Usually when someone thinks about betraying his family, or is about to do so, there is always a nervousness in them. Heartbeat accelerating, palms sweating, pacing back and forth, going over the consequences and expression of betrayals on someone's family.
Ram Prasad Maheswari had none of them on his face, just a steely determination in his eyes. He stood as if he has made peace with whatever he had decided and walked past the tempations that could held him back. Over his head, the sky rumbled followed by a flash of lightning. As if Nature also knew what her child was about to do and could only announce to the world in her own way.
A silhoutte appeared from the shadows, Ram Prasad's back to this stranger. Sensing someone behind him, the older man turned on his feet quickly, momentarily thrown off but quickly gaining his composure.
He nodded quickly, taking a step toward the stranger and handing over an envelope. The stranger's hand reached out to take it, but the younger Maheswari Brother didn't let go yet.
"It will be followed through. You have to trust me on that."
His face twisted something remotely close to a sneer, "Do not speak to me about Trust. Not ever." The stranger too, seemed startled at his sudden outburst. Ram Prasad took a deep breath and closed his eyes, thinking something quickly. The next moment he had snatched his hand back.
"It had to be done this week. Bhai sa is expecting to launch IPO *12 this week, we won't get another chance to destroy everything. Do you understand?"
"Maybe you are underestimating him." Ram Prasad looked at the stranger at that, "When you are out on hunting, make sure you have both bullets and traps for a successful prey. If you do things halfway it might harm you."
A ghost of smile appeared on this stranger's face, making Ram Prasad weary.
"Do not worry. I will have real fun with Mr. Gadodia."
Present day
Sharmishtha Gadodia descended from the stairs of Kaali Maa temple with a plate filled with things for puja, followed by Shobha Bose with a similar one. Both the ladies distributed the sweets to the homeless people outside, then handed the plates to the driver waiting nearby. Not in a mood to go home yet, they both walked toward the lake adjacent to the temple, sitting on the bank and idly chit chatting. Shobha Bose totally ditched her half hearted attempt at Hindi and went full Bangaal, * 13 her hands moving everywhere as she become more animated. Sharmishtha looked at the older woman as if she is the gravity that is holding everything together.
Shobha Bose was not her Birth mother, but she was much more to her. An only child, Sharmishtha was married to Swaraj Bose when she was only a mere 17 year old girl. Not to speak ill of the dead, but Swaraj was not as attentive or loving husband that a girl always hopes for. But Sharmishtha got a mother in her Mother-in-law, who, after Swaraj died, protected and nurtured the newly widowed and her mere 2 months old as if they were her own daughter and Granddaughter. The trio remained together, and once Sharmishtha remarried, Shobha left with some of her fellow widowed friends for Tirtha *14. She returned five years back and since then living with the Gadodia's.
Once the conversation died down a bit, the older woman looking ahead at the lake, lost in her own world, Sharmishtha made up her mind about something and cleared her throat, which effectively brought back her attention.
"Maa, I was thinking . . . " She started, looking down at her feet as she mumbled, "This year it will be his 25th anniversary. Maybe we should go to Banaras, do puja so that his soul rest in peace." She trailed off seeing the other woman's amused glance at her.
"Shomi, say it directly. You want me to drown his ashes in Ganga, don't you?" Exhaling deeply, she shook her head, the earlier amusement fading, "I can't do it. Khoma koris.*15."
"Maa." Sharmishtha sounded embarrassed, but curiosity quickly overtook it, "He was your son. What you do with his last remains is your wish, but it's been 25 years. I don't understand."
"Don't ask me the reason Shomi." The older woman turned at her, "Did I ever want to know why you never told Soru about her real Father?"
"Does it bother you?" She started to apologize but Shobha cut her off even before she started.
"It was not my place to say anything. She is your daughter."
"You have every right. If you want me to . . . "
"It's too late for that." She brushed off her concerns, "But you kept him alive through her name, I will be forever greatful for that. Anyways, I am not saying both the things are similar, but please excuse the old lady. I can't do what you want me to."
"It's okay Maa." Sharmishtha gave up on the topic. She never had much hope in the first place either, "Can I say something?" At the former's quick nod, she replied, "It feels like you are waiting for the right time to do it. For some reason you can't let go."
"Can anyone?" She inquired, the earlier amusement coming back, "Maybe I am just waiting so that you all can drown both of us ashes together."
"Maa!" Sharmishtha sounded shocked, followed by Shobha Bose's loud laughter, "Do not talk like that. Please I beg you."
"Bhul bolchi naki?*16"
"Oh God, I was wrong to ask you! I swear I will never raise this topic. Please don't say that ever again."
"Fine fine." The older woman pat Sharmishtha's hand, "You are too soft-hearted to even make a joke."
"A very bad joke." She finally let out a small smile. As the two ladies finally started moving and headed for Baari, Sharmishtha kept taking glances at her Mother and could not help but wonder if under all that boisterous loud nature, she is keeping a secret.
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Parvati Gadodia stared down the maid in front of her as the latter requested a leave for the next two days. Twisting her face bitterly, she started berating the girl thoroughly nearly making the poor one cry. Then she moved on to nitpick the way she had spread the mango pickle in the Sun as per her instructions. Once she was satisfied at the way the young girl's face crumbled, she smirked at herself and moved to the edge of roof.
And was instantly displeased.
Bhagwaan, she muttered to herself followed by a few, well chosen curses. Her young Granddaughter, Swara, had finally arrived from her Music teaching classes, but she had not yet graced the house with her presence. Her pink Scooty was parked right in the middle of streets, the owner of it busy to distribute a packet of sweets and balloons to kids who were playing Cricket there. A usual routine whenever she gets a new student, she says it's her good luck charm.
Such a waste of money, Parvati thought to herself. As if those brats playing on the streets is helping her to get students. She never really liked Music or Dances, a waste of effort that's what they are. Still, when Laado wanted to learn Violin she gave her permission, only because it's somewhat respectable. Guitar though, it's just a raucuss. It puzzles Parvati that why Swara, despite being brought up into a family which swim into Crores, had to go out to make money? She says it's not about money, Parvati remembered the initial days of her teaching classes and snorted to herself. Everything is always about money.
Is not the reason those Bangaalans are here in her house?
On the streets, once Swara was done with her distribution, she seperated herself from the gorup of happy children, just content to observe their happiness quietly from a distance. She always loved kids, loved seeing them smiling and happy. What better way is there than Music? Music always brings happiness, always manages to soothe our souls despite the heartaches and losses.
Her smile faded with time, but the twinkles in her eyes didn't go away. Her attention was momentarily diverted when she heard a whistle somewhere near her. Her ears followed the sound and stopped when she saw a young guy in Hoodie, whistling to himself as he walked to the other side.
She was carried away to another time almost immediately.
"I love Holidays. I love Durga Puja, Kaali puja, this puja and that puja." A 16 year old Swara who was drunk for the first and last time in her life, only after two sips of strong Beer and was blabbering happily, "I looove Christmas. But not Holi. Yuck!" She stopped, making a face.
"That's because you are allergic to colors." Ragini piped up, to which she nodded, her hands reaching out for her hair. The former moved away, resulting into a pout.
"Correct."
"Do you even know any Christmas song?" Lakshya was totally drunk, his words slurring together to the point that they were not making any sense. Swara seemed to take offense at that, but before she could say another voice jumped in between.
"Whose stupid idea it was to include Alcohol in a truth or dare game?" A tall, lean boy with jet black hair looked accusingly at Ragini, to which she widened her eyes.
"Oh, rule book Sans . . . kaar." Lakshya hiccuped, giving up on to say something as he leaned down on the grass, behind them Maheswari Mansion stood vigil. The boy, Sanskaar, rolled eyes, exasperated at his Brother's antics.
"For your infrusmation . . " Swara started, her eyes first at the half passed out Lakshya, then turning to Ragini who giggled at her mispronunciation, "What?"
"Information. Infrustructure."
"Information. That's the word you are looking for." Sanskaar helped. Swara gave him a nod, then turned to Lakshya once again.
"For your . . that, I know Christmas song. Should I start?"
"Maybe not." Ragini put an arm around her sister, "There is none in the mansion but maids are still here. Someone might wake up."
"I will be really quiet Ragini. Shh . . . " Swara trailed off, a finger on her lips to emphasize her point.
"Why not? Alcohol, stupidity, everything has been done. Why should we be deprived of this last thing?" Sanskaar sassed, his arms crossed over his chest.
"You are . . mean." Swara hiccuped, eyes narrowing, then burst into laughter, "Lakshya is contagious, Ragini. He transferred his hiccies to me." She pointed at him.
"Objection! Overrr. . . ." Lakshya muttered in his dazed state, his head rolling to the other side. Swara kept laughing, beside her Ragini looked torn between giggles and seriousness. Sanskaar just looked irritated, looking away from the drunk duo mess, but he turned toward Swara when she started humming under her breath.
" . . . highway 63, cursing it with all his might, a man whose face I knew on time, turning around he waved and smiled at me*17." She hiccuped once again, ruining the flow of the song, ''Oops." She grinned sheepishly.
"Princess Swara, zindabad!" Lakshya made a half hearted attempt of raising his hand but his body failed him, falling uselessly beside him. Ragini had enough and she too started laughing, the giggle of the girls echoing in the air.
Sanskaar shook his head and started whistling the very song's initial lines.
Swara kept staring at the hooded man who had evoked such a long, but not forgotten, memory. Maybe it was the song, not a mainstream Christmas song and not known to many people, She herself can't remember where and how it got stuck in her head. Unknown to herself her feet had taken a couple of steps toward the stranger, maybe to ask him how did he know this song; but soon she stopped herself, sensing her momentary lack of control. Slapping her head at her foolishness she let out a laugh, at the same time a car stopped by, her Mother and Dida coming out of it.
She didn't remember any of it after ten minutes.
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Lakshya was thinking.
Which is spectacular, for the lack of a better word. Thinking and Lakshya is normally the anti-thesis of each other. But recent developments changed that thing.
Adarsh Bhaiyya. The elder Brother's face swum in front of him and Lakshya looked away angrily, his frame leaned against his Deep blue Mercedes Bench exclusive series car. If he was really into literature he might have produced some well chosen quotes about Betrayal, but the one thing he could remember at this moment was Et tu, Brute? *18
In all fairness, he knows it's not his sibiling's fault. The fault only lies in his Father's head, who never gave any damn about his younger Son. All his life Lakshya had only seen two sides of his Father, the Businessman Durga Prasad and the man who spends time in home and appreciate the children. Everyone but never Lakshya, nope, never. He was, is, and always will be a screw up in his Father's life. A useless good for nothing who ruins family's name and reputation in society. When he was a child he used to think his Dad looks at him in hatred, but it got cleared out pretty soon. He do not look at him with hatred, he just doesn't care or bother to look at him at all.
And the reason was everyone else was better than him.
Adarsh Bhaiyya was always everyone's favorite, his life was basically a love letter for the elders. Best student in the class, He always used to win those stupid Outstanding Student awards at the end of each year which Lakshya never gave any hoot to. He made a career in the family company like everyone expected him to, married a girl his family chose. And now he is going to be a Father, a nice little five year plan ahead of him. The perfect Adarsh, everyone's idol.
And then, there was Uttara. The only girl child in the family so she got all the love and attention for nothing. Lakshya didn't have anything to measure her up because how different she and he is. Poles apart, yes, that might be a good phrase to describe them together. Lakshya do not think much of her, she presence is just another point adding upto the list of injustice against him.
There was another one too, but well, he's Dead. Dead people do not create problems, he snorted to himself.
He thought about his Dad once again and felt rage bubbling inside him. He is not really an evil person, doesn't really care if his brothers and sister gets Noble award or set themselves to the path of damnation. He just wants one thing- His Dad on his knees, begging to him to overtake his legacy. Accepting that he's the right Heir of this family. Acceting that he's more alike him than anyone else in the family. That's it. He just wants his Father to stop throwing competitions in his way, cause it's just not fair that he has to fight for his own fortune.
And really, Lakshya's way of playing unfair? It is pretty harsh. The way he strikes, he makes sure the competitor never stands on their feet.
A car slowed down near him and a young man, almost of his age, walked toward him. Lakshya gave an Adaab *19 to him which he returned, then he handed over a small transparent packet filled with white powder.
"Use it carefully. A pinch of it would be sufficient." He cautioned, then smiled wickedly, "Who's the lucky girl, Lucky Bhai?"
"Don't be stupid, Rahim." He kept the pocket safely in his pant's pocket, "When I bed someone, I want them willing and alive. Or just alive." Shrugging as the other person laughed, he added, "Go to the club, payment is waiting for you."
The other man walked away after a nod as Lakshya stood there, a sinister plan cooking in his head.
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The Man with a burnt scar on his wrist signed away some paper works and handed it over to a Advocate sitting opposite him, who checked them thoroughly, before giving him an affirmative nod. Sensing this moment to be celebratory, and to compliment the person opposite him, the Man signaled a butler standing near him who poured two glasses of champagne for them. After a click and few murmur of appreciations, both the male finished off their drinks.
After the advocate left, the owner of this house sat on his usual fluffy single couch, rotating a glass of strong liquor in his one hand as he stared at the fireplace in the corner of the living room. The fingers on his other hand was busy tapping a key on the arm rest, his deep velvety voice joining it after a few moments.
"Won't you ride in my runway sleigh, the reindeer might be biting but they seem to know their way. And we can fly these presents to the good girls and the boys, and we'll all have a merry . . ." *20
At the end of the song, his eyes fell on his burnt scar, ruining the quiet peaceful moment immediately. Finishing his drink with a single gulp, he rotated the glass in his grip for a couple of seconds, then threw it away across the room.
His eyes seemed to be taking a sadistic pleasure seeing the broken glasses, but his mind was already far away, a memory and nightmare alike.
May 31st, 2011
It had to be a nightmare, he said to himself.
There was no way it could be a reality. Why there will be darkness around him while he slept? He hated Darkness, his Mother knows it. Why the mattress feels so stiff against his back? Why his body feels as if he's lying on fire itself?
He tried to gulp but could not, his throat was too dry. He tried to lick his lips but pretty sure he didn't have any saliva left inside his mouth.
Then an old lady was in front of him, with a cloth in her hands which she kept directly over his mouth. He tried to frown in confusion, but then there was a drop of water over his lips and he was momentarily distracted by the feel. Who says Water doesn't have any taste? This is what salvation might taste like!
The old lady repeated the process until he had enough and soon he remembered it all. The Car crash, the excruciating pain in his body. The blood and gore, a beautiful girl with light brown skin, her eyes unfocused and empty.
"You had a nightmare." The old lady's voice brought him back to reality and he blinked a couple of times, trying to clear his head, "You were moving too much. The bandages could have given away."
"I am . . . " He licked his lips once, his voice rough and feels like unused for a long time, "I am confused."
"You were not in your dreams." The lady sat beside him, feeling his temperature with the back of her hand, "In fact, I might have an idea what you were dreaming about. Want to know?"
He didn't remember anything from his dreams, or nightmares like she mentioned, so he nodded. The lady removed her hand and fixed him with a grim look.
"Names. People who might have been responsible for your this . . . " She moved her hand, signaling the state of his body, making him shudder, "Your conscious mind is still not ready to face it, but your unconscious mind is already on work."
"Is that okay?"
The lady chuckled, "Son, how can anything be okay when you are lying here, in my bed?" The grim look was replaced by a determined one but she didn't speak for a long time. He was already feeling drowsy, his eyes neary closing when the lady grabbed his wrist, starting him back to sense.
"Repeat their names in your head. Tell the name aloud to yourself every night before you sleep and every morning after you are awake. Repeat their names when you are in pain, repeat their names when you are the happiest. Keep repeating and never forget. Their names, the pain you are currenty feeling, never forget." *21
"Why?" He croaked, barely.
"One day you will understand Why."
It was the last thing he could hear before sleep overtook him.
Present day
An animalistic growl vibrated through the manor, followed by more shattering of glasses. The children of Nature looked at each other and shuddered, praying whoever comes across this storm makes it through the other side.
*12- IPO- Initial Public Offering of shares of a company in the share market for the first time.
*13- Baangal - A regional variety of Bengali. There are some funny stories about Baangal and Ghoti, two seperate classes of bengalise divided by the Ganga river, I think. Senior people who lived in 70/80s might know more.
*14- Tirtha- Visiting a religious place, like Kashi or Banaras.
*15- Khoma koris- Fogive me. *16- Bhul bolchi naki?- Did I say something wrong?
*17/ 20 - A song from the show 'About a Boy'. Comedy show, has only two seasons. My shameless way of fangirling.
*18- I hope it's the correct form? You too Brutus? from Julius Ceaser, by Shakespeare
*19- Adaab- The salute style/form of adress to someone whom you met among muslim people.
*21- Arya Stark repeats her enemies name in Game of Thrones. Not sure if it happens in A Song of Ice and Fire books or just the TV series. I am Targaryen with immense respect for Tyrion Lannister, in case anyone is wondering.
For PM like this post or buddy Divine Darkness.
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