Thanks to two of my readers who gave me the power to choose what to do, it's a separate chapter now (just so my readers don't have super lengthy parts to read at once :') ) I hope this is still a worth-while update!

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Nandini

From the bottom cabinet, I drew out a heavy vessel with a crater-shaped cavity.

Ammamma's ancestral mortar and pestle held with it several loving memories of our childhood in this city, where she would make spice pastes from scratch to use in sambars and rasams; she even made homemade chutneys with them. While squatting, I hugged it trying to feel some of her warmth I tenderly missed as I held one of her most priced possessions – not by wealth but in nostalgia.

Thanks to Aiyappa, Amma, and Appa who brought it with them to gift it to me and our flat.  

In using my Ammamma's equipment, I felt a sense of transferring several generations' worth of love and comfort down to a simple heartwarming drink – chai. Rishu loved chai, just like the parents we lost did. Whole spices were grouped into the centre and as I hammered it, a warm woody fragrance wafted from the oils inside the cinnamon ginger, and cardamom, enriching the air around me with the soothing smell. I dropped the crushed bits, stirred the simmering pot of milk with a ladle, and turned up the flame while inhaling the aromatic sweetness of the brew.

"Akka, make tea later, you gotta watch this and tell Mukti Di to make this!" Through the arch in the kitchen, I saw Rishabh seated on the cane couch salivating at the potato swirl sauced along the sides in a vlog touring Bangalore's famous eatery spots. I almost chuckled at the delightful sight while my heart tugged at the beautiful memory of Amma trying her amazing (read: experimental) chef skills on him and feeding him okra pasta, maggie parantha, and egg pongal to name a few quirky dishes.

We were middle-class and growing up with our Chikkappa, whom I now call Appa, meant we were conditioned from a very young age to be extremely careful with money. Eating outside food had been rare... a monthly thing when Amma was on the first day of her period. Ah, how much they loved each other... Before I let that feeling broil any further, the milk frothed to the top of the pot. I lowered the flame, taming and clearing those destructive thoughts as the brew curbed and finally, I plopped some loose black tea into it, reigniting the stove to a higher degree.

"Your Mukti Di is a great cook alright, but your Nandu Akka can easily buy this for you!" I set the spoon to a side and turned crossing my arms with a badgering grin. Having consistently eaten home-cooked food on the regular, it was possible it had slipped Rishu's mind that I was an earning woman who could afford to buy him the snack he wanted. Actually, anything he wanted. I could do anything he wanted.

Rishabh wrung his head, pulling his legs into a cross-legged position as he sought me with the perfect blend of sheer surprise and unbounded appreciation, "Really?" I nodded in pure delight. As if making up his mind on the compromise, he side-eyed me before putting forth a very respectful and humbling request. "Okay, but you have to promise me you'll undo your bun, it makes you look so old!"

I felt the back of my head, unaware of the bun I habitually tied each time I stepped into the kitchen, a lesson ingrained from the start as Ammamma's catering staff had to do the same before commencing their shifts. "I'll leave my hair free and flowing like a ghost, so every time the wind blows, I can become Samara from The Ring, is that better?"

Rishabh was beyond terrified of that movie he once was peer-pressured into watching along with Abhi and his friends from SPACE. While my tone until then had been laced with derided amusement, the reminiscence surrounding that horror movie night was... "NO no no... not her!" His hands flew to his eyes as if the girl was about to squirm out of the well and capture him through the TV. He peeked through his fingers once he realised the movie was just in his head, and caught me giggling to myself.

With a bored expression, he impatiently waited for the so-called joy to cease. "Maybe a more beautiful version of her!" He implored and quickly added "I'm just joking, Akka!" as he saw a warm ladle raised in a warning. "When and how do we get there? The traffic must be terrible!"

"Once Mukti is out of the shower, we can go in the Metro... you've never been on the Bangalore metro!" He shook his head. As much as Mumbai had its own local trains, I found much pleasure in flexing our newly launched train service that took several years if not longer to finally be sanctioned into functioning services. Wiping my hands on a hand towel, I emerged from the kitchen. "We'll ask Abhi to come there directly from college and..." A phone began ringing on the dining table. Mukti's phone.

An unknown number.

I picked the call up, cheery from my earlier conversation with my younger brother but before I could send a greeting, a voice sparked into the line.

"Mukti, it's me!" I stilled at the eerie familiarity of the voice, almost certain that had Mukti picked up the phone, the conversation would have abruptly ended right then and there. Her stern tone wavered and I wasn't sure if I was dreaming or if I heard an aching sigh transpire. I clutched the device with both hands, pressing it further into my ear. "I didn't think you would pick my call. I was – I wanted to... ummm... so there's something – I wanted to talk to you about something."

Nyonika Ma'am ruled the school back when I was studying at SPACE Academy. The principal she was, boldly sending commands and standing her ground so confidently that even a lion would cower beside her. To hear such a terrifying woman stammering had nearly launched me into a different universe. Definitely a first in the many years I'd known her reputation to be like. 

To stop the awkward silence from extending further, I took a breath and forced a smile. "Hi, sorry, Mukti's having a bath."

"Oh okay... thank you darling!" Darling. She had not even called her own daughter that. Suddenly, the mere sound that I had been almost neutral towards had been venomous to my ears and I had wanted nothing more than to cut the call right there... thanking my Aiyappa that Mukti had been blissfully spared of the pain of talking to the cold-blooded woman. Her next remark stunned me. "Can you... actually don't, she won't ring me back." Grief-stricken by a chilling blade that stabbed the abandoned child in me, I gravely empathised with the maternal figure who was just as exasperated from the soul-numbing separation. The scab of a wound I thought I had let time automatically heal was stripped raw by the gut-wrenching hollowness in her life. "Would it be possible for you to put forth a request on my behalf?"

It was incredibly difficult to keep the tears at bay, and seeking an escape from alarming my little brother with my unexpected breakdown, I snuck into my room – the room I shared with Mukti. "I'm not sure I –" I stood with my back to the door.

"Please, darling?" My wobbling lip ran to the confines of my teeth to keep it from shaking. "I'll take your silence as a yes? Can you let her know that her school, SPACE Academy, is celebrating its tenth birthday in the upcoming month? On the joyous occasion, the school principal wants to invite her to perform for the orientation programme!" I shook my head out of impulse, feeling miserable at the burdening request.

It was unfortunate that I didn't know much about what went down with Nyonika Ma'am and Mukti... or her equation with her father either. All I knew was that the girl bravely left everything she knew behind and moved cities to be by my side, without asking a single question or requesting an explanation. The least I could do for her was to not remind her of anything from her past. Or the people from it. 

Sternly, I uttered with newfound courage while pacing to my bed, "She quit making music years ago, ma'am."

"Ma – oh..." The long pause fell into a void but I waited on my bed... And so did she. Then she resumed, "Would it be possible for you to try and convince her, honey?"

The kind loving words that were symbolic of a mother's tender love for her children felt like snarky taunts to me, pricking at that side of me that craved such warmth from my biological parents too. A love I could never again possess. Much like...

But for Mukti, music was everything. It brought her immense peace, marvellous joy and incredible satisfaction to play her electric guitar. One that had been neglected in a cupboard in Abhimanyu's room for years. If anything, she deserved to wholeheartedly embrace that side of her again, and finally allow herself to feel happy. It was her chance, and I wanted nothing more than for her to mend her attachment (or lack thereof) to her favourite musical instrument again.

"I'll see what I can do," I spoke even before I gave it a second thought, and quickly sprung to my feet at the stupid decision I had yet again taken.

Another deeply relieved breath came through the line, and a part of me felt accomplished for giving Nyonika Ma'am what she wanted. "Thank you so much darling!" I was unsure of what to comment in order to conclude the conversation so I stayed mum, slowly walking back to the door. And as if the silence had been absolutely maddening for Ma'am to stand, she added, "On behalf of my school, I would love to extend a special invite for you to come along with her, I would love to meet you! A five star hotel for two nights, all food and drinks completely paid for and..."

I shook my head to myself, well aware of why the offer had been advanced my way. In return for what I was going to do for her. Give and take, wasn't that what he said about her?

Pressing my temples at the dull ache that had been snowballing since I began speaking to her, I politely said against the door, "Thanks but I... I won't be able to make it to Mumbai."

"I'll send you your flight tickets, where are you based?" While I was almost about to answer her, a breath hitched in my throat at a sudden realisation that perhaps the reason she had been calling... or had asked the question... had been merely to retrieve Mukti's whereabouts.

Perhaps to reunite her with...

"Nandini..." His treacherous voice froze me in my spot, my jaw too immobile to utter a word, forget moving a muscle, as tears washed the lingering ache down my face. I closed my eyes to prevent myself from coming face to face with him, only to still see him in the depths of darkness too. Nyonika Ma'am was saying something incoherent on the line as I slipped to the floor, drawing my knees to my chest and clutching myself desperately to support me, holding in the uncontrollable break in my voice from being audible to her.

A door clicked open in the adjacent room, and my eyes flung open from the fear of being spotted. "So I was thinking of ordering us some Chinese..." came Mukti's voice, distancing from our room. 

As if regaining a sudden sense of utter clarity, I hurriedly murmured through a muffled cry, "I... I have to go," and promptly hung up. "Rishu, where's your sister? And what's on the stove?" 

"She was taking a phone call some time back..."

"Nandini?" She knocked once, and then twice again more aggressively. "Nandini, are you okay?" The doorknob impatiently twisted and I stumbled to my feet, vigorously wiping away any traces of sorrow. 

"I – I'm just..." Phew... breathe, Nandini... breathe. "I'm getting ready... Rishu wants to go to Eat Street." I sniffed into my handkerchief, and opened my wardrobe, its creak resonating in the room.

"Oh. Oh." Mukti palmed the door, resting her head on it with a huge worry off her chest. "I was scared because... your chai... oh thank goodness!"

The tea. The tea I was making for my brother. The tea that was supposed to have generations of warmth and love passed onto it from the drink alone.

And I had scorched that too.

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The much-awaited MaNan meet is super super near! All the tangential lines are being set back in motion. I think now it makes some sense why I wanted this to be a continuation of the previous chapter :P