*Four days ago*

"Jai Shree Ram!"

Bhairavi's voice was barely a whisper, yet it echoed within the four walls of her pooja room. With her left hand, she pulled out the secret compartment strategically hidden under her white marble Pooja platform while her right hand grabbed the incense stick before lighting it with a match and placing it in its stand.

A mild fragrance of freshly bloomed lotus engulfed her as she joined her hands in prayer.

"Bhagwanta, thank you for guiding Maithili. Without your blessings, she wouldn't have reached where she is now." A soft sob left her chest. "Still, my heart feels heavy. Why can't the college admins give her a proper break, ha!? I mean, she deserves it, doesn't she? Being a second-year medical student is hard, right?"

Bhairavi shook her head. A louder sob escaped her this time. Wiping her tears, the woman smiled. Adoration, above all, shone through her almond-shaped ebony pools as she glanced at the garland-clad seven-by-four-inch photo frame. In the center was a man, the best of all, according to her: Lord Shree Rama. He stood with his beautiful wife, Sita, on the right and a dashing young man, his brother, Laxman, on the left. A fourth figure, a humanoid male with features that looked borrowed from a monkey, was crouching at Lord Shree Rama's feet with hands folded in devotion. The only commonality between the four was the brilliantly gleaming golden crowns on their heads and vermilion and saffron attires.

"I can't believe she agreed to go on a trip with me instead of her friends!" The woman chirped. A Cheshire-cat-like smile tugged at her lips. "We are going to have so much fun." She beamed. "Can you imagine, I won them in a lucky draw!? An all-expenses paid trip to an exotic valley in Kashmir!"

Bhairavi felt beyond lucky. A month ago, her daughter had announced that her professors had decided to shorten their mid-summer break by a week, which left her with a week's worth of vacation. It had been ages since the mother and daughter had spent time together. The cracks in their once-smooth relationship concerned Bhairavi. Thus, she had pleaded with the latter to go on a trip with her instead of her friends. To her utter surprise, her daughter had agreed, but with one condition.

"Bhagwanta, please watch over us, alright? The organizers haven't planned a single temple visit during this whole trip. I can't believe that brat sometimes." The woman's face turned grumpy all of a sudden. "I don't understand why she had to keep this silly condition. I mean, did she have to be so specific? Do you know what she said?" She raised her voice by an octave or two and continued, "'Amma, anywhere, I will go with you anywhere as long as you don't drag me to any temples, capiche?'" Then back to her usual self, she added with a huff, "She has turned out like this thanks to her dad!"

A knock on the door made Bhairavi turn. "How long have you been standing there, my dear?" She asked. Guilty. So so guilty!

"Oh, I see. You have already ratted me out to 'your Bhagwanta.'" The man stressed the last two words for good measure and rolled his eyes before bringing his hands together in prayer and bowing to the photo frame without entering the sacred place.

Col. Ashutosh Chopra had always felt like a third wheel in their relationship every time he caught his wife of twenty years chit-chatting with her beloved Lord Rama. The army man sometimes seriously doubted if she would have married him if she could marry Lord Rama instead. Yet, he couldn't help but smile at the beautiful relationship the two: the Lord and his devotee, shared. His mother prayed too, but never like this. Theirs was a bond deeper than devotion between a mortal and a God.

The two had met almost twenty-two years ago. A fresh graduate from AFMC (Armed forces Medical College) at that time, Ashutosh's first posting was in Jammu. Here, the young medical officer had seen...no, heard Bhairavi for the first time and fell in love with her voice even before laying eyes on her. A Brigadier's only daughter, he still reminisced how she had mesmerized the crowd singing a Bhajan on stage while playing sitar at his unit's Diwali function.

"Hey!" Bhairavi's temple-bell-like crystal clear voice snapped him out of his musings. "You okay?" She enquired, concern etched all over her slightly plump countenance.

"I wish I could tag along with you guys." The man sighed; he brought their foreheads together, "I will miss you." He said it like he meant it. And he did. He truly did. Ashutosh had never once regretted marrying Bhairavi. She was his prize, and he cherished her with all his heart. The only one he loved a smidgen more than her was their daughter, Maithili, or as they called her affectionately: Mia.

"Well, I will be too busy to miss you." Bhairavi lied. She was a terrible liar.

"Your eyes are telling me otherwise, sweetheart." Ashutosh teased. However, catching his love's impatient gaze, he leaned away. Sighing, he crossed his arms over his chest. "Fine. Let's have them. The instructions."

"You are making me sound like a dictator!" Bhairavi cribbed, earning a chuckle from her amused-looking husband.

"That's because when it comes to instructions and perfection, you take after your Appa!" He replied, reigning in his laughter lest it angers her. "Anyway, jokes aside, you will only be gone for five days. I am a grown man. Trust me. I can take care of myself. I am growing old, but my memory is still A+."

"Got it, Colonel." The woman dressed in a bright yellow cotton sari raised her hands in surrender. "Breakfast will be served at 7.10 am sharp, Sir." Saluting, she added in all sincerity, before dropping the act and patting her husband's shoulder lovingly, "Can you complete your rounds early? I know your patients are eagerly waiting to see you, but I won't see you for more than half a week, and that's half a week too much for me."

The man nodded curtly and watched his queen turn on her heel and walk away- her long, thick braid moving like a serpent dancing to the tune of a snake charmer with every gentle sway of her hips- till she disappeared into the kitchen.

He conveniently missed his daughter's tantrums about why-she-needed-to-wake-up-at-7 am and have-breakfast-at-7.10 even on her days off. As always, he returned at sharp 6.55 am, and was at the table by sharp 7.10 am.

As minutes ticked by, his anxiety grew. It was not without reason. Since Mia had entered her teens, her relationship with her mother had become a little volatile. The mother and daughter shared a very passionate relationship in every way, which meant that both loved and (at times) hated each other voraciously.

Luckily for Ashutosh, he had learned very early on not to butt into their business. This tactic had served him well for almost half a decade. He was not a soldier at home. Nor was he expected to heal the wounds the women in his life inflicted on each other. He was a bystander whose only duty was to offer his shoulder to whichever party needed it to lean on.

Twenty minutes later, Bhairavi, looking flustered, and Mia, positively grouchy, joined the only man in the house for breakfast.

In silence, Bhairavi busied herself serving breakfast: Aloo Partha (potato stuffed bread) and homemade fresh curd, and Mia pulled out her phone and stared at it with pursed lips.

Ashutosh silently braced himself for the tornado that had a high chance of hitting him this morning. He looked out the window at the dark clouds gathering over a patch just above their government-allocated quarters. He gulped thickly and directed his heart-melting, peace-summoning smile at his daughter, accompanied by a cheerful greeting, "Good morning, Mia!"

The girl's bright hazel eyes, so like her father, snapped up. A look of embarrassment tinted her cheeks scarlet, "Good morning, dad." she replied, averting her eyes.

Ashutosh almost had a win on his hands. Almost. However, that was not to be as Bhairavi rolled her eyes and clenched her jaw at the word: Dad, as it fell from her daughter's lips.

"Good morning, Appa." The girl corrected herself instantly and snapped under her breath: Damn it, Amma, 'Dad' doesn't sound like Dead. Alright!

Trying to change the hostile environment into a not-so-hostile one, Ashutosh asked, "Soooo, how excited are you for the trip?"

As two pairs of eyes fixed him with hard stares, the soldier immediately realized: he had messed up.

What the unsuspecting father didn't know though, was that those were possibly the worst words he could have chosen to utter that morning. To put it metaphorically, not only had he disturbed the hornet's nest by poking it with a stick, but he was also standing right under it in a spot that offered him no place to hide.

Word Count: 1543
Word Count so far: 2259

First milestone reached!