DARKER MORALITIES
He gently plodded the wet clay with his hands and repeatedly rolled a soft wodge into an oval structure. He squeezed it and then flattened it, his slender fingers weaving around the clay in a rhythm unheard and unseen by anyone but him.
Humming a soft tone, he left the newly molded clay to the side and picked up the bigger Spatula from his array of tools. Turning to his half-finished sculpture that gave off the impression of a large humongous bird-like creature, he took a swab at the edge to give it a serrated look. As he made continuous strikes on the sculpture, soft footsteps echoed up to his ears.
The smell of fresh Tulsi leaves wafted to his nose and a smile broke on his face.
"Dadi!"
The oldest Oberoi stared at her grandson with a soft look in her eyes. She slowly doddered closer and stood next to the big clay sculpture.
Omkara Singh Oberoi glanced at her and swiftly got up. He dragged the unused couch from the other corner of the room and deposited it right in front of her. She sighed and took a sit.
"Stubborn! You are still so stubborn."
Om gave a chuckle. "It is either stubborn or being obstinate like Shivaay." He cocked his head at her, "Your call."
Exasperatedly, she shook her head. "Vitality of youth! Ah, you three tire me out these days."
Om smiled and began to smoothen up the jutted surface. His fingers deftly singled out the uneven texture even invisible to the eye and continued his strokes. "Tired Dadi? Of us or your dearest sons and daughter-in-laws?"
The old woman gave a deep sigh that could be felt to her bones. She really felt her age now.
"I doubt I have to even respond to it. It is always those unethical saplings whose roots I had nurtured, that continue to make me feel like the biggest failure of my life."
"Hmm," Om nodded, "you are being considerate. I call them Sharks and Piranhas. They just love to devour."
She gave a gentle laugh. "You really know them very well."
"All of us do Dadi. Their toxicity affects the whole family and no one is unaware of it."
"But then again," Dadi mused as she turned her eyes on the profile of her grandson, "you know them far better than any of your brothers. Perhaps even better than me."
Om stiffened and Dadi took a moment to survey her grandson.
He was a handsome man, she reflected. May be not in the eye catching way his older brother was, but there was a subtle intensity in him. A certain depth that made him appear wiser, older and encompassing specially when cornered. Her eyes drifted to his lightly tanned complexion, which complimented his unshaven look and somehow willingly clicked with his long hair, making him appear rather rugged. She knew his personality was perhaps the calmest of the three, but his appearance spoke a different story and she knew that it was not that wrong either. He appeared serene, but there was a bubbling wrath inside him that burnt fiercer with every moment and while it was well hidden from others, her old experienced eyes could penetrate his masks.
"I don't know what you mean Dadi," he spoke after a short gust of silence.
"You don't?" his Dadi repeated his words with a small smile. Om whipped around to look at her and as his dark eyes met her lighter ones, a sudden feeling of unveiling swept across him. It was at that moment that the multitudes of masks he wore collapsed in a sudden shatter and he remained stark naked for those wise eyes to see and judge him.
He swallowed.
Dadi sighed. "Don't worry; I am not here to judge you."
Om stayed silent. "What do you know?"
"I know that no matter how much you hate your father, you are his son and you have some of his characters too."
His hand tightly clutched the Spatula, the knuckles whitening at the tight grip.
"I am nothing like that man," he replied, clenching his teeth.
"But you are not unlike him either." His Dadi leaned into the couch. "You both have this obsession of protecting your own. He hoards his wealth and you guard your brothers. Anytime any trouble that is about to meet them suddenly disappears and Shivaay and Rudra remain unaware of this."
Om closed his eyes. A feeling of stifling hatred for his inability to deny those words rose in him. He wanted to defend himself, but he could not.
"Om, how long do you plan to hide yourself?"
His hands collapsed to his sides and the tool in his hand fell off.
"I can't. I can't let them know."
Dadi closed her eyes. "Why Om? They are your brothers. They will accept it."
The chair careened sharply as Om got up with a jerk. He turned to look at his grandmother. His eyes burned a fierce red with a pain in them that made her want to beat her chest and cry. Cry that despite her trying, she could not shelter him from the darkness. She failed to hide him from the poison that bred with their name.
"What I did was wrong. I destroyed that man. I made his life worse than death. I proved that I am my father's son. I-I proved i-it." His voice broke towards the end and he collapsed in front of her. She watched her grandson with tormented eyes.
"Om----"
"I heard him Dadi," Om began in a soft dull tone. "I heard Mr Oberoi talking to that man. Telling him to--"
He raised his anguished eyes to meet the teary ones of his Dadi. "He wanted to kill Shivaay. Shivaay Dadi! My brother Shivaay!"
Tears dripped down his eyes and she could not help but feel that sitting down with that tormented look made him appear like one of his own pieces of art.
"I couldn't let that happen." His voice was slow, soft and trembling.
"I had to stop them."
Her heart throbbed as she watched her usually strong and collected child appear so weak and vulnerable. She gently laid a trembling hand on his head and beckoned him closer. Om immediately leaned forward and she enveloped him in a hug.
They sat in that way for a long time. The old lioness sat caressing her wounded child. A tear slipped from her aged eyes.
The hustle bustle of the household was an unknown mystery to that scene for Om's studio had been placed at the corner farthest from the gathering places. Far to the fourth wing of the mansion that was rarely used, Om found his solace in a darkly lit corridor which led into a large chamber, which, after being discovered years ago became his Art Studio.
It was painted in the deepest of browns and blacks giving it a feeling of warmth. The bright lights remained switched off, the room brightened by small crystal light chandeliers that hung on the ceiling. The smell of wet clay and paint pervaded the atmosphere.
She softly kissed his forehead and he detached himself from her embrace quickly swiping at his tears.
He looked at her with wide eyes.
"I am sorry!" the words fell from his mouth.
She however gave him a subdued look. "What you did was wrong, but your intentions were not. Did you------"
He immediately hastened into speech. "Yes Dadi, I admitted him in a good hospital and arranged proper care for him."
Dadi nodded.
"But how did you come to know of this,' he asked after a pause.
I am an Oberoi too, Om." She eyed him pointedly.
She stood up from the couch. "What you did was not correct, but you are not your father. If you were, you would have slaughtered him."
She gently ruffled his hair. "Look after your brothers Om."
He caught her hand and held to his cheek, his eyes clear and warm. Always Dadi, always."
She smiled and slowly walked out of the studio. Abruptly she stopped and turned.
"Om?"
"Yes Dadi?"
Her eyes looked at him pleadingly. "Stick to your morals Om. Do not let your hatred overcome you."
He gave a small smile. "I promise Dadi."
She smiled and the sound of her footsteps faded.
The little smile on his face disappeared and the soft look fell off from his eyes.
He blankly stared at the place she had occupied moments ago.
The sharp ring of the phone jolted him out of his thoughts. He reached to his phone on the stand and clicked on the green button.
"Hello!"
"Hello sir. I am speaking from Tanuja Nursing Home. Is this Om Singh?"
His eyes narrowed. "Yes it is."
"Sir we regret to inform you that the man you admitted in our Nursing Home is no more. We tried our best sir, but the patient flat-lined around ten minutes ago."
"I see. Thank you for informing me."
"But sir, the body----"
The call was cut with a sharp click.
He swiftly scrolled through his messages and found one from a private number. He opened the message and smiled.
Deftly switching off the phone, he extracted the sim card from his mobile. Staring at the glinting chip, his mind went to his Dadi's words.
"I always stick to my morals Dadi." He cocked his head to flick his hair to the sides and with a sharp push embedded the card into the clay figurine.
"And my morals tell me to protect my brothers." His eyes glinted brightly. "At any cost."
