・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・

He sat in the darkness, stretched out on the bed, with a light blanket over his legs, fatigue seeping into his bones as he thought over what had happened earlier in the day. Rache seemed to share his master's restless for though he lay at Sanskaar's feet, his ears kept twitching, as though he too was anticipating the visitor. Sanskaar wondered how long it would take Ragini to come over, he knew that as far as Swara was concerned, Ragini spared none; meeting her would be only possible good outcome of Swara's stupidity. He held no grudge against either of the sisters but he needed answers from Ragini; her words at the hospital, he could and did forgive, 'heck, if their places had been switched, and Laksh had died in an accident where Ragini was driving, he would have strangled her in his grief and anger.' 

He understood her grief and anger though he was dismayed and hurt by her silence for all these years, a part of him had expected her presence and he had waited for her to come to them once she learnt of his condition.

It hurt too that she, who had been such a great friend, had never tried to meet him after that day. He could not understand what kept her away, but disappointment often gnawed at him though he had never let Laksh and Siddharth know how much her absence had angered him. Laksh had never let him know what had happened between him and Ragini, yet it was apparent that he was still angry with her while Siddharth had been disappointed that Ragini had not attended his wedding; it would have only aggravated the distance. However, tonight he intended to get his answers, and he hoped she had a good excuse; it would help the others forgive her faster. For he had forgiven her, they had to be together if SNLRS was to be salvaged.

・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・

Almost from her early childhood, Ragini knew that she was not much loved in her house; her Dadi had made it very clear that her being a daughter did not deserve much in way of attention and affection, and she should be grateful that she was at least being housed, clothed and fed. Her father, who could never oppose his mother and her mother, who would not oppose her father, never dared to openly love her. The only exception was her grandfather, but even all the love he showered was not enough to make up for the lack of display of parental affection. She knew that they loved her but missed seeing it on their faces.

She had found a home in Ram uncle's house, who loved kids and despite his wife passing away when Sanskaar had been born, managed to make his son feel loved and cherished and extended the same affection to Laksh. It was Ram uncle's seemingly infinite capacity to love and understand children that had made Sanskaar's house the favourite haunt for all of them. And Anupurna Aggarwal, Ram's widowed sister, who was universally called as Anu Ma and who stayed with Ram along with her daughter, Meghna, provided them with motherly warmth. Though it also could be debated that it was her cooking that bound them together; Anu Ma was a talented cook, one who surprisingly had not set any boundaries to her culinary adventures and hence could whip up cakes and pasta with as much ease as she flipped the thick tasty aloo parathas or tossed fluffy pancakes. The open kitchen, leading to the small private dining area, was the place where all of them could be found, sure to find a listening ear and a plate of tasty food, at any time of the day or night.

The printing press of her grandfather's was her other safe haven and refuge, for she could not always slip over to her friend's house, not with her father hating them. Ragini loved the smell of inks and paper, the click of the types as they were set in place in the press bed and the rhythmic clanking of the machine as the plate transferred the ink to the paper. As a young child, she would play with the broken discarded types and use them to design her imagined news articles. She had grown up with those dreams and it had come as no surprise that her grandfather had gifted her that press as her twenty first birthday gift.

However, today, even the press could not soothe her, the clanking irritated her and the smell of the inks, once loved now seemed to be nauseating; anger at what Swara had let slip would not let her rest and she knew that she would have to meet Sanskaar. It was not an easy decision, shame filled her as she recalled the harsh words she had uttered when she had last seen him; time and distance had not dulled the acidity of her words but then her sister was priority and she would have to meet them.

・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・

Kabir sat in silence beside his father, as he fisted and opened his palms, in a bid to maintain some calm, and finally he spit it out, "I hate the Maheshwari men, I hate them."

"That is a very strong word and a misplaced emotion too."

Kabir gritted his teeth, "You are not blind to the truth, Dad, however hard you try to ignore it. I know the truth."

His father said nothing, instead his waited for his son to expound his statement and after fidgeting for a few more minutes, Kabir blurted out, "How can you forgive Mom, how can you forget what she did, Dad? How can you pretend everything is fine and go on living with her, as though nothing happened?"

Karan Kapoor could make out what Kabir was trying to say but was bewildered as to what exactly caused that disapproval. However, he knew that he could no longer avoid the topic, so instead of replying outright, he flung an arm round his son and asked, "How exactly did you know?"

Kabir turned to look at the man who would always be his father, nothing would change it for him, "Do you remember, Mom would sometimes take me with her when she went to Ram uncle's house, to check up on Anu Maa? I chanced on a few photographs of Sanskaar and Ram uncle, I guess it was when Sanskaar won a match or something and you could see how proud his father was in that photograph. I wanted a photograph like that for us. And do you remember how many different types of photographs I insisted had to be taken of the two of us?"

Karan remembered, for those photography sessions had continued over quite a number of months and Kabir was never satisfied with how they came out; now he could guess why. Kabir continued in a soft voice, guilt lacing his words, "It is not that I could not see the pride you had for me and I love you a lot, still do, but then I wanted a photograph that would be better than theirs, it was like I had to show we were a better father and son duo. And as I went through those photographs a countless times and compared it with theirs, I saw resemblances that I wish I never saw."

Holding his father's gaze, Kabir confessed, "I can never love you enough, Dad, however much I do, it would be short of what you deserve; you are my father, my inspiration, my idol and...I can never forgive Mom for cheating on you."

・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・

Sanskaar's place looked different, but she had no problem recognising it, even if it had been a decade ago, she did remember the hours they spent in planning their houses; the old rambling mansion owned by Sanskaar's family was to be demolished and four individual detached duplex houses to be constructed. She parked her car near the entrance gate to the compound, and felt the first stirrings of regret. She had stayed away from them and their dreams, while they had worked towards it, the proof was in front of her, four houses; three of them, identical in all respects, one each in the corners of the imaginary triangle and the centre one, a slightly larger house which was to serve as a home for Anu Maa, Ram uncle and also consisted of the indoor playroom, swimming pool and a large family room, a common place for all of them. She did not need anyone to tell her know which one belonged to Sanskaar, though she hesitated when Meghna answered the bell. There was a minute of awkward silence before Meghna stepped aside and Ragini stepped in, "He is upstairs, right?"

"Second room to the left of the stairs."

Ragini acknowledged it with a nod and said, "Give me five minutes before you call the cavalry though I only promise not to kill him."

She stalked off, dismissing Meghna's words as her imagination, "you cannot hurt him more than he already is."

Ragini pushed open the door at the same time that Sanskaar, warned by Rache, flicked on the light switch. For a few minutes, the estranged friends stared at each other, each waiting for the other to start. Ragini looked around, noting the sparse clean lines of the room, a sitting area to her immediate right, a wide door straight ahead, which apparently led to the attached bath, the French windows on her left would lead to the wide balcony and then the bed opposite the French windows with another large padded chair between the wall and the bed. She found it disconcerting the Sanskaar still stayed in bed, but held her silence, wondering when he had gotten the dog that lay at his feet, with its ears perked up.

"So finally you grace us with your presence. Took you long enough."

Ragini took a couple of steps inside and her shoulders slumped at his words, "I am sorry Sanskaar, I was so angry when Niki die.., it was wrong of me and believe me, there is not a minute that I regret those words. I know that saying sorry is not enough but I am not sure what else I could do."

"Please, I really do not care about what you said that day, though I can admit you were right. I am responsible for Niki dying. And unlike you, I can state the fact too."

Ragini cringed, the anger in his voice belying his denial but she would not, rather could not back off, "I cannot take back what I said and I agree that it is unforgivable, but was it necessary to drag Swara into all of this? Your resentment is with me, why punish her? The kid is convinced she is half in love with you."

"Are you accusing me of seducing Swara?"

She ignored the hardness in his tone, ire filling her as her voice rose a notch, "Not exactly, but everyone knows how charming you can be when you want, you can charm anyone and Swara is a kid who has read too many romance novels."

Anger rushed through him, he had not wanted an apology, had only looked for an excuse but the accusation was too much for him to take. He swore, "I really admire your temerity, eight years of silence, not a single word despite what happened to me and today you waltz in only to accuse me. You are worse than Swara; at least she is only a kid who has fanciful notions."

Even as he spoke, he reached out for the bed remote, pressed the button to lower the bed, not bothering that the bed sank with a sudden thud. He heard her gasp and thought, 'well, one advantage of being crippled as I am, is that one does not feel', and continued, "I know that Niki was your best friend but then we were friends also, good friends, if I may add. So despite your grief over her death, I think I could have done with a little support. But no,—"

Ignoring the pull in his shoulders caused by the sudden dropping of the bed, he threw himself on to the wheelchair, and rolled round the corner of the bed, towards the door, with far greater speed than he intended, "—you had to stay away from all of us. And I would love to hear of the reasons you had, at least a simple excuse" —.

It was the look of pure horror on her face that forced him to brake the wheel chair a couple of steps away from her, grasping the handles hard to ensure that he did not topple out. And when she collapsed to the floor with her palms clamped to her mouth, to stop the scream that must be fighting to be let out, understanding flooded him and the words died on his tongue. He squeezed his eyes closed and cursed under his breath as he realised that Ragini did not have to give any excuse to give; it was only shame that kept her away. 

Abject shame for what she had spoken and complete ignorance of what had happened to him.

He opened his eyes, looked at her as she sat, still frozen on the floor, and then looked up at Laksh and Siddharth who had skidded to a halt at the door. Without turning his gaze away from them, he whispered, "You never knew, did you, Ragini?"

・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・

Swara fiddled with her mobile, wanting to call either Kabir or her sister, but could not, she was not sure what she would say. She had exhausted her tears and had no idea how to set right the mess she had created. A part of her wanted to talk to her sister and a part of her wanted to curl up and sleep till Ragini found her. But when she heard a knock on her door and saw her father, she almost cried again.

Shekhar walked in, worry writ on his face and sat beside her on the bed; Swara leaned in and rested her head on his shoulder, waiting for him to put an arm round her and pull her close. When he did that, she cuddled in his embrace, soaking in the warmth and security; 'it did not matter whatever went wrong with the world or her life,' she thought, 'her father was always there for her.' Five minutes after, she pulled free and smiled, "Thanks, Baba. I am much better now."

The bag her father was carrying caught her attention, "What is that, Baba?"

"Oh this? Nothing special, I was just cleaning up my files and stuff when I came across it. I thought you would like to see it, so I got it with me," he pulled out an album and opened it, "it has photographs from your fifth birthday party, in fact the only one you had."

Swara squeezed her father's hand, her heart twisting at the wistfulness in his tone, "Baba, it is not your fault that I did not have birthday parties. And what are parties, but cake and my favourite things to eat, surrounded by the people whom I love and who love me? Going by that definition, almost every day is a birthday party, okay, at least those days when there is cake."

When her father smiled, she grinned, "Now let us look at the album, together."

She pulled it over to her lap, ignoring the slight hesitation that Shekhar seemed to have in letting it go and started to turn over the pages, each picture filled her with joy and she laughed when her father pointed to one large photograph and murmured, "my fairy princess."

"Please Baba, despite that frilly and lacy pink frock and the tiara and ribbons, nothing can make me a princess, not when I have cake all over me."

"You are always my princess."

Swara looked into her father's eyes, confused at the apology she saw in them; mistaking it for remorse that she never had many birthday parties, she patted her father's cheek and said, "I never missed not having parties, so stop feeling guilty and do not make me cry, I want to look at the rest of the pictures. I wonder what is the next one, I hope it is one of me and Di..."

She froze, the next picture stole the breath from her lungs; it was a large one, covering the entire page of the album and despite it being from a day, eighteen years ago, there was no mistaking the faces.

・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・

"Ragini, I never thought that I would be saying it, and I mean it now, I am glad that Niki died when she did. You see, I am sure one of us had to die, and if I had then it would mean that Niki would be alive like this, in this state, a condition I would not wish even on my worst enemy. There is not a day I am grateful that she was the one to die and not me."

She did not say a word, it appeared that she was still processing what she had seen and learnt; he was not sure if she had heard anything he had been saying for the past fifteen minutes. Maybe she had heard, maybe not, but there had been no reaction, she was still slumped in the sofa, wringing her hands. Sanskaar sighed, this was not the way Ragini had to learn about him, he would really have to talk to Laksh and Siddharth. In all the possibilities he had drawn out as to why Ragini had not met him, the one that Ragini did not know about him had never been thought about. And since her name had become a sort of taboo, they had never even spoken about her, though he was sure each of them would have thought of her, all these years. He was not even sure how to start, let alone think up anything adequate to say, not with her sitting in front of them, shock still evident on her blanched face. And neither Laksh with his stony face and refusal to look at her nor Siddharth with a stricken expression were of any help either.

Ragini heard Sanskaar speak though she could not make out the words, all she could think was how unpardonable she must have been to not be told about Sanskaar and was still trying to understand when they heard the sound of shuffling feet. Ragini slowly turned to see who entered and when she saw Meghna holding a small girl in her arms, her eyes widened. She did not need anyone to tell who that child was, even if the child was not a splitting image of Nikita, she would have known her to be Meghna and Siddharth's daughter. They had known about Meghna being in love with Siddharth and Niki always had been sure that her brother would never realise unless he was hit on his head.

Whirling back towards them, she asked, pain making her sound hoarse, "What else have you kept hidden from me? I could never forgive myself for all that I said that day, but I hoped you might. I guess you could not, there had to be no other reason why you never shared either your happiness or sorrow with me."

She stopped, she was not going to cry or whine, though she wanted to, if that was the punishment they gave her, she would take it. Having made up her mind she was about to get up when she felt a hand on her head and heard Anu Maa, "It is not their fault, it is mine. I am the reason why you were never told about Siddharth and Meghna."

・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・

Dr Karan Kapoor looked at Kabir; a familiar pride filling him as he saw his son, it did not matter who his biological father was, Karan would always be his father. "Your mother did not betray anyone, neither you nor me. I knew about it even before I married her and—"

"Dad, you do not have to lie to cover up, I know you love mom but then it is a fact, I know when I was born and the maths does not lie"

"—you think you know the facts. Listen to me, tonight is the first and last time we are going to talk about this.

I knew your mother much before we got married, not very well, more like those regular casual acquaintances, for we often met during the medical conferences. It was at one such conference that we decided to get married.

I knew something was different the moment I saw her, she was paler than usual and was quiet, not her usual friendly self. I could not let it go and was persuasive enough; I got her so upset that she blurted out the truth. I was the one who almost forced her to marry me, and it is not because I was being honourable. I liked Vidya a lot and when she let me know that there was no way she would let the father know about you, I jumped at the chance of marrying her. She took a lot of convincing but in the end she gave in.

We knew that even when married, a baby born within seven to eight months would start speculation and we did not want it, so we planned it out. Your mother gave birth to you in small town where nobody knew us and we did not register your birth. We registered your birth only after you crossed three years but we mentioned you as two and a half years old; both of us were respected doctors, so nobody bothered to properly verify it. That is why your date of birth is almost a month after our wedding anniversary; it ensured that nobody, especially Ram, could ever suspect you of not being our son.

And before you ask anything else, I want to make it clear, I do not know what happened between Ram and your mother, all I know that he never knew of you and I wish things to stay exactly that way. I am your father, she is your mother and you will always be our son. So not another word against either your mother or Sanskaar, neither deserves your hatred or ire. Am I clear?"

Kabir stared at his father and nodded, a huge weight lifted off his chest. He would still have to work on his ire with Sanskaar but he would set right the things with his mother as soon as he could.

・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・

Annapurna sat down beside Ragini, took her hand in hers and said, "When I finally agreed to let them get married, I knew that all of us wanted you to be there. It did not matter what happened in the hospital, you never meant it anyway. But they were hesitant, more like guilty and ashamed and I decided that I would be the one to tell you. The mistake I made was to go to your house instead of trying to meet you at your office."

Ragini squeezed Anu Maa's hand, "You met my father instead."

When Annapurna did not answer, Ragini continued, "Let me guess, he must have used the choicest abuses, in the politest manner possible. And since you are who you are, you must not have said a single word. Was my mother also there?"

Anu Maa wiped away a tear that had slid down, she had never known that Shekhar's hatred for her brother ran that deep and that his contempt could be malicious. His words had hurt but she had resolved never to let anybody know about that incident. She looked at Ragini and said, "I should have taken your number from Meghna and called you but I was too shaken to do so. I could never tell them what happened that day, I did not want any arguments or a fight, so when they asked if you had been informed, I lied.  I had left the wedding invitation at your house, so I just said yes. In spite of that, I hoped that someway you would learn about it, and..."

"My father never does certain things by half, especially when it come to my friends. I never saw the card and he would have ensured that I never even heard of the wedding, I am sure those urgent outstation trips were also arranged so that I would not even be in town during that week."

Any further conversation ceased when Meghna came forward, held out her daughter to Ragini and whispered, "This is Neha, short for Niharika, named after Nikita and you. But you know that, right? "

Ragini gathered little Neha into her arms in a daze. But when she felt that small girl snuggle closer, she gave a wan smile and buried her face into the little one's shoulder. She was not sure if she had been forgiven, but it felt like exactly that.

・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・

Swara's breath hitched, it was like a thousand tiny daggers in her lungs as she struggled to breathe. Her eyes were closed but the image was clear, eighteen years ago, she was five years old, so that would mean that they were around seventeen or eighteen years old. She opened her eyes, hoping she had made a mistake, but then the pictures did not lie.

The photograph was faded a bit yet the faces were clear as they stood in a row behind her; laughter in their eyes and happiness on their faces, arms around each others' waists; in the order that SNLRS stood for. Sanskaar. Nikita. Laksh. Ragini. Siddharth. As she took in the faces, Swara went numb, she had no tears to shed, no strength to think and no energy to say a word.

All she felt was the sharp pang of betrayal, a betrayal so cutting that she could not think straight. She also never thought long enough to realise that irrespective of what she felt, what she would do next, was a betrayal in the truest sense.

And that is a long confrontation, or rather confrontations, of ideas and forces, comparison of past and present, a clash of emotions and thoughts. It is also a long winding narrative, almost 4400 words and I should apologise for it. If however, you, my dear reader has managed to read it fully to the end, a hug for you. And could you let me know how you found it, good, bad or boring? And the most interesting thing, for me at least, what do you think would happen next? I would love to know about your ideas, so do let me know.

love,
Nyna