Epilogue
Six years later:
Udaipur:
“Tzara asked me out on a date!”
Abhimanyu who had taken a big gulp of fruit juice, choked, spewing the contents in his mouth out, narrowly missing a bystander, making the guy jump away and curse at him. But he was coughing too badly to even look up and apologize. Abhir, on the other hand, was calmly drinking his favorite pineapple juice like he had just discussed the weather or the latest movie.
“Abe, kitne saal ka hain tu? You’re barely out of diapers!”
That got Abhir’s dander up. “I’m 12.”
“11,” Abhimanyu corrected, already a scowl darkening his face.
“12. My birthday is next week so I’ve decided that I’m 12,” he scowled back, the expression so like his dad’s that it was eerie. Now that he had begun losing all the baby fat, his features were evolving turning him more and more into Junior Abhimanyu.
“Fine! 12. Still a kid. Aur yeh Tzara kaun hain?”
“She’s my classmate in school.”
“She is 11 and she is asking another 11-year-old on a date? What the hell! When we’d been your age…”
“Dad, don’t start with that, OK? Times were different then.”
Abhimanyu tapped him on the back of his head. “Doesn’t mean kids start behaving like adults.” He paused as if a new thought just struck him. “Achha sunn, Roohi ko kisi ne aise date pe bulaya kya?” he asked, suspiciously.
Abhir finished the last of his drink with undue haste, threw the paper glass in the trashcan and grabbed his backpack. “I think it’s time for the flight, dad. I’m off, OK? I’ll call you from papa’s phone as soon as I reach Shimla.”
“Arre sunn!” Abhimanyu shouted at his son who had already almost reached the departures gate at the airport. “Sambhalke jaana! Bathroom keliye jaana ho toh…”
Abhir turned back, red in the face, gritting his teeth, looking around. “Dad! Don’t embarrass me!”
Abhimanyu bit back his laughter. “Take care. Have fun!” Abhir waved and walked into the airport. Abhimanyu waited until his son disappeared from the view before calling Abhinav. “Sharma ji, your son is on his way. Flight is on time. Message me once he reaches.”
“Ji, ji, bilkul. Waise thoda nervous hoon ji. What if Nicki ji doesn’t like…”
“Arre Sharma ji… Junior has already met your bride-to-be and likes her. Don’t worry. Aur haan, he hasn’t bought his sherwani for your wedding yet. Wants to twin with you. So you two have some shopping to do.”
“Arre waah! Yeh toh aur bhi achha hain ji.”
“Chaliye, rakhta hoon. Akshara aur mein shaadi ke do din pehle pahuch jaayenge. Bye.”
****
Akshara was sitting at her desk, going through the latest case that she had taken up. Calling it a desk was probably insulting it, she thought ruefully. Abhimanyu had gone all-out a few years ago when she’d said she wanted to turn one of the rooms as her office. With glass book cases, large polished oak table that came with the most comfortable revolving chairs, and two non-revolving ones facing hers, laptop… the room could easily pass off as judge’s chambers instead of a defense lawyer’s small office. She looked up when she heard the sound of walking stick touching the floor in tandem with soft tread of feet in sandals.
“Papa?” she called out. Harshvardhan stopped like a guilty child who got caught trying to sneak out of the classroom. She got up and came out of her room with a frown. “What are you doing out of your room? You had undergone stent procedure just two days ago and you know what your son instructed right? No stairs as yet.”
Harshvardhan sighed impatiently. When he’d got the health scare, Abhimanyu had gone to Mumbai and dragged him back to Udaipur, practically putting him under house arrest while he conducted all the necessary and some unnecessary tests. “I’m bored, Akshara. I can’t sit in that room anymore and if I have to watch one more ITV show, my BP will shoot up. Kya bakwaas dikhaate rehte hain…”
Akshara giggled. “Who told you to watch those things?”
“Toh mein aur kya karun? And what’s with this stupid walking stick? I don’t even need it.” But the son had insisted, and the father had given in.
Akshara’s eyes softened with sympathy. Until the blocked arteries issue, Harshvardhan had been an active person and the bedrest was getting to him. Her eyes brightened. “Aap mere case mein mera help karenge?” He frowned. “One of my clients filed a case against a hospital for criminal negligence and I’m still struggling with all the medical terms used…”
“Haan, haan. Chalo.” Harshvardhan moved with renewed energy that added a decided spring to his step. “I’ve been in this business for so many years now that I can teach you everything you need. Those people can throw all the medical terms they want but you have this Harshvardhan Birla on your side.”
Harshvardhan Birla and modesty never did go hand in hand, she thought, smothering a grin. She made him sit at her chair and handed over all the necessary paperwork and a scribble pad and pen. “This is what they sent recently and here…”
“Maasi maa! Ooo Maasi maa! Where are you?”
Harshvardhan took the papers from Akshara. “I’ll see to these things. You go. Your laadli is calling you.”
Akshara left him to his work and went down the stairs that led to the hall, kitchen and a guest bedroom.
After all the hoopla that day 6 years ago, it had taken time for her and Abhimanyu to explain things to Abhir in such a way that the little one didn’t get confused or scared. But once he’d accepted the Kanhaji explanation, his first question to Abhimanyu had been, toh mein aap ko kya bulau? Abhimanyu had gone down on his knees and hugged Abhir. Aap jo chaahe. Aap ko jo achha lage. Docman hi bulalo, mujhe koi problem nahi hain. And after careful consideration, Abhir had locked on to – dad. He said he’d call Abhinav as papa and Abhimanyu as dad. They had shifted back to Udaipur the next academic year, Abhimanyu had rejoined Birla hospital, Abhir the same school that Roohi had been studying in and Abhinav stayed back in Kasauli. But Abhir spent part of his holidays and a few of the festivals with his papa so everyone was happy.
The only difference was Akshara and Abhimanyu no longer lived at Birla Mansion. Abhimanyu had point blank refused to even entertain the thought. There came a point in life when one had to accept a few facts and go accordingly, he said. And fact was there was no way they could go back there and lead a peaceful, happy life. Too many things had been said and too much had happened. Instead, they’d bought a small yet spacious independent bungalow, redid the interiors and moved there. It was close enough to Birla mansion for the kids to go back forth yet far enough for the adults to stay out of each other’s vicinity.
Akshara never objected to Abhimanyu’s family bonding with Abhir but Abhimanyu, for a very long time, made sure Abhir never spent any alone time with the adults in that house. And his relationship with his mother has never been the same since that day. Completely blocking her out had not been an option for long because kids had started noticing and asking questions, but he kept the conversations minimum and to the point with Manjari. Cordial not affectionate. Neutral not warm. No matter what anyone said, no matter how much Manjari tried to emotionally blackmail and plead, he didn’t budge. Being elder didn’t give anyone the right to get away with anything, had been his point and if the punishment caused him a little pain in the process, well, he was OK with that.
And unlike before, Akshara now didn’t interfere with such decisions or try to change his mind. She knew what made Abhimanyu take such a stand. If he hadn’t known about the custody when he did, he would have lost Akshara. If he had known and supported Akshara in the court, Abhir would’ve assumed Abhimanyu didn’t want him in his life. From his line of thinking, either way, he’d have lost his family. And as a woman, his wife, his lover, and a lawyer, Akshara had to agree. Their relationship was truly forged in fire. The metal was strong, and it turned them into each other’s shields when faced with any adversary.
Now they lived separately and met their respective families on occasions and festivals but that’s about it. Although that was not the case with Abhir and Roohi. Those two bonded so well that people often mistook them for twins and Roohi, drawn to the warmth and affection that she received from Akshara began spending more and more time at her Poppy’s house. As time went by, Akshu maasi became maasi maa. And the little girl had begged and pleaded with her matasree and her Poppy to change her name from Roohi Birla to Roohi Neel Birla in her school and birth records. Now Akshara called her Neelu and Roohi loved it.
“Kya hain, Neelu? Why are you shouting?” Akshara asked, making her way into the kitchen with Roohi aka Neelu tagging along like an exuberant shadow.
“Maasi maa, I practiced the song. Listen and tell me how it is.”
Roohi loved to sing and Akshara was happy to teach. Although Arohi did crib, both Roohi and her maasi maa ignored it and continued with their music lessons. “I’ve to get dinner ready for your dada ji. So you sing, I’ll cook. Teek hain?”
Roohi nodded and hopped onto the barstool, cleared her throat, and began.
Bin puchhe mera naam aur pataa
Rasmon ko rakh ke pare
Chaar kadam bas chaar kadam
Chal do naa saath mere
Bin kuch kahe, bin kuch sune
Haathon mein haath liye
Chaar kadam bas char kadam
Chal do na saath mere
Akshara blew her an air kiss and did a thu thu thu. And when her Neelu fumbled a little with the words, she joined in, not letting her stop.
Raahon mein tumko jo dhoop sataye
Chaaon bicha denge hum
Andhere daraye toh jaa kar falak pe
Chand sajaa denge hum
Chhaye udaasi latife suna kar
Tujhko hansa denge hum
Hanste hansaate yunhi gungunaate
Chal denge chaar kadam
Neither noticed Abhimanyu standing at the kitchen entrance, drinking in the scene with a contented look on his face until he glided in with an impromptu two-step and an offbeat,
Yea yeah.. na na nana…
La ra la.. ra.
Roohi and Akshara winced and did their best not to cover their ears at his besuri base voice. They giggled when Abhimanyu alternated Akshara and Roohi into a waltz to go with his tune.
“Bolo na maasi maa,” Roohi asked, finally settling beside her poppy and began chewing the roti and sabzi that he fed her directly from the bowl. “How did I sing?”
“Perfect. It’s come out perfect. Most people try to imitate the actual singers but you’re not doing that and it’s a great thing, Neelu. I’m very proud of you.”
Abhimanyu kissed Roohi’s forehead, pride shining out of his eyes and fed her another roti piece. “Achha, Princess, yeh batao…Tzara kaun hain?” he tried to ask casually.
Roohi moved towards Akshara with undue haste. “Maasi maa, this is for dada ji, right? I’ll go and give it to him. You relax.”
“Arre, sambhalke!” Akshara called out as her Neelu practically ran out of the kitchen with the dinner thali in her hands.
“Dono ke dono ek number ke badmaash hain, I tell you! Masters at covering for each other!” he grumbled and frowned when he saw Akshara smiling widely. “What?”
“And where do you think they got it from? Pehle tum aur Neel ab Abhir aur Roohi. It’s called taking tradition forward, Dr Abhimanyu Birla!” she teased. Their smiles held the pain of the loss they still felt almost every day. But life went on and the memories of their brother now mostly brought a smile instead of grief.
****
“Abhi,” she breathed, stroking her hands up the moving, surging muscles of his back. Oh, the wild magnificence of belonging to him! At times, she still found it hard to believe this was reality. And on those days, her Abhi spent this extra time reassuring her. Reassuring himself too, she had a feeling. Her fingers clutched mindlessly at his back as his long, slow movements began to heat her body. He felt her response and fiercely buried his mouth against the sensitive little hollow between her throat and collarbone, biting her just enough to let her feel his teeth, then licking where he'd bitten. She whimpered, that soft, uncontrollable little sound that drove him crazy, and he lost control. Hearing her little cries and going still crazier, wilder.
In the aftermath, like that after a storm of unbelievable violence, they lay in exhausted silence. His massive shoulders crushed her, making it difficult for her to breathe, but she would gladly have spent the rest of her life lying there. Her fingers slowly stroked the sweat-darkened hair, threading through the heavy, live silk. He stirred, lifting his weight onto his forearms and staring down at her. His brown-black eyes looking at her the way a man looks at the woman who belongs to him.
Suddenly he frowned. “Akshu?”
“Hmmm?”
“I don’t think you should teach Roohi to sing,” he stated.
“Huh? Yeh joke tha?” If there was a father who was prouder of his daughter’s voice, she was yet to meet him.
“No!” he rolled away, pulling her along with him, settling down with her head on his shoulder, his fingers lost in her hair. “She sings beautifully. I don’t know how it’s possible genetically, but she takes after you in this. She’ll grow up before we know it and some guy will listen to her voice, come running after her, fall for her…” he shuddered. “No. No more singing for Roohi,” he said decisively.
Akshara gave him a dubious look and bit back the sudden burst of laughter. Schooling her face into complete seriousness, she rested her chin on his chest and nodded. “You’re right. She’d take one look at his intense eyes and one word out of that deep voice, she’d let go of all her sensibilities… That guy would take advantage of that and…”
Abhimanyu grinned, pleased. “You saw me that day and thought I had intense eyes and deep voice?” And then the rest of what she said sunk it, drawing a scowl. “Take advantage of… what do you mean?”
“Mauke ka fayda uthaana!” she translated helpfully which didn’t help the matters at all.
“Fayde ki bachhi, tujhe toh mein…”
Laughing, she tried to roll away from him while he caught her and began tickling her neck with his stubble making her squirm and laugh some more!
****
They say a good love is one that sits you down, gives you a drink of water, and pats you on top of the head. But I say a good love is one that casts you into the wind, sets you ablaze, makes you burn through the skies and ignite the night like a phoenix; the kind that cuts you loose like a wildfire and you can't stop running simply because you keep on burning everything that you touch! I say that's a good love; one that burns and flies, and you run with it!
And Abhira here are burning, flying, and running with it.
Thank you all so very much for reading. Will await your comments.
Love,
Suvika / Suvi.
Cricket
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