The following is a short story penned by me as participation in Write India, a year long short story writing contest where popular authors set guidelines, and one writes and submits the story in accordance to it. You can check out about the contest here:
This story is submitted as part of the month which is judged by Preeti Shenoy, of 'Why We Love the Way We Do' fame. While you can find the general rules of the contest on the first link, you can click below to read the author's specific guidelines. And then read the story as well. Capisce?
Apart from the regular rules of the Write India campaign, Preeti Shenoy herself had set the following rules:
- Do not exceed the word limit.
- NO sms lingo please. Kindly type out the whole words.
- The story has to have Indian characters in a contemporary time. The setting can be any Indian city.
- The theme is relationships. You can make it drama/infidelity/romance—anything that you like.
- It has to be realistic—no fantasy please.
The passage given by Preeti has been highlighted in florescent. Hope you guys like what I made of the story in itself.
Aaradhana busied herself with cleaning the mahogany desk, trying to distract herself from what was worrying her. Thinking of Arjun only caused her more stress, something her doctor said she couldn’t handle. She willed herself not to check her phone to see if he had replied. It had been about three days now. She hated that she was constantly checking his ‘last seen at’ status and yes, he had logged in just five minutes ago. Yet she couldn’t stop herself. This sinking feeling go find absolutely no communication was becoming unbearable, almost torturous.
And then, just as she sat down in her chair, her phone vibrated. With her heart thudding in her ear, she unlocked her phone and stared at the screen. Finally! It was his message.
But when she opened it and read it, she nearly stopped breathing. She didn’t know if he was joking or not. What was this?
I don’t want to live anymore, the message flashed on her phone.
Aaradhana was so stunned, it took her some time to process the message. Her son was the farthest from suicidal. He would not message like this, not unless something terrible had happened. She closed her eyes, wondering how to get him to open up.
Talk to me, Arjun. What happened? Are you safe?
Four days had passed since rains and cyclones had flooded parts of Chennai, and three days since he had last messaged her. Aaradhana worried after Arjun and his family – his wife that she had met once and his daughter that she had never laid her eyes on. She had to end this impasse that father and son had worked themselves into, and perhaps this was the best time to get them talking again. As she waited for his reply, she started making plans. Her son needed her, and she needed to be with him. Of course, that involved convincing her husband, Krishna, to forego his ego and travel to Chennai. It would not be the easiest of tasks, given that he had banished Arjun and his family from sight almost four years back.
The phone’s vibration brought her out of her reverie, and she read his reply.
My daughter is dead.
The second Arjun’s missive registered, Aaradhana found herself on the floor, crying herself hoarse.
When Krishna entered home after his twelve-hour work shift, he expected Aaradhana to be waiting at the table, ready to serve him dinner, as was the norm. Instead, he found her sitting at the head of the table, facing him down with what he could only describe as grim determination. Her eyes were marked with marked kohl, which betrayed the fact that she had been crying, and behind her were three suitcases packed and ready to be moved.
Krishna opened his mouth to ask her what was going on, but she raised a hand to cut him short, much to his surprise. He wondered what had gotten into his wife.
“Husband, we are going to Chennai. Tonight.” She said in a firm that brokered no argument. Krishna’s eyes widened as realisation flooded him. She wanted to go see her son! The boy who had shamed their family so! And she knew where he had been staying! Krishna took a deep breath, and tried to modulate his voice not to betray his fury.
“Did he call you? How do you know where he is?”
“He’s my son. I have been in touch with him. I never really broke contact.”
“How dare you!” Krishna thundered, all restraint forgotten, “You promised me you would never talk to him!”
“Sit down, Krishna.” Aaradhana said quietly, her voice firm. Her eyes never left his, shouting defiance. Krishna flinched, as though he had been slapped. In the thirty years of their marriage, she had never before addressed him by his name. That she was furious with him registered to Krishna, but it still didn’t comprehend. She betrayed his trust by talking to that boy, and now she was angry with him? As his arms hit the arms-rest, he realised he had sat down at the table.
“If you can keep tabs on our son, I can talk to him. Now listen to me. Carefully.” Aaradhana stood up, hands on the table, and seemed to loom over Krishna. “We are going to Chennai. Our son… Our family needs us, and we will be there for them. Do you understand?” Krishna immediately began to protest, but had to gulp down his words as he caught the challenging glint in her eye. She whispered the question again, but her words thundered around him. “Do. You. Understand?”
Krishna sighed, all fight draining out of his pores. “What is going on, Aaru?” He pleaded. He had never seen his wife like this. He couldn’t bring himself to believe that she would make him forget the mud… the insult that boy had rained on their family when he married that girl. How could she expect him to forgive and talk to the person who had abandoned his parents for some woman? Aaradhana had been his partner in every manner for the past three decades, and he was sure he knew her intimately. She would never break his trust… what could have happened in Chennai that she would consider going there?
Aaradhana simply turned and switched on the television to the news station. The reporters were discussing the cyclone threat around Chennai and the rains flooding parts of the city. Krishna was confused, this wasn’t something new. The rains had been troubling the city for the better part of a week now. But as he looked at Aaradhana, realization flooded him.
“Is he… safe?” Krishna asked, surprised that his voice had faltered. Aaradhana simply looked at him, face accusing, as if the floods were his fault, and replied, “He’s safe. Now go get ready. We have a flight to catch.” As Krishna let himself be pushed into his room, he realized he felt afraid. Very afraid. She said Arjun was safe, and that he believed. But he hadn’t missed the look of anguish she had let slip in the moment he had asked the question. His… son might be safe, but something unspeakable had happened, and he needed his parents. And all their differences aside, he would be there for his son.
It rained throughout their cab ride as they waded the waters and traffic of Besant Nagar in Chennai, and lent an added touch of gloom to the one Aaradhana knew came from within her. Krishna had been silent for over an hour now, ever since she had told him the devastating news. She had hoped to see some reaction – anger, sadness, maybe despair; but instead had seen him shut down completely. She hoped he would process the loss before they reached.
Aaradhana knew it was wrong to blame this on her husband, but Krishna’s diktat on breaking all familial bonds was why she would never meet her granddaughter, or play with her. She couldn’t let go of that little bit of resentment. Thankfully he had agreed to come to Chennai, and in that was some small blessing. She could perhaps salvage a little something from the wreckage of this family. She made a small prayer to her gods, promising she would make sure the family got back together.
Aaradhana recognized Arjun’s home as soon as they arrived from the photos he had sent. No one came out to receive them as they got off the cab and walked through ankle length water to the front door. As she rang the bell to the front door, she saw Krishna set his shirt right, and then hold her hand and squeeze it, “It will be alright, Aaru.”
Aaradhana afforded an amused smile that her husband was reassuring her, and turned as the door opened, and a stranger looked at them.
“We’re looking for Arjun Dayal. We’re his parents?” Krishna demanded. The stranger’s eyes filled with pity, and he beckoned them in. “Yes, please come in. I’m so sorry for your loss. I’m Ramanan, the next door neighbour…”
Aaradhana left the neighbour behind to talk to her husband and started weaving through the crowd in the living room, looking for Arjun or his wife. She found him standing alone in the balcony. He turned to see her, and stepped back, uncertain.
“Mother? You are really here?”
“How could I leave you when you need me?”
“And… he came too?”
“Yes he did. He’s your father, Arjun. And no, this is not the time to be thinking of things long past. How are you holding up?”
“How do you expect? I feel like my soul has been ripped out of my body. I don’t feel that will to live anymore.”
Aaradhana held his hand and squeezed gently. “And Tanya? How is she holding up?”
“Not well. She is devastated. And now she has to be strong for the guests.”
“Be there for her, son. Whatever you think you are going through, she is going through ten times worse. She needs you now more than ever.”
Arjun cringed, then hugged her and started crying.
“I don’t know how, mother. She doesn’t let me near her now, or even look at me. Maybe I remind her too much of what we have lost. Maybe… she never felt home, mother. He turned us out, and we had no one. And now the one person our life was building around, our family… it’s all gone!”
Aaradhana just held Arjun as he cried, murmuring soothing words to him. Things were breaking down faster than she was putting them back together. She had her task cut out for her.
Krishna walked around the house, avoiding people, sipping the rasam someone had handed him in a tumbler. It was impeccably well kept, he had to admit to himself, Arjun did have a strong sense of neatness and discipline. He tried not to think much as he moved past the bedroom, but something made him turn and enter. It was a regular bedroom, with a double bed facing an LED television, but one corner of the room was painted in a different hue.
As Krishna walked to the purple corner of the bedroom, he felt a sinking feeling in his tummy. There was a small bed, with a blue blanket. He felt the softness of the blanket as his hands also brushed past the soft toys lined up in the corner. Before he knew it, he was on his knees, sobbing. His granddaughter, and he would never know her. He would never have the pleasure of giving her sweets when her parents told her she shouldn’t have them. He would never be able to hug her, or see her smile.
“She asked about you once, when we were showing her family photos.”
Krishna fell back in surprise, and turned to see a young woman in her twenties, impeccably dressed in a red sari, watching him from the door. “I… I was just…” He stammered.
“I know you, Uncle.” The woman answered, walking to him, and helping him up. “Although I never thought I would ever meet you. Much less in these circumstances.”
Krishna took his time to look at the woman properly. Yes, he recognized her. Tanya, the woman that his son had married. She took his scrutiny with well enough graces, and then said, “I know you are here to support your son. I should leave you alone.”
As Tanya was about to leave the room, Krishna called after her, “It doesn’t go away, you know?”
She turned to him, surprised.
“I see what you are doing, Tanya. Focusing on the guests, on the work that needs to be done. Distracting yourself, thinking you can grieve later. It doesn’t go away, the pain. Nor do the distractions. Running away from it will not help.”
Tanya sat back beside him on the bed, scrutinizing him in return.
“You lost a child too?” She finally asked, eyes filling up with sorrow. Krishna simply nodded. Understanding began reflecting in her eyes, and she asked, “You didn’t come here for Arjun? You came for me?”
Krishna smiled inspite of himself. “Arjun is like his mother. He likes to be the centre of support, the backbone that holds the world up. Yes, I came for him, but only in the sense that I came for family. A family I have neglected in favour of my foolish ego. I came, Tanya, to ask forgiveness. I came to be a part of your family.”
Tanya just looked shocked. “I… don’t understand. We got married despite your disapproval. Why would you change your heart about it? And that, now?”
Krishna took her hands in his and replied, “I was upset. I disapproved. Maybe I still do. But that doesn’t change the fact that you are family. I regret not having made amends. I regret never having met my granddaughter. I regret being a fool.”
“But…”
“I lost a child too, once. And I tried to push the grief away. I pushed my wife away. And I almost lost her. It was only when I surrendered to her completely and grieved that we could move on. And then we had Arjun. I came because you are making my mistake Tanya.”
“Every time I look at him…” She started, voice breaking.
“I know. Grieve, daughter. Let it all out. The pain will never leave, but at least it will become bearable. And you will be able to be with the man you love.”
Krishna grunted as Tanya hugged him, crying. “I miss her, Uncle. I miss her so much!”
Krishna held her for a moment, and then let go as Arjun and Aaradhana entered the room. Tanya wiped her tears away and stood. Aaradhana went straight and hugged her. Krishna simply stood and looked at Arjun.
“Father.” Arjun nodded, and held out his hand.
“Son.” Krishna replied, and shook Arjun’s hand.
“Oh shut it you two” Aaradhana said exasperatedly, and pulled both Krishna and Arjun into a big hug.
Ramanan found the Dayals in the bedroom, smiling and talking to each other, when he came to announce that the body had arrived. As they piled into the living room as one, they saw that a space had been made and a small body was laid at the centre. On the one side was a photo of a two-year-old girl, smiling, with not a care in the world, and on the other, a priest preparing for the final rites.
The grandparents flanked the body, smiling genially. The grandfather proclaimed her to be the most beautiful girl he had ever laid eyes on, while the grandmother apologised for not visiting earlier. The parents simply embraced each other. The father announced to everyone that the day was meant not to mourn the passing of his daughter, but to celebrate her life, and the mother was heard telling the father she had known their daughter would bring their family together.
* * *
Aaradhana busied herself with cleaning the mahogany desk, trying to distract herself from what was worrying her. Thinking of Arjun only caused her more stress, something her doctor said she couldn’t handle. She willed herself not to check her phone to see if he had replied. It had been about three days now. She hated that she was constantly checking his ‘last seen at’ status and yes, he had logged in just five minutes ago. Yet she couldn’t stop herself. This sinking feeling go find absolutely no communication was becoming unbearable, almost torturous.
And then, just as she sat down in her chair, her phone vibrated. With her heart thudding in her ear, she unlocked her phone and stared at the screen. Finally! It was his message.
But when she opened it and read it, she nearly stopped breathing. She didn’t know if he was joking or not. What was this?
I don’t want to live anymore, the message flashed on her phone.
Aaradhana was so stunned, it took her some time to process the message. Her son was the farthest from suicidal. He would not message like this, not unless something terrible had happened. She closed her eyes, wondering how to get him to open up.
Talk to me, Arjun. What happened? Are you safe?
Four days had passed since rains and cyclones had flooded parts of Chennai, and three days since he had last messaged her. Aaradhana worried after Arjun and his family – his wife that she had met once and his daughter that she had never laid her eyes on. She had to end this impasse that father and son had worked themselves into, and perhaps this was the best time to get them talking again. As she waited for his reply, she started making plans. Her son needed her, and she needed to be with him. Of course, that involved convincing her husband, Krishna, to forego his ego and travel to Chennai. It would not be the easiest of tasks, given that he had banished Arjun and his family from sight almost four years back.
The phone’s vibration brought her out of her reverie, and she read his reply.
My daughter is dead.
The second Arjun’s missive registered, Aaradhana found herself on the floor, crying herself hoarse.
* * *
When Krishna entered home after his twelve-hour work shift, he expected Aaradhana to be waiting at the table, ready to serve him dinner, as was the norm. Instead, he found her sitting at the head of the table, facing him down with what he could only describe as grim determination. Her eyes were marked with marked kohl, which betrayed the fact that she had been crying, and behind her were three suitcases packed and ready to be moved.
Krishna opened his mouth to ask her what was going on, but she raised a hand to cut him short, much to his surprise. He wondered what had gotten into his wife.
“Husband, we are going to Chennai. Tonight.” She said in a firm that brokered no argument. Krishna’s eyes widened as realisation flooded him. She wanted to go see her son! The boy who had shamed their family so! And she knew where he had been staying! Krishna took a deep breath, and tried to modulate his voice not to betray his fury.
“Did he call you? How do you know where he is?”
“He’s my son. I have been in touch with him. I never really broke contact.”
“How dare you!” Krishna thundered, all restraint forgotten, “You promised me you would never talk to him!”
“Sit down, Krishna.” Aaradhana said quietly, her voice firm. Her eyes never left his, shouting defiance. Krishna flinched, as though he had been slapped. In the thirty years of their marriage, she had never before addressed him by his name. That she was furious with him registered to Krishna, but it still didn’t comprehend. She betrayed his trust by talking to that boy, and now she was angry with him? As his arms hit the arms-rest, he realised he had sat down at the table.
“If you can keep tabs on our son, I can talk to him. Now listen to me. Carefully.” Aaradhana stood up, hands on the table, and seemed to loom over Krishna. “We are going to Chennai. Our son… Our family needs us, and we will be there for them. Do you understand?” Krishna immediately began to protest, but had to gulp down his words as he caught the challenging glint in her eye. She whispered the question again, but her words thundered around him. “Do. You. Understand?”
Krishna sighed, all fight draining out of his pores. “What is going on, Aaru?” He pleaded. He had never seen his wife like this. He couldn’t bring himself to believe that she would make him forget the mud… the insult that boy had rained on their family when he married that girl. How could she expect him to forgive and talk to the person who had abandoned his parents for some woman? Aaradhana had been his partner in every manner for the past three decades, and he was sure he knew her intimately. She would never break his trust… what could have happened in Chennai that she would consider going there?
Aaradhana simply turned and switched on the television to the news station. The reporters were discussing the cyclone threat around Chennai and the rains flooding parts of the city. Krishna was confused, this wasn’t something new. The rains had been troubling the city for the better part of a week now. But as he looked at Aaradhana, realization flooded him.
“Is he… safe?” Krishna asked, surprised that his voice had faltered. Aaradhana simply looked at him, face accusing, as if the floods were his fault, and replied, “He’s safe. Now go get ready. We have a flight to catch.” As Krishna let himself be pushed into his room, he realized he felt afraid. Very afraid. She said Arjun was safe, and that he believed. But he hadn’t missed the look of anguish she had let slip in the moment he had asked the question. His… son might be safe, but something unspeakable had happened, and he needed his parents. And all their differences aside, he would be there for his son.
* * *
It rained throughout their cab ride as they waded the waters and traffic of Besant Nagar in Chennai, and lent an added touch of gloom to the one Aaradhana knew came from within her. Krishna had been silent for over an hour now, ever since she had told him the devastating news. She had hoped to see some reaction – anger, sadness, maybe despair; but instead had seen him shut down completely. She hoped he would process the loss before they reached.
Aaradhana knew it was wrong to blame this on her husband, but Krishna’s diktat on breaking all familial bonds was why she would never meet her granddaughter, or play with her. She couldn’t let go of that little bit of resentment. Thankfully he had agreed to come to Chennai, and in that was some small blessing. She could perhaps salvage a little something from the wreckage of this family. She made a small prayer to her gods, promising she would make sure the family got back together.
Aaradhana recognized Arjun’s home as soon as they arrived from the photos he had sent. No one came out to receive them as they got off the cab and walked through ankle length water to the front door. As she rang the bell to the front door, she saw Krishna set his shirt right, and then hold her hand and squeeze it, “It will be alright, Aaru.”
Aaradhana afforded an amused smile that her husband was reassuring her, and turned as the door opened, and a stranger looked at them.
“We’re looking for Arjun Dayal. We’re his parents?” Krishna demanded. The stranger’s eyes filled with pity, and he beckoned them in. “Yes, please come in. I’m so sorry for your loss. I’m Ramanan, the next door neighbour…”
Aaradhana left the neighbour behind to talk to her husband and started weaving through the crowd in the living room, looking for Arjun or his wife. She found him standing alone in the balcony. He turned to see her, and stepped back, uncertain.
“Mother? You are really here?”
“How could I leave you when you need me?”
“And… he came too?”
“Yes he did. He’s your father, Arjun. And no, this is not the time to be thinking of things long past. How are you holding up?”
“How do you expect? I feel like my soul has been ripped out of my body. I don’t feel that will to live anymore.”
Aaradhana held his hand and squeezed gently. “And Tanya? How is she holding up?”
“Not well. She is devastated. And now she has to be strong for the guests.”
“Be there for her, son. Whatever you think you are going through, she is going through ten times worse. She needs you now more than ever.”
Arjun cringed, then hugged her and started crying.
“I don’t know how, mother. She doesn’t let me near her now, or even look at me. Maybe I remind her too much of what we have lost. Maybe… she never felt home, mother. He turned us out, and we had no one. And now the one person our life was building around, our family… it’s all gone!”
Aaradhana just held Arjun as he cried, murmuring soothing words to him. Things were breaking down faster than she was putting them back together. She had her task cut out for her.
* * *
Krishna walked around the house, avoiding people, sipping the rasam someone had handed him in a tumbler. It was impeccably well kept, he had to admit to himself, Arjun did have a strong sense of neatness and discipline. He tried not to think much as he moved past the bedroom, but something made him turn and enter. It was a regular bedroom, with a double bed facing an LED television, but one corner of the room was painted in a different hue.
As Krishna walked to the purple corner of the bedroom, he felt a sinking feeling in his tummy. There was a small bed, with a blue blanket. He felt the softness of the blanket as his hands also brushed past the soft toys lined up in the corner. Before he knew it, he was on his knees, sobbing. His granddaughter, and he would never know her. He would never have the pleasure of giving her sweets when her parents told her she shouldn’t have them. He would never be able to hug her, or see her smile.
“She asked about you once, when we were showing her family photos.”
Krishna fell back in surprise, and turned to see a young woman in her twenties, impeccably dressed in a red sari, watching him from the door. “I… I was just…” He stammered.
“I know you, Uncle.” The woman answered, walking to him, and helping him up. “Although I never thought I would ever meet you. Much less in these circumstances.”
Krishna took his time to look at the woman properly. Yes, he recognized her. Tanya, the woman that his son had married. She took his scrutiny with well enough graces, and then said, “I know you are here to support your son. I should leave you alone.”
As Tanya was about to leave the room, Krishna called after her, “It doesn’t go away, you know?”
She turned to him, surprised.
“I see what you are doing, Tanya. Focusing on the guests, on the work that needs to be done. Distracting yourself, thinking you can grieve later. It doesn’t go away, the pain. Nor do the distractions. Running away from it will not help.”
Tanya sat back beside him on the bed, scrutinizing him in return.
“You lost a child too?” She finally asked, eyes filling up with sorrow. Krishna simply nodded. Understanding began reflecting in her eyes, and she asked, “You didn’t come here for Arjun? You came for me?”
Krishna smiled inspite of himself. “Arjun is like his mother. He likes to be the centre of support, the backbone that holds the world up. Yes, I came for him, but only in the sense that I came for family. A family I have neglected in favour of my foolish ego. I came, Tanya, to ask forgiveness. I came to be a part of your family.”
Tanya just looked shocked. “I… don’t understand. We got married despite your disapproval. Why would you change your heart about it? And that, now?”
Krishna took her hands in his and replied, “I was upset. I disapproved. Maybe I still do. But that doesn’t change the fact that you are family. I regret not having made amends. I regret never having met my granddaughter. I regret being a fool.”
“But…”
“I lost a child too, once. And I tried to push the grief away. I pushed my wife away. And I almost lost her. It was only when I surrendered to her completely and grieved that we could move on. And then we had Arjun. I came because you are making my mistake Tanya.”
“Every time I look at him…” She started, voice breaking.
“I know. Grieve, daughter. Let it all out. The pain will never leave, but at least it will become bearable. And you will be able to be with the man you love.”
Krishna grunted as Tanya hugged him, crying. “I miss her, Uncle. I miss her so much!”
Krishna held her for a moment, and then let go as Arjun and Aaradhana entered the room. Tanya wiped her tears away and stood. Aaradhana went straight and hugged her. Krishna simply stood and looked at Arjun.
“Father.” Arjun nodded, and held out his hand.
“Son.” Krishna replied, and shook Arjun’s hand.
“Oh shut it you two” Aaradhana said exasperatedly, and pulled both Krishna and Arjun into a big hug.
* * *
Ramanan found the Dayals in the bedroom, smiling and talking to each other, when he came to announce that the body had arrived. As they piled into the living room as one, they saw that a space had been made and a small body was laid at the centre. On the one side was a photo of a two-year-old girl, smiling, with not a care in the world, and on the other, a priest preparing for the final rites.
The grandparents flanked the body, smiling genially. The grandfather proclaimed her to be the most beautiful girl he had ever laid eyes on, while the grandmother apologised for not visiting earlier. The parents simply embraced each other. The father announced to everyone that the day was meant not to mourn the passing of his daughter, but to celebrate her life, and the mother was heard telling the father she had known their daughter would bring their family together.
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