It was on a Wednesday morning ten years after his sister’s death that Ram Kapoor received a strange phone call.
“Good morning, I am Mrs Radhika Sharma. I am the Managing Director of the Trust that runs Shishu Home for Orphaned Children”.
Assuming it was likely a donation request, Ram was about to transfer the call to his secretary when Mrs Sharma’s query gave him pause.
“May I speak with Ms Shivina Kapoor?”
Grief is one of the most versatile emotions a human being can feel, it comes in many shapes and sizes. But even Ram, who was no stranger to it, having lost many loved ones in his time, was always caught off guard by its intensity.
Every time he heard her name, his heart dropped a beat and his insides turned hollow. His mind filled with images of her, often from when she was of the age his eldest daughter Pihu was at the time.
And thus, his mind conjured the image of a nine-year-old Shivi, already tall for her age, bounding down the steps of their family home to greet him one summer when he returned early from university.
With much effort, Ram cleared his mind and his throat, “May I ask what this is regarding?”
“We have been trying to reach Ms Kapoor for a while now,” Mrs Sharma said, “We wish to honour her contributions to our Trust and her continued generosity over the years.”
Ram put his pen down and pushed his chair away from the desk. Leaning back, he felt ashamed by his surprise. He had loved Shivi with his whole heart, but she had never shown the slightest altruistic inclination in her life.
“Mrs Sharma, I’m Ram Kapoor, Shivina’s older brother,” he said, “I’m afraid my sister passed away ten years ago.”
There was a distinct pause after Mrs Sharma’s shocked ‘Ohh’. And then she said,
“I’m very sorry for your loss, Mr Kapoor. May I ask who has been making the donations from her account since? You see, while we welcome all assistance, however large or small, they have been the single largest donor we have ever had, and we would like to extend our gratitude at our upcoming charity event”.
“I’m sorry, are you saying you are still receiving donations from Shivi’s account?”
Mrs Sharma asked for a minute to check.
Ram’s confusion grew, he wondered if Shivi had set it up. But how was money still coming into the account?
To his chagrin, he realised that he had never gotten around to setting up something like this in her memory. His mother and brother were even less likely to have orchestrated it. Perhaps Akshay had done it?
“Yes, Mr Kapoor” Mrs Sharma said, “I have ten years’ worth of receipts here and they’re all from the same bank account registered to Ms Shivina Kapoor. The latest one was credited last Friday”.
“Could you send me the document please?” Ram requested.
He assured her that he would check with his family and the bank to find out who was behind it. She let him go after exacting a promise to revert so that the person could be suitably acknowledged for their benevolence.
Ram called his secretary and requested Adi’s presence at once. Adi, his best friend and business partner, had an office down the corridor from Ram.
Adi entered with a perfunctory knock within minutes and Ram explained the situation. Equally surprised, Adi was only certain that it hadn’t been them, Ram or anyone at the RK group, as he would have most certainly known.
He was, however, able to get Akshay’s current mobile number and waited with Ram as he made what was sure to be an awkward phone call.
His former brother-in-law now lived in the US, working as an assistant director in a studio in Hollywood. He had stopped modelling and acting in the years after Shivi passed. But a combination of his love for films and the need to put distance between himself and the grisly events that had transpired had lured him out of their lives.
Ram often thought of him, asking Priya for snippets but he had never reached out himself. The irony did not escape him that while Akshay now only contacted his once favourite cousin Priya sporadically, he resolutely remained the sole reason Ram and Priya had gotten together in the first place.
Akshay did not seem pleased to hear from him. Perhaps it was the quality of the phone connection, but his replies were short and brusque.
No, he had never heard Shivi mention any orphanage and no, he was not making payments to any Trust in her name or from her account. He seemed to particularly bristle at the implication that he had any sort of access to Shivi’s bank account.
Before he hung up though, he asked Ram to repeat the name of the orphanage.
“Is that the one in Mulund?”
Adi checked on his phone and nodded. When Ram confirmed it, Akshay said, “That’s the one where Sandy used to volunteer.”
As Ram ended the call, he realised that it was indeed located close to Meera Ma’s house and that his youngest sister-in-law, Sandy was a likely candidate for such philanthropy. But the fact remained that she didn’t have access to Shivi’s bank account, and it would be completely out of character for her to use funds that were not hers, even for charitable purposes.
Adi, who had been Sandy’s boss for the longest time, dismissed the notion at once. He promised to follow up on the matter with the bank as Ram checked his watch and realised that he had to pick up Priya and the kids from Meera Ma’s place. They had gone over early that day to help with the preparations for Sandy’s upcoming engagement. Perhaps he could find out more there.
En route, he realised that the orphanage was only a short detour away and couldn’t resist the temptation to take a quick look. As he pulled up at the gates, his phone rang.
“I just heard back from the bank,” Adi said, “The bank account was opened by your father twenty-five years back and…”
But Ram had stopped listening.
Beyond the gates was a basketball court. Amidst half a dozen young and noisy boys and girls, was a familiar figure.
“Ram, are you there?” Adi asked, “Did you hear me? It’s a joint account, you don’t think…”
Disbelief flooding his veins, Ram apologised to Adi and cut him off, ringing his brother immediately.
The figure on the basketball court signalled for a time-out. As he jogged to the edge of the court to take the call, Ram recognised, with no uncertainty, his younger brother, Shubham.
“Ram bhai, what’s up?”
“Shubu, where are you?” he asked.
“I’m outside, is everything ok?”
“Where outside?”
A beat of silence and then, “I’m with Sid and the gang, we’re at Old Tavern”.
Ram who had turned down the engine to join his brother halted. It wasn’t the lie; it wasn’t even the effortless nature of it that stunned him. His brother had lied to him many times on many occasions in the past. No, it was something else that caused the hair on his forearm to stand on end.
Shubu always lied to get out of trouble.
His hands shaking, he cut the call and rejected it when Shubu called back straight away.
From the windshield, he saw Shubham run a hand through his hair and stare at the screen. Shortly, he was surrounded by a swarm of kids and Ram watched as he pocketed the phone and turned around to return to the game.
Ram drove away and his evening passed in a blur. He couldn’t bring himself to ask the Sood’s anything but simply enjoyed their warm hospitality that he had grown used to.
His astute wife, however, asked him what was bothering him as soon as they were alone at night preparing for bed.
“Do you think I’m a bad brother?” Ram asked. “I know I failed Shivi but…”
Priya cut him off, reminding him that he had always looked out for his step-siblings as his own. From her own experience, she knew this was not the case in most broken families. As a couple, they believed that relationships rooted in love mattered more than the ones forced upon one by the accident of birth.
He struggled to explain the day’s events. She seemed to recognise the name when he mentioned the orphanage.
“I feel like I’m losing him, Priya” Ram confessed, “And I don’t know what to do or how to make things better.”
Priya snuggled closer to him and resting her head on his shoulder, took his hand in hers.
“We have both loved our younger siblings like our first children and it’s a mixed feeling to accept them as grown-ups.”
“He wasn’t like this” Ram said, quietly. “Shubu was very different when he was younger. He was the quiet one, always sitting in the corner with his little sketchbook. Hard to believe, right?”
Priya squeezed his hand.
“But when Dad died, everything changed. It’s like he became a different person, angry with the world and mistrustful of everyone in it.”
“I wish I had known him before,” Priya said. “Although, sometimes I wonder if we can ever truly know another person.”
As he kissed her goodnight, there was something wistful in her eyes.
He knew that between them, they had enough resting demons to last them a lifetime. He also knew that sometimes, it was best not to probe too much lest they awaken.
As he settled against his pillow, it was his brother’s laughing face that filled his mind. Before Ram's phone call, Shubu had been playing with children, running around the court and laughing and cheering with abandon. Ram could not remember a time he had seen Shubu that light of heart.
Why was Shubham, whose greed had led to the division of their beloved father’s estate, donating money to an orphanage from the joint account he shared with his late twin Shivina? Why had he lied to Ram about being at a bar while spending time with the orphan children?
As a child, his brother had been shy and sweet. His palpable angst had fuelled his teenage years. But as an adult, Ram realised with a heavy heart, that he didn't know his brother at all. His own life experiences had blinded him to the ocean that existed between the two versions he knew of his little brother.
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