My parent's love story is straight out of a daily melodrama serial. They first met when my father visited the orphanage my mother lived, for some kind of an awards function he'd accompanied with his father, who was a prominent businessman, fell in love, overcame many many obstacles, married and had me.

It is a pretty beautiful story. However such wonderful scenes do not happen for a long time. Life strikes, and gives you a newly motherless dysfunctional father-daughter family who have their own secrets enclosed in a barbed wire wall.

"I have arranged for mother's photo to appear in the remembrance column for her birthday tomorrow." I said to my father, who was sipping coffee from a cup and reading the paper.

"Oh. Really? Why didn't you mention it before?" He asked, placing the cup side.

" I forgot. What difference does it make anyway?" I said, more sharply than I intended.

The things that he said and did were quite mind boggling to me. Who cared if I mentioned it or not? Shouldn't he ask about anything other than that?

Actually I just hadn't wanted to inform him.

Sure enough, the morning paper next day carried the black and white photo of my mother smiling sweetly into the camera. It was taken on her forty sixth birthday, and it had been a candid moment, that I'd taken with my camera. She had been so happy talking many hours about her birthdays spent in the orphanage. It was always evident that she'd missed living in the orphanage terribly. I stared at the photo for a few seconds before tears swelled up from my eyes. There had been only one person I wouldn't have hesitated to give up my life for, and she wasn't alive anymore.

I cut out the column after showing it to my father, who stared at it for a while. Perhaps he missed her too. I didn't ask anything, leaving it at that. It was around afternoon when I received a call.

"Is this Mrs Rekha's relative?" A male voice asked me.

"Yes. I am her daughter."

"Oh. I am very sorry. I knew about the news only when I saw the column today." He said.

"Its all right. May I ask you how you know her?" I asked him.

"We all lived in the same orphanage. My name is Shankar. And we were all friends, as well as siblings." He said, and there was a little touch of sadness evident in his tone.

"Oh! You were the one who frightened the cook with a cockroach!" I blurted, suddenly remembering one of those funny ridiculous stories of her childhood spent in the orphanage. He laughed breathily.

"Yes I was the one. I see, your mother has recounted her childhood days!"

"Yes. She did that very often." I said, and suddenly missed the warmth of her voice.

"Did she ever tell you about stealing food from the kitchen?"

"Hahaha. Yes, she did."

"And the song dance event?" He asked, clearly he was in a reminiscence of his own.

"Sorry which one?"

"That one with Geetha and her; where they forgot the lyrics so they began dancing instead?" He asked me.

"Huh? No sorry. I don't know of such a story." I said.

"Oh. Really? I suppose she must have forgotten. Or she should have said it, and you must have forgotten." He said, clearly holding disbelief that such an important memory was not of my knowledge.

"That must be it." I said.

"I can only imagine Geetha's grief when she must have heard your mother's death. They were so close, like real sisters, after all." He continued, ranting off into a really big consolation rant, however the only thing that I could hear was the name Geetha, who had apparently been my mother's friend at the orphanage.

"I am sorry. Who?"

"Geetha. Your mother's best friend." The man said, as though it was apparent.

"I've never heard of such a name or a person before." I confessed. The way this man was speaking, this Geetha and my mother were the closest of all close friends. So why hadn't she ever mentioned that name to me, or recount any story involving her? Perhaps they had some kind of a falling out?

"She...she must have forgotten." He said, probably guessing that there were still a lot of things left unsaid in our family, which was quite true. We were only playing house, and showing the side of us that others wanted to see.

The man enquired about my father and we spoke for a few more minutes. And with every passing moment, I wanted to know who this Geetha was, and why she hadn't bothered to check with her former best friend.

I reached the orphanage within an hour, for it was Sunday, and I had had an overwhelming sense of curiosity. The woman on the desk seemed quite new. I hadn't been to the orphanage in a long time.

"Why do you people keep ruining my Sunday?"She said to me, in a rude, upfront way. Clearly she didn't hear about customer relationships.

"My name is Anu. And that's my grandfather over there." I said, pointing towards my grandpa's portrait photograph in the wall line with the photographs of several other people who were freedom fighters. "He also built this building, and the park outside. Also probably funded the chair you are now sitting."

She grew still and her face showed signs of immediate regret. What she didn't know that our money had already dissipated and we were now a very ordinary middle class family. Yet, we got to be aggressive sometimes and milk -in our worth.

"I am so sorry. What brings you here?" She said in more politer terms, though her voice was inherently impolite. "I want some photographs of my mother from long ago. Probably from 85-87 time period." I said. Her nose scrunched from my horrible request, but she only nodded.

.

"Uh. Do you have any information on a certain person named Geetha?" I asked her while fluttering the pages of a really old manual.

"Who?"

"She lived here during the same time as my mother, and left during the same time too. Not many people are in touch with her now. She probably doesn't know about my mother's death. Apparently they were very close." I said.

"I...I'll look into it."

And that was how, I spent the rest of the afternoon reorganising the entire documents, even though I was only the visitor. It was as though the place pulled me in magically, for this had been my mother's home for a very long time. This ancient room with its ancient furniture had seen her happiest and saddest moments, her laughs, her shenanigans. This place had taken her in when her own had abandoned. Somehow it still had a part of her.

I couldn't find any new photos of my mother.Or of that person Geetha. Pictures were expensive those days, and this was an orphanage. Taking pictures weren't a priority.

"Hey, here. Look into this book. " She beckoned and pointed her finger towards the book she was holding.

Name: Geetha

Age: 21

Birthday: 31/1/1970

The page mentioned a few more details which didn't matter.

Because the most damning thing was her picture affixed to the side. I almost got a heartattack.

This lady was as familiar to me though she was no one. She was younger here, and her eyes were more prominent. But obviously, she wasn't one of those people who change completely with age.

She had looked similar in the picture with my dad.

She had looked just a little bit older at my mother's funeral. You could tell that she was the expressive type, seeing as to how widely she'd laughed in a simple black and white passport size photo.

I took a picture of the page with my phone. The address mentioned wasprobably obscure by this time and age.

My brain came up with the possible conclusions:

My father probably had an affair with a woman.

The lady had lived in the same orphanage as my mother.

They had apparently been 'best friends' for a long time.

I wanted to retch. What sort of person did that make my dad? Then it immediately struck me.

My mother had known.

Was that why she'd purposely omitted any story involving her and that woman? Because she didn't want to remember such a horrible treachery? Having your man stolen by your best friend is the ultimate bitch move.

Perhaps my parents' love life hadn't been much of a fairy tale.

I zoomed in onto the face, the familiarity making me eerily uncomfortable. It was as if my brain was looking for pieces which I didn't know. I called Shruthi.

"Hey, I am sorry for being rude earlier and saying that he was a creep." I said, with an apologetic tone, which was difficult.

"Um. I am sorry too. I shouldn't have told you off like that." She said.

"So...friends again?" I offered.

The delight was evident in her squeak and I immediately regretted any horrible thoughts I had had about her. Frankly speaking, she had been the pillar of support until she got that creep of a boyfriend, and changed entirely.

"I missed you so much. I am going to break up with him. So please don't leave me in the dark like this again. If you feel he's a creep, he's obviously a creep! What was I even thinking?" She ranted, and broke into a cry.

Arjun obviously had her in the palm of his hand. It wasn't entirely her fault. Also, sometimes, we've got to keep our foes close by.

"No, no please don't break up with him. I was thinking about this whole incident. I mean, I didn't even get to know him before I made those remarks. He's probably someone who doesn't express himself well. Why don't we all go jogging tomorrow morning and get to know each other better?" I said.

The smile in her face was almost imaginable."Yes, we'd love to! We will be there at 6 am. And you guys will be friends. I can guarantee it." She declared.

I laughed, her innocence spreading onto me. That Arjun didn't deserve her at all.

The next morning, I was the one who was late. The both of them were already at the park, waiting for me with jogging gear. Shruthi hugged me tightly. Arjun, as I had predicted, acted as if we hadn't met after the pizza outing.

"How do you do?" He asked me with a small nod.

Why was he here? Any man would have declined an invite to get to know the person who'd named him a creep. Perhaps Shruthi hadn't told him of our conversation when I told her I didn't like him. The more and more I thought about it, the more he didn't deserve Shruthi.

"Shruthi, I have a question." I asked, struggling to match up to their jogging.

"Yes, of course. What is it?" She beamed.

"One of my mom's friends is having her birthday. What should I get her?" I asked her.

"Really? What's her age? And when's her birthday?" She asked me.

"January 31st."

"Huh? But that's so far away!" She remarked.

But I already got my answer. The way that Arjun had suddenly flicked his head towards me with a shocked expression as soon as I mentioned the date had given an absolute answer.

I looked at him, with a smile that I couldn't contain due to the absurdity of everything and he smiled back.

I knew now. And he now knew that I did.

We were sweating profusely by the end of the course. I walked up to him and offered by kerchief.

"Need a kerchief, Arjun?"

He merely looked at me with an amused expression. "Why go through this elaborate plan to get my DNA? I'll just save you some money."

"How so?"

"I can confirm that your suspicions are right and I am 100 percent your brother. Or should I say 50 percent, since I am your half brother?"

It was quite suffocating to hear it even though the thoughts had crossed my mind a thousand times now.

"Thanks for saving my money."