking you actually care do you?”

“Of course I care!” Varadha pauses, looking to his feet. “You’ve got a nice girl in there. Least you can do is make it to your wedding alive.” Deva’s eyes dig into Varadha’s profile and he can feel his skin rising uncomfortably. “What’s with all the staring?”

“I haven’t seen you in years, B- Varadha. I’m soaking up as much as I can before you go.” He flicks the cigarette to the ground, stomping it out before speaking again. “As for the girl, we’re not together. She’s just a friend.”

Varadha should be embarrassed by the immediate relief he feels at the statement. The churning pit in his stomach disappears in seconds as he takes a moment to really observe the man standing across from him. If it was possible, he was more handsome now than all those years ago. His lanky frame that used to be hidden behind drowning fabrics has now filled out deliciously, the protruding muscles emphasized by the various textured clothing that wrap snugly around him. His wild mane that would stick out in every direction, frizzing out during the humid months, is now styled to perfection with every curl staying in place. His once clean shaven face is now painted with a dark beard that makes him look less like the boy next door and more like a rugged stranger that Varadha wouldn’t mind running into during a night out. The tattoo wrapping around Deva’s arm further emphasizes that particular fantasy of his. 

Was it pathetic how in love with him he still was? If Radha Rama was here with him, she wouldn’t hesitate to say yes. 

“What about her fiancé?” 

“He’s running late. His flight’s coming in from L.A. today. I just wanted to hop along because I knew if she was alone she’d say yes to all the shit her dad had laid out for her.” Deva lights another cigarette he pulls out of his pocket, inhaling deeply, letting the smoke settle in his lungs before he lets out a puff of air that fades into the afternoon breeze.

“Is that why you’re so stressed?” Varadha leans against the car as well, a couple of inches away from Deva. The hairs on his body stay on edge, aware of the electrical pulse that beats between them. He tries not to let that distract him. 

“Please, I can handle Krishnakanth.” Deva passes the cigarette back to Varadha, who forces himself not to think about the fact that Deva’s lips were wrapped against the paper just seconds ago. He fails miserably. “He doesn’t mean any harm really. He’s a good man who just wants to see his daughter taken care of and she hasn’t met anyone she’s fallen for yet. So, why not say yes to marriage to make her family happy?” 

“What about her? Will she be happy?” The look Deva gives him is enough for Varadha to understand and he keeps quiet, not knowing what else to say. 

“Meeting you today was a surprise.” Deva offers and Varadha takes greedily. 

“For me as well.” He admits, fingers coming up to play with his watch. 

“You look good Varadha. You look happy.” 

“Well… that’s open to interpretation.”

“You’re not happy?” Deva crushes the cigarette against the ground, rigidity taking over his body once more. 

“I’m doing well, Deva. That should be enough right?” 

“Not for me. It shouldn’t be for you either. What’s wrong Varadha? What’s missing?” Deva steps closer to him, the scent of his cologne surrounding Varadha in an intoxicating cloud. Maybe that’s what allows for him to let his guard down.

“You,” the word passes uninterrupted from his lips. “You’re missing from my life and I’ve wanted you back every day since–”

Deva takes a step back, snapping Varadha out of his daze. The broken expression on his face makes Varadha feel like an absolute asshole.

“Shit, Deva. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have–”

“I left that day because you asked me to. Not because I wanted to.” Varadha sucks in a sharp breath at the admission, mouth falling shut. 

“I know. I shouldn’t have said anything, especially after all this time. Just because I haven’t moved on doesn’t mean the same applies to you.” Varadha looks away, running a hand through his hair. “You don’t owe me anything, Deva. Not after everything, but I need you to know that I regret what I did back then. Not a day goes by where I don’t wish that it played out differently because then maybe…” He swallows, stopping the words in his throat. The images play in his mind though, of an intimate wedding, a beautiful house on the edge of the river, a small child’s laugh echoing through the property. 

“Yeah, well… I wish it played out differently too.” Deva takes in a deep breath, his gaze resting on the horizon. “I haven’t gotten over you either.”

“Oh?”

“So, where does that leave us? Are we just going to get that off our chests and never see each other again? Because I’m getting old, Varadha. I don’t think I have energy to wait anymore.” Deva hangs his head, hands tucked into his pockets.

Varadha can’t help but to think of how his life passed by in a blink of an eye over the past two decades. A lifetime of memories that felt as if they hadn't been experienced, not in the way they were meant to. All the moments of joy and pride, sadness and pain, nothing more than fleeting emotions that refused to ground themselves into the core of his very being. When he’d lie in bed at night, desperately trying to find a reason for this ache, Deva’s name would echo through his mind and he’d wonder how he could’ve ever been blind to it before. 

Why did he ever let that man go?

“I won’t make you wait, not this time.” Varadha’s hand intertwines with Deva’s, touch as gentle as a feather brushing against glass. “Let’s start over?”

~*~

6 Months Later

Varadha makes deliberate cuts into the meat in front of him, trying hard to clear out any remaining bones so the previous week’s episode doesn’t unfold a second time. Sure he and his sister had their fair share of fights, but nothing drastic enough where we wanted to murder her through way of choking on a bone. 

“Bujji?” The call comes simultaneously with the thud of the front door closing. 

“In the kitchen.” Varadha replies, refusing to break his concentration. 

“Here’s the sauce you asked for. They didn’t have the brand you usually get, but this seemed like it’d be good too.” Deva sets the glass container next to Varadha, leaning in to place a quick peck against his cheek. Varadha hears a sound of disgust from behind him and he has to stop himself from rolling his eyes.

“You make a fuss now, but the second I put down the food, you’re the first to gobble it up.” 

“You see how gross uncooked meat is right? Your chopping skills don't help the image either.” 

“Rey–”Varadha turns, holding the knife threateningly towards Deva.

“Calm down, Kick Buttowski. Get back to work and look out for any bones. I’m not about to lose my favorite Mannar sibling to something smaller than a lima bean again.”

“Don’t let Baachi hear you say that. It’ll break his heart.”

“I’m sure it will. After all, we’re attached at the hip, the two of us.” Deva chuckles as he opens up a bottle of wine for them. “I don’t think there’s anything I can do to impress that kid. He’ll just hate me for the rest of his life.”

“He doesn’t hate you!” Varadha defends instantly, putting down his knife now that he was finished with his thorough inspection. 

“The bruise from when he chucked a volleyball at my head last week begs to differ.” Varadha washes his hands meticulously before heading over to Deva and pulling him down to place a lingering kiss on his left temple, where the remnants of a pretty terrible bruise were finally starting to fade. 

“You have a point, but he does it out of love. I swear.” Deva shakes his head at the comment before handing Varadha a glass of wine.

“No, me putting up with his murderous tendencies is what’s done out of love.” Deva whips out his phone and taps against the screen. A soft Hindi melody plays from the speakers and Varadha smiles at his boyfriend at the gesture. “But I can put up with that till death as long as you keep kissing all the wounds better.”

“God, you’re such a sap.” Varadha complains, but there’s no malice behind it. Just the light hearted tone that comes from being in love with an unbelievably sweet idiot. So he grabs at Deva’s shirt and tugs him in closer for a deep kiss. A small moan escapes his throat when he tastes his favorite wine lingering on Deva’s lips. The various notes of fruit, spices, and coco dust intermingle seamlessly into the unique flavor that belongs to Deva, and Varadha can’t possibly get enough. His fingers tangle into the taller man’s hair, pushing off the ground to wrap his legs around Deva’s waist. A grunt of surprise leaves Deva’s lips, but he’s quick to catch on to Varadha and move towards the counter. Placing Varadha down gives him more leeway than before, so he digs his ankles into the small of Deva’s back, pulling him closer to gain more access to his mouth. 

“Rey,” Deva groans as he forces himself to pull away. “God stop teasing me. We have guests coming over soon.”

“They can wait.” Varadha’s teeth catch against the bottom of his earlobe, nipping playfully. “They’ll understand that a chef deserves his kiss.” 

“I don’t know that chef is the right word when all that’s sitting out right now is a lump of meat.”

“Whyyyyy!” Varadha whines as he pulls away from his hot boyfriend. “Why do you do this to me? What’s the point of having a sexy boyfriend if I can’t make out with him whenever I want.” 

“You can still ogle me.” Deva winks at him. “Now, stop pouting and get to cooking. We have the rest of the night once they leave.”

“It would take a S.W.A.T. team to evacuate them out of this apartment post dinner. The second Aadhya whips out the cards, everyone’s going to settle in for a round of poker and before we know it, she’ll have us drowning in debt.”

“Drowning you in debt. The rest of us actually win every once in a while.” Deva comments, making his way into Varadha’s room to change. 

Varadha spends the next hour quickly shuffling through the kitchen and preparing the feast, while Deva tidies up around the apartment and sets up the dining table. They idly exchange stories from their day, where Deva speaks of his cute Kindergarteners who gifted him a paper crown that was more glue than paper at this point, while Varadha complains about how billionaires shouldn’t be allowed to get married because it is quite frankly impossible (potentially unethical) to bring in a whole herd of elephants just so the celebrity guests could make a grad entrance to the reception. Which would pale in comparison when the newlyweds would enter on the backs of lions. That idea was vetoed pretty quickly by him and his sister, thank god. 

“Ey, Macha!” Aadhya bustles in just as they finish getting ready, a tray of brownies in hand. “This is about to be the best dessert of your lives! Crumb coffee cake brownies, made by yours truly.” 

“There were supposed to be two trays, but I downed one on the way here!” Radha Rama shouts from near the entryway. A wide smile settles on Aadhya’s face.

“Seal of approval from the best Mannar sibling!” Aadhya declares happily as she grabs herself a hard cider from their fridge. 

“Why does everyone keep saying that?” Varadha frowns in his sister’s direction. “What’s so special about you besides an undiagnosed sugar addiction?” 

“I’m the one who’s kept this circus afloat for years, kid. Show some respect!” Radha Rama smirks as she pushes past her brother, making her way over to Aadhya and wrapping an arm around her waist. 

“Don’t take it too seriously, Bujji.” Deva laughs leaning against the counter. “Our Tingari Pilla is just too in love with her girlfriend to see things objectively.” 

“It’s not just her.” Baachi comes stomping into the apartment, carrying a heaving box of decorations that he plops unceremoniously to the ground. “Considering they’ve been using me as a pack mule for this wedding, the least you can do is declare me the best Mannar sibling instead of tucking tail and following my brother around like a lost puppy.”

In the blink of an eye, the siblings start bickering, bringing up every moment from the past in an effort to one up each other. Deva and Aadhya choose to sit back silently, watching the event play out in front of them. 

“We’ll get to dinner soon, right?” Aadhya asks, anxiously gazing at the clock.

“Yeah… as soon as your girlfriend stops trying to rip my boyfriend to shreds with that pillow?” Deva’s brow furrows as he tries to determine when exactly the physical fight broke out.

“I’m going to be honest Deva. I think tonight’s the night we confess to them.”

“Confess what?”

“You know? That there’s no superior Mannar sibling because all of them are certifiably insane?” 

“And that we’re the angels for putting up with them?”

“Mhm. Exactly!” Aadhya places down her cider and makes her way into the sibling’s circle to drag Radha Rama out by the arm. “Food first, fighting later. I refuse to eat cold lasagna again, Babe.”

They spend the rest of the night eating, drinking, and playing poker. Varadha loses every round and at some point, he gives up and leans against Deva’s side instead, inadvertently becoming a part of his team. It’s something he realizes he should do more often because he likes the feeling of winning every once in a while, even if it was his boyfriend doing most of the work. 

By the time everyone leaves, Varadha can barely keep his eyes open. He leans his forehead against the door, eyes closed as he allows the silence to envelop him.

“Rey, come to bed.” Deva places a hand on his shoulder to peel him off the door.

“The door is so soft though.”  Varadha slurs through wine drunk lips. 

“The bamboo pillows you brought are softer, I promise. Come on now.” 

Soon, the two of them are tangled up under Varadha’s sheets, holding each other close as they let the day finally slow down around them.

“This is getting annoying.” Varadha murmurs into Deva’s chest.

“What, family dinners? I love you Bujji, but you have to stop picking fights with your sister. We could get to eating faster for one thing.” 

“No!” Varadha shoves Deva away before pulling him back when he realizes how cold it is. “No, you asshole. I meant having to work around our schedules to see each other recently.”

“Oh, that.” Deva hums and settles closer to Varadha. “I’ve been trying to find apartments closer to this side of the city. I think that could fix the scheduling conflict a little.” 

“Rent in Pathran is abhorrent, Bangarm.” 

“So? What’s your solution?”

“Move in with me?”

“Okay, yeah, sure.” Deva places a peck on Varadha’s head, chuckling a little.

“I’m being serious. Move in with me.” Varadha insists.

“I know, but let’s talk about this tomorrow when you’re less tipsy.” 

Varadha groans, asking the gods silently why they fated him to fall in love with an oblivious, asshole of a man. He reaches over to switch on the lights and because he was just a little annoyed with Deva, he revels when the man shields his eyes from the sudden onslaught. 

“Now you can look at me and see how serious I am when I ask this. Move in with me, Deva.” Varadha intertwines their hands together when their gazes meet. “It’s as simple as this: I’m happiest when I’m with you and I hate not being around you. I love it when you walk into the apartment, I love it when you help me cook, I love it when you help me clean. I love it when you curl up with me to watch a movie, I love it when you read next to me before bed, I love it when I see your teaching plans scattered across my desk. I even love it when you’re grading your students’ art projects and all the glitter falls onto the carpet. Nothing I do gets rid of it and I keep finding it everywhere, even in my coffee! I just love you so can we go back to being roommates? Please?” 

The way Deva flips him over onto his back and devours him is answer enough.

[parsabad]

Khansar/ Isfahan/ Iran

Photography: mohamadreza sharif