The Great Indian Mythology (Vol I)

Prologue

  ‘Testing…Testing…’ The cursor sped across the screen like a rabbit being

chased around by a predator. Continuing to blink eagerly, awaiting to chase

and reach the end of the page.

  Dipanshu stepped back with the instruction manual still clutched loosely

in his hands to marvel at the machine. He reviewed the instruction manual

which accompanied the bulky machine again. The fiber optic cable springing

out of the stocky wide screen like a tea pot’s stout was apparently capable of

detecting brainwaves. He stared at the circuit diagram, which was responsible

for converting the detecting brainwaves into recognizable words. The red LED

glowing warmly next to the tiny 1024MP camera perched above the screen,

ensured that the machine was capable of detecting not only thoughts, but also

emotions and tone. Dipanshu wasn’t much of an electronics engineer to make

sense of the circuit diagram, all he knew was that it resembled a ball in the

maze game he spent hours playing as a kid. He chuckled at the thought and

looked at the screen as the cursor flashed a smiley emoticon (:D). The

instruction manual further explained that the operating system was a

prototype and it was imperative for the system to be connected with the World

Wide Web and a continuous supply for its proper functioning. He reminded

himself to send a congratulatory mail to the guys working in the R&D wing of

Hastings & Purre Industries. They had outdone themselves this time.

                                    :

 ‘I am old. There I said it.’ Dipanshu spoke amidst smiles and raucous

laughter. He paused long enough to survey the audience. Seated and standing

around the conference table were Hastings & Purre board members, associates

and friends who had served with him, under him, along his extended family

relatives.

  He waited for the smiles and laughter to die down before continuing, ‘I

have served this company for 67 years, 7 months and 3 weeks. I have therefore

decided to step down from my position of being Chairman and CEO of Hastings

& Purre industries. I plan on retiring to my summer home and write my

autobiography, just like any other old man. All I wish or want for is two

things…’ Dipanshu once again surveyed the room. The room enveloped itself

with bated breath and stifling silence. The day was supposed to mark not just

Dipanshu’s retirement but also the announcement of his successor.

  ‘I wish that something be created which would assist me in writing my

autobiography. Not somebody but something. Lord knows that I am a difficult

man to please’ Couple of his grand nephews sniggered at the statement.

Dipanshu’s sexual predilections were an open secret. Dipanshu ignored the

sniggers and continued. His next announcement fell on the audience’s ears like

a giant boulder in a small pothole filled with muddy rainwater.

  Dipanshu knew that his nephews wouldn’t challenge his decision, but

their sons was a different matter altogether. It was his last day as acting

Chairman and CEO and but certainly not his last day as the ultimate puppet master. He knew better than anybody that he will continue holding the strings,

tugging and twisting them and watch the next two generations of his family

dance to his tunes. He was going to exact his pound of flesh for his wasted

youth. And it was time for the old man to live out his youth.

                                    :

  ‘You look just like an elephant.’ Dipanshu exclaimed as he pinched the

fiber optic cable sticking out of the screen. ‘You know what? From now on, I am

going to call you Motu Ram… Get it? You are fat and you have RAM in you…’

Dipanshu chortled aloud at his own joke. The cursor paused its manic blinking

just long enough to catch Dipanshu’s attention. Dipanshu stared at the cursor

worryingly but the cursor soon resumed normal behavior. Dipanshu shook his

head to clear his head and vision.

  ‘Optical illusion’ Dipanshu mumbled to himself as he cleared the

packaging and readied himself to mediate between his feuding nephews.

                                    :

  She continued to look at the man on her screen. A sinister smile spread

across her old wrinkled face as she pushed her gray hair behind her ear. She

couldn’t help but admire him, despite his age, he still moved like a young buck.

His tall frame filled her screen. The camera did a marvelous job.  She smiled and spoke to herself, ‘I have waited for too long for this. I

shall now have my revenge on you Dipanshu. And I am going to enjoy every bit

of it.’

      She watched as his fingers absentmindedly ran across her name printed

at the back of the instruction manual and felt a shiver of excitement spread

across her thighs.

                                        :

      ‘Dipanshuavratha doesn’t sound like a good name to be on a cover of a

book. Wonder if I should write under a pseudonym… I suppose I will.’

Dipanshu pondered for a while before turning and looked at the cursor on the

screen for reassurance. He finally broke the silence and gleefully pronounced, ‘I

shall write under the pen name of V. Vyas. People will think it was written by

some south Indian. Only those people have initials in their names. And the

book shall be called… Time and Karma – Who is the biggest bitch of them all?’

Dipanshu chuckled as he saw the title and the pen name get imprinted on the

screen.

      ‘I suppose one should begin from the very beginning if one has to start

recounting one’s story.’ Dipanshu smiled as he spoke aloud to himself as he

sat down for breakfast and poured himself his cup of tea in fine china.

      He stared at the excited cursor which blinked like an eager and excited

dog’s tail wagging and began dictating the tale of forefathers and his life.  1

  ‘Once upon a time, long time ago, there was once a rich but a kind

Zamindar called Pratap. He was very popular. So popular that it was rumored

three villages hailed him as their savior. There existed no problem for which

Pratap didn’t have a solution for. He was hailed for a gleaming example of what

a man ought to be and what a man ought to be like. Virile, intelligent, kind,

just, leadership qualities were few of the virtues people sang praises about in

reference to Pratap and his nature. Pratap’s intelligence and kind nature are

rumored to be the first instance of an urban legend being born. He was

rumored to have blue blood running through his veins shielded under his dark

and dusky skin.

  Pratap had an unusual hobby for a man to engage in at that point of

time. Pratap also wrestled with a common question which plagued men of

stature for that period of time. Pratap was childless. And the question of who

would be his successor often left him feeling duly stressed and unable to

perform. After a long and grueling day, which he usually spent holding court

for artisans, jesters, poets and occasionally listening to the reports prepared by

his estate managers, and before he retired to spend the night in his wife’s

heaving bosom. Pratap liked to consume himself in his quest to medically

address his issue of non – performance. And before he knew it, the quest to

find answer to his dilemma soon became his favorite pastime.  Many a time Pratap felt like he was on a verge of a breakthrough, his

loins would burn and he would ache to test his latest potion or ointment on

himself and his wife. But there are only so many innocent excuses a man can

make for his shameful hobby. Pratap was a closet pharmacist but he was too

ashamed to acknowledge his love for putrid smells and self medication. The

longer he stayed without any kids, the louder he heard his detractor’s voices

grow in the background. Tearing away the careful image his forefathers and he

had build for him.

  After a lot of trial and error, Pratap finally managed to gift his wife with a

child. His joy knew no bounds when the midwife came rushing out of his wife’s

bedroom clutching a tiny morsel of flesh lathered in human tissue and blood.

  ‘IT’S A BOY!’ the midwife screamed. The midwife’s scream soon gave way

to loud and boisterous celebrations in and around his palatial house. The

celebratory energy was so infectious that the rest of the village celebrated it

with great gusto.

  ‘We will call him Devapi’ he heard his wife whisper feebly. Pratap nodded

and smiled, but one look at his newly born offspring indicated that the child

would experience side effects from the medicine Pratap had consumed before

conception.

  ‘Do NOT tell her about that medicine you took before you impregnated

her’ Pratap heard a stringy small voice whisper into his ears. He believed the

voice was that of reason. The voice of reason which every boy and man gets acquainted with when there is something to be confessed and the

subconscious knows that such a confession would lead to dire consequences.

  Time galloped away like a gazelle in heat being chased by sexual

deviants. Devapi, bore a strong resemblance to his father. Just like his father,

he was both popular and loved by one and all. He was one of the pioneer

activists for animal rights. Pratap had distanced himself from Devapi despite

his love for him. This he did under the guise of self preservation. But like any

son who craves the attention of his father, this only spurned Devapi to be more

righteous and virtuous than his own father.

  With time on his hand, and having delegated the duty of managing the

day to day affairs of the estate to his Devapi, Pratap soon began spending more

time perfecting his son bearing medicine. And soon enough, his efforts paid

fruit when his wife got pregnant for the second time.

  ‘It is a son’ the midwife moaned as the newly born suckled hard and

licked the milky teat. Pratap rushed towards the midwife carrying his newly

born son to check for telltale signs of any of the side effects which Pratap had

noticed in his eldest son. Not finding any, he let out a loud hoot of joy which

drowned the midwife’s words of caution.

  ‘Keep him away from women and booze. And make sure he doesn’t fall

into bad company’ the midwife moaned, her irises rolling back in pleasure as

the newly born bundle of joy flicked its tongue teasingly at the milky teat.  ‘We will call him Balika. AND IT WOULD BE NICE IF YOU CAME AND

INQUIRED ABOUT MY WELL BEING! I JUST GAVE YOU ANOTHER SON…

YOU SON OF A BITCH!’ Pratap laughed as he heard his wife yell from her

room.’

                                     :

  Dipanshu paused and looked at the screen as he refilled his drink. As he

kept the bottle of whisky back on the counter he glanced at the clock. The time

read as quarter past seven.

  ‘I wonder if my grandmother was a closet nameologist like the way my

grandfather was a self medicating, Viagra popping old man. Anyway… I think

that is enough for today Moturam. We will continue tomorrow’ And with that

Dipanshu stretched and cracked his knuckles before pulling down the plastic

sheet over Moturam’s screen.

                                     :

  ‘Oh Dipanshu, Dipanshu, Dipanshu! You were always so naïve and full

of surprises. I suppose I can wait for you to finish writing your pitiful and sad

life history before I pull the plug on you’ The woman smiled as she swiveled his

chair to face the garlanded photo of Dipanshu placed on the wall behind the

computer screens.  2

  ‘Where did we stop last?’ Dipanshu spoke to the computer screen with

his reading glasses perched precariously.

  ‘Ah! Yes! The birth of my uncle Balika’ Dipanshu exclaimed as he leaned

back against the sun bed soaking in the winter sun.

                                     :

  If there does exist a neglected question which people find hard to

articulate leave alone bother searching answers for, then the question of “why,

a son who is starved of his father’s affection wants to grow up wanting to be just

like his father, while a son who is showered with all the love and affection a

father can muster take the less virtuous road?” is a fine example. This was the

question which lay at the heart of the familial and moral dilemma which Pratap

often woke up to. Slathered in his own drool, fear stained sweat coating his

pillow and wavy mane.

  More than time and exposure to oxygenated air, the real reason for age to

show on Pratap’s handsome face was his son, Balika. Not only had Balika

grown into a strong boy for his age, but he also grew up with the secret

knowledge of where the key to the liquor cabinet was kept. Not a single hour

passed where Pratap didn’t hear any complaints about his son’s ludicrous

drunken behavior. For years, Pratap, like every other Indian husband chastised

his wife for allowing his favorite son to wander off the path of self righteousness. Mrs. Pratap, for her part as a child bearing vessel kept mum as

she watched her face contort in maternal agony in the dressing table mirror.

The sight of tears rolling down her cheeks and falling into her blush and

foundation spurning her further to watch the puddle grow bigger.

  ‘Have considered sending him to a boarding school sire?’ Pratap’s

manager whispered. Pratap had cancelled another evening of hosting friends

and nautch girls. This perplexed his managers more than Pratap himself.

  ‘Boarding school?’ Pratap broke the mold of depression which masked

his otherwise sharp features.

  ‘Sire…’ the manager cheekily smiled before quickly hiding his mirth and

continuing, ‘You begin with threats of sending young master Balika to a

boarding school. And if young master does call your bluff and doesn’t show an

improvement in his behavior, then you ship him off to a boarding school’

  ‘And what use would that be? What guarantee is that sending Balika to a

boarding school would cure him of his cankerous ways’ Pratap quizzed his

manager as he rolled the suggestion in his mind, weighing its pros and cons.

  ‘Well sire, for one thing, the boarding school is meant for all boys. That

effectively resolves and stops all these complaints from young girl’s parents.

And in the off chance that a boarding school doesn’t mend young master’s

ways then a short service commission in the Army should. And boarding school

students are looked upon favorably. Imagine the goodwill you will enjoy if young master does join the Army. None of his youthful follies will be

remembered if he does decide to join the armed forces.’ the manager spoke

breathlessly as he leafed through the folded file he carried around as a badge of

honor. The manager was afraid to make eye contact with his employer, lest

what he suggested be considered as being blasphemous and he be ordered to

be chop his own head off.

  ‘But I have heard that they serve beef and all sorts of other tereifa food in

their canteen. How am I supposed to be okay with my son eating things which

the revered Brahmins forbid us to eat?’ Pratap quizzed his manager, while he

still tried making up his mind about his son’s future.

  ‘Sire, pardon my insolent nature by suggesting this option, but as you

are well aware, young master Balika is already indulging in the said food

habits. The boarding school will not only keep his non – kosher diet in check

but if we are lucky then the spiritual studies class may even help him veer off

his brazen behavior. Sire, if you could just go through these brochures

advertising boarding schools. I hope they answer your concerns. Do pardon my

liberty.’ The manager bowed low enough for him to smell the cow dung covered

earth and stretched his hand which gently clutched the brochures which

advertised boarding schools.

  Just then an angry villager socked the security officer standing guard

outside Pratap’s courtyard.

  ‘I demand justice!’ The villager screamed.

 ‘Calm down man. What seems to be the issue?’ The manager addressed

the nostril flaring red eyed villager as Pratap immersed himself in the

brochures.

     ‘Your son, Balika, he…’ rage choking the villager’s well thought and

rehearsed monologue, ‘I caught Balika offerings cigarettes and cheap liquor to

my son and daughter. If you can’t raise a son then at least try not stick into

your old woman’ the villager yelled.

     ‘Watch your tongue man. Do you know who you are speaking to?’ The

manager trembled with fear, hoping that Pratap didn’t hear the villager’s loud

voice.

     ‘Manager, tell him that I am deeply sorry. Please compensate this man

for his troubles. And promise him that this shall not happen. Balika is going to

be sent to a boarding school’ Pratap mumbled, not wanting to make eye contact

with the angry villager, his attention fixed on the ant making its way back

home carrying a large piece of sugar on its back.

     Mrs. Pratap witnessed and heard the loud exchange between the villager,

manager and Pratap. She soon called for her chambermaid.

     ‘Paro! Write a note to my brother and inform him that Balika will be

coming and staying with him. Indefinitely. Tell him that I will explain the whole

situation in a more relaxed manner. And Paro! Make sure that the note is sent

out by the evening pigeon courier service.’  ‘Certainly madam’ Paro spoke as she bowed and walked backwards out

of the room. Just as Paro exited out of Mrs. Pratap’s chambers, Pratap entered

with a grim expression on his face.

  ‘Dear mother of Devapi and Balika…’ Pratap paused, as he played with

different permutations and combinations within the confines of his eardrums,

trying to figure out the best way to break the news of his decision to his wife.

  ‘I know. I have already started making arrangements’ Mrs. Pratap curtly

explained.

  ‘How did you…? When did you…?’ Pratap stammered as he tried to frame

a comprehensible question.

  ‘Never mind all that. My brother owns and runs a good boarding school. I

have already made arrangements for him to receive Balika and ensure that he

is well looked after.’

  ‘Oh!’


  And so, Balika was shipped off to be looked after by his maternal uncle.

Time seemed to breeze through Pratap’s graying hairline as Devapi grew older

and more competent in managing the vast business Pratap built for himself. So

much so that Pratap himself realized his redundant presence in the daily

meeting with the managers. Balika’s maternal uncle sent across quarterly reports with regards to their son’s progress. Not surprisingly, Balika still

managed to get into fights on a regular basis, but he also seemed to have found

control over his addictive behavior.

  For a married couple, with no big worries occupying their consciousness,

with no societal pressures, Mr. and Mrs. Pratap finally found the time to

engage in love making instead of progeny production. Unexpectedly, Pratap

managed to get Mrs. Pratap pregnant once again, the only difference this time

was that Pratap had not applied his sperm count boosting ointment. So when

Mrs. Pratap complained about morning sickness, for a fleeting second Pratap

questioned Mrs. Pratap’s fidelity and the placebo effect of his ointment. After

having been assured that child feeding inside Mrs. Pratap’s womb was his

alone, Pratap started spending more time taking care of Mrs. Pratap and her

pregnant cravings. He even commissioned the finest painter to etch the

birthing process, much to his wife and midwife’s disgust. Not to mention the

revulsion experienced by the artist himself. But none of these protests were

being registered in the mind of a nonagenarian Pratap.

  ‘It is a boy!’ The midwife screamed for the third time. Pratap ambled over

as fast as his age and weakened bones allowed him, to where the midwife stood

cradling the new born.

  ‘We shall call him Santanu’ He exclaimed before his wife gave his natural

born son another name whose vibrations carried feminine tones. Mrs. Pratap

frail from the exertion of having delivered another child so late in her life had fallen asleep and couldn’t fight with her husband on his decision to name the

child himself.

                                   :

  ‘That is my father, Subash. It is true. He was born when my grandfather

was almost ready to kick the bucket. Not long after my grandmother gave birth

to my father, she died. No big surprise there. Anyway… I think that is enough

for today.’ Dipanshu spoke conversationally to the elephantine machine with

its unblinking red LED light.  3

    There is one quintessential rule which all parents follow when raising the

youngest. So stringently is the rule followed that it most often is the singular

reason for sibling rivalry. The duplicitous rule which guarantees, that the

youngest begat in the family is protected from the virtuous concepts of

‘respecting other’s boundaries’ and ‘responsibilities’. While the elder siblings are

required to comprehend these morally ambiguous words and showcase them in

their words and actions. These very words are considered the greatest

corruptors of the young. The young, to their credit innately recognize the

loophole in the system and behave in the brashest of all manners knowing that

the consequences of their action will never be exposed to their fragile and naïve

self.

                                      :

    ‘Bastard!’ Dipanshu muttered under his breath as he read and re-read

the words displayed on the screen. The cursor blinked vigorously, egging

Dipanshu to explain himself.

    ‘If only my father was raised like his brothers. If only my father wasn’t

given the preferential treatment, then I probably wouldn’t have been robbed of

what was truly mine. I wouldn’t have been a lonely old man.’ Dipanshu’s voice

fluctuated amidst an orgy of righteous anger and self pity. Dipanshu composed

himself and looked at Moturam and smiled to himself.  ‘You know what Moturam… You have become like my closest confidante.

And like most good friends, a reliable psychoanalyst. And I don’t even have to

worry about doctor patient confidentiality. You are probably the best

investment I ever made in my life’ Dipanshu smiled patronizingly and ran his

hands across the sides of the screen.

  ‘Anyway, I think I have skipped quite a bit in the story. It is just that the

way these grand nephews of mine are behaving… Morons. That is what they

are. All of this could have been avoided. Anyway…’ Dipanshu leaned back in

his chair and began recounting the story.

                                     :

  Pratap, despite his flaws as a man, was a good father. He made sure that

he carried on in his role as a provider till he was absolutely certain that at least

one of his sons could step into his shoes. Balika was too brash and hot headed

to take decisions while keeping the interest of the family at heart. Santanu was

too young and protected from the cynical ways of the world for him to shoulder

the burden of responsibility. And so by default, Devapi was chosen as the heir

apparent.

  ‘Send Devapi in’ Pratap motioned with his old wrinkly hand to the

chambermaid. Pratap’s head bobbed like a water buoy as it accepted the

framed statement which he would say to his eldest son.  ‘You called for me father…’ Devapi entered, his voice clearly indicating

the tremulous nature he observed in front of his father out of respect.

  ‘Yes. I did. Sit down Devapi. I have some good news and some bad news’

Pratap had decided that following clichéd dialogues would be the best way to go

forward. Devapi found a seat, even though he wanted to inquire if everything

was alright with his father, he couldn’t bring himself to utter the question out

of reverence.

  ‘I have decided that the time has come for me to leave all of the work to

you. I have taken this decision after years of procrastination. I know that you

will not only take good care of your mother, brothers and me. But also ensure

that the people who work for us show you the same amount of respect and

loyalty as they extended to me.’ Pratap looked intently at his son and watched

his irises dilate with joy.

  This was the moment for which Devapi had waited for so many years. For

years he had hid his secret from his family and for most of the time, from

himself. Devapi had dreamt about this scene being reenacted in his mind’s eye

for years. Devapi was feeling a bit of a déjà vu.

  ‘Father…’ Devapi’s spoke, the lack of timidity in his voice suddenly made

Pratap look at his son in new light. Pratap raised his eyebrows, indicating his

son to go on further.  ‘I have something to tell you’ Devapi spoke again, with assertiveness.

Pratap continued to remain silent and waited for his son to complete his

unarticulated thought. The thought encapsulated in a bubble was fast

ballooning past its breaking point. A bubble, which within its confines held a

secret so dark and disgraceful, that Devapi had invested years of his life to

keep it just that, a secret.

  ‘Father, for years…’ Devapi spoke, trying hard to keep his emotions in

check, ‘I have for years waited for your validation and love. And for years, I

have let myself suffer in silence. But now that you finally recognize me as your

own, I am afraid that I find myself incapable of living up to the high standards

you demand of me.’ Devapi stood up as he spoke these words. Pratap’s eye

involuntarily widened but he continued to hold his silence. Devapi swabbed his

hands across his face, forearms and neck as he spoke, wiping away at the

concealing make up he had applied to hide his secret. Pratap tried hard to

make sense of what was happening. He knew his son was uttering something

of great magnitude, but the sight of Devapi covered in sores made it difficult for

Pratap to engage both his sight and auditory senses.

  ‘Leper!’ was the one word which kept echoing between Pratap’s eyes

which seem to flood themselves in a desperate act of self preservation. The man

standing in front of him looked like his son. It had been so long ago since

Devapi was born that Pratap had quite forgotten his initial fear he had felt

crawl up through his skin and straight to his heart. But the sight of Devapi standing in a state of undress, the muscles in his body beginning to sag in

places, exposed sores beginning to water and the skin, lesions surrounding the

dark skin like oasis’s of normalcy.

  ‘I am sorry father. I am sorry’ Devapi face and body crumbled in front of

his father as his worst fears came true. The look in his father’s eyes crushing

the soul of the young boy Devapi had long fostered and given shelter to, till that

moment. Devapi quickly composed himself, gathered his clothes and left his

father’s chambers and the house he knew as home. Never to be heard of again.

  ‘I am sorry son… I love you’ is what Pratap’s consciousness spoke aloud,

but his lips refused to part ways.

                                    :

  ‘And that is how my father got to inherit the vast empire my grandfather

and his eldest brother had worked on. My other paternal uncle was too busy in

his own world to bother about anything else. And so at the young age of

seventeen my father took the reins and was forced into becoming a man. I

think Deva uncle’s departure had caused irreparable damage to my

grandfather’s heart. And soon enough, after ensuring that my father was aided

by his managers, he left his mortal vessel.’ Dipanshu spoke with melancholy

clouding his vision and tone.  4

  All a young man wished for in those days, was the company of his

friends, to be engaged in pursuit of adrenaline and, the heaving bosom of a

beautiful woman at night. Unlucky are those who manage to find a woman

whose mere sight sets their pulses pounding against their skin like manic war

drum beats. Santanu was one such unlucky man.

  ‘They come and trample all the saplings we sow in the field. They don’t

seem to be scared of us either. We installed scarecrows, each scarier than the

previous one. We even tried hurling stones at them. But they keep jumping and

running around thinking they are new born pups and we are playing with

them. We are suffering milord. We beg you to help us in our time of distress.

We are afraid that we won’t have enough to feed our family.’ The number of

farmers who began visiting Santanu to seek his assistance in curbing the deer

menace was quadrupling with every passing day.

  ‘Did you try putting up a fence around your farms?’ Santanu quizzed the

grieving farmers.

  ‘Oh! We did milord. But those damn creatures just jump in and out of

the fence like it was a game of skipping rope’ the villagers moaned.

  ‘Hmmm… How about I gather some of the best hunters and I personally

ensure that this problem is resolved by end of this week’ Santanu spoke, every

vowel coated in false bravado. The truth was that Santanu was a fine horse rider but he couldn’t handle leave alone fire a weapon. He had never deemed it

necessary to learn the art of warfare. All the lessons on war strategy and the

idea of physically toiling to wield a weapon bored him endlessly. He was well

aware of the legacy left behind by his father and elder brother. He knew he had

lay to rest the questions which were being whispered in hushed tones behind

his back.

  ‘A week sire? We have already suffered so much…’ The villagers

nervously explained.

  ‘Fine then! I will see into this matter first thing tomorrow.’ Santanu

exasperatedly gave into the villagers’ demand of instant action.

  With still hours left for the sun to sneak from under the comforting

blanket of the night, dressed in exorbitantly lavish armor, Santanu rode into

the forest along with five of the best archers in the village.

  A rider’s instinct is never to be confused as a hunter’s instinct. They are

mutually exclusive. While a rider seeks for unchartered terrain where he can

steer his steed, a hunter seeks for the terrain which houses the scent of his

prey. And so, soon enough, the five archers and Santanu parted ways as

Santanu galloped away, fueled by the cool early morning breeze, the hooves of

his gelding wet with the morning dew nestled on the grass.

  A rider’s mind when he fused one with his colt, with no destination in

sight experiences a state of trance so beautiful that the closest human experience to compete with it is that of nirvana, achieved by few men of god,

but promise by following a stringent diet of penance and self deprivation. Lost,

tired and carried forward by the glorious clipping noise of the hooves on the

ground underneath, Santanu finally pulled over at a nearby river. The hot sun

shimmered and wavered from the rocks lining the shore. Santanu dismounted

and ushered his horse to the river. But like the legend goes, you can take a

horse to the water and you can enjoy a drink in peace.

  Santanu rested his back against the horse and tried figuring out a way to

go back to his village. He hoped for his own sake that the hunters had been

successful in their endeavor. With the thought of a cool drink being guzzled

with his man servants blowing the fan, brought a smile across his flushed face

and sleep over his eyelids.

  It had seemed like minutes since he closed his eyes, but the sun had

decided to call it a day and was on his way back home. But what had woken up

the young man from his blissful sleep was the mellifluous sound of anklets

giving company to the sweetest song Santanu had ever heard in his life. He

couldn’t make out the words being sung, but the voice and the sight of soft

ankles filled him with ferocious longing to touch the angel who’s arched back

he was facing. So unruly was his heart that his olfactory senses had shut down

and refused to acknowledge the strong stench of sun dried fish the woman was

picking and gingerly placing in her basket like they were fragile orchids.  ‘Hello!’ Santanu spoke meekly, afraid that he was dreaming and the mere

utterance of a greeting would send this delicious illusion wafting away.

  Startled, the woman turned around to face Santanu. Her wet sari clung

to her thighs and naked bosom in wrinkles and patches like snake skin, her

dusky complexion shone in the evening sun and the thousand mirrors floating

on the river. Realizing that it was just a man and not a wild beast, she smiled.

Santanu couldn’t help but gasp as the picture perfect portrait of her face broke

into bijou detailing the birth of a bright constellation. The world, as Santanu

knew, stopped spinning for brief moment. A brief moment which lasted long

enough for Santanu to realize that there stood a woman with whom he would

spend the rest of his life.

  ‘Hello… Are you lost?’ the woman giggled the greeting and the question,

the sound lilting across the river and the cool evening air. The laugh (The sight

of man stuck speechless is one which evokes mirth in all species and genders)

cruel as it was, broke the reverie Santanu was floating in.

  ‘Er… yes… As a matter of fact I am. My name is Santanu. Son of Late

Zamindar Pratap of Kuru village. Brother of Devapi and Balika.’ He introduced

himself, trying hard to resuscitate some of his lost male ego.

  ‘My name is Ganga. I am daughter, sister of none. And I live closeby’ She

spoke with a smile, but her voice carried a sadness so deep that Santanu felt

an alien emotion overcome him. All his body longed for was to wrap his hands

across her wet and dainty shoulders, hug her tight enough that they be one, but gentle enough for her to know that he would be her world and all that she

desired.

  ‘I am sorry’ is all Santanu could manage as he stepped closer to Ganga.

The sexual tension was fast spreading around the two of them along with

darkness which prompted Santanu’s steed to relieve itself. This evoked further

laughter and momentarily dispelled the tension but not the night.

  ‘It is late. I wouldn’t suggest that you make your way back home now. My

hut is close by. You can take rest there and in the morning I can tell you the

way back to your village.’ She offered as she picked the basket filled with dried

fish and placed around her soft curvaceous waist. Santanu nodded and

followed the woman he didn’t know he had longed for so long.

  The smoke rose from the fire Ganga had stuck to heat up the gruel and

met with the rising moon in the clear night sky. The stars twinkled in

voyeuristic mischief, knowing well what they were going to witness.

  ‘I am sorry. But I don’t really have anything else to offer you.’ Ganga

apologized with a smile as she stirred the gruel and checked it for the desired

consistency.

  ‘Please don’t embarrass me. I should be the one who should apologize for

imposing on you.’ Santanu smiled back.

  ‘Can you taste this and tell me if it tastes alright? I usually forget to add

one thing or the other’ She smiled as she held the ladle in one hand, the other hand cradling it. Santanu stepped closer, but unsure of what was expected of

him, he looked confusingly at Ganga. Ganga dropped few drops of the gruel on

the hand which cradled and licked it to see how the gruel tasted. Santanu

taking cue from her, caught her hand and licked it just like she showed. The

raspy tongue running across her soft palms aroused the most sensual laugh

from Ganga.

  The laugh echoed like a bugle between the two bodies as Santanu finally

found the courage to act upon his primal instincts. Santanu gently cradled her

soft face between her hands, his gaze distracted by the deep brown eyes and

her lusciously bee stung lips glowing from the fire burning next to them. The

two bodies swept each other with emotions and pleasure. As they jousted with

each other till the gruel burned itself black in the pot, the fire died and the

moon hid itself behind the amorous clouds in shame.

  ‘Will you marry me?’ Santanu rasped the question as he pulled himself

apart and flung himself beside Ganga.

  ‘I just have one condition, my love’ Ganga turned her face towards the

flushed and sweat covered face of Santanu.

  ‘Yes my love. Anything you please.’ Santanu excitedly responded as he

gazed into her eyes. For a fleeting second, he did wonder if it was possible for a

woman to control her emotions even in the throes of passion. But the smile on

her face soon swept his concern aside as he eagerly awaited to hear her

condition.  ‘Promise me you will not ask me any questions. I have always lived my

life on my own terms. For the longest time, I have not had anybody question

where I went, what I did or why.’ The statement clouded Santanu’s eyebrows.

  ‘I promise, I will be faithful and you will never ever have a reason to

complain. But I do hope that marrying you doesn’t mean that I be treated like

an object bound in chains’ Ganga explained herself. The clouds parted just

enough for Santanu to see Ganga’s earnest and loving face before it hid itself

again as the enamored couple locked their bodies, willing their minds to fuse

them as one.

                                    :

  ‘So the great and virtuous Dipanshu is the son of a bastard

fisherwoman? Who would have guessed’ the woman stubbed a cigarette into

the already over flowing ashtray. The thought evinced a loud and a hearty

laugh from her, sending little icy shards of spit flying towards the computer

screen. The laughter died down to a snigger as she ran her fingers around the

outline of Dipanshu’s cheeks on her screen, wiping the spit off the screen.  5

  A carpenter, who makes furniture exclusively on the request of his

customers, keeping in mind their specific requests makes for an expert outside

observer for the state of marriage. The carpenter and the pragmatists know

that a piece of furniture is only as good as the glue which is employed in its

making. While the gloss and veneer may fade off with time, the glue is

instrumental in holding the pieces of wood together, long enough for it to be

handed over to succeeding generations. Then there are some customers who

cherish a glossier finish to their furniture, one which finds its spine broken

long before its expiry date. A marriage is lot like a good sturdy piece of

furniture. The glue and nails to a successful marriage is the trust and honesty

two people participating in a marriage share. The gloss and veneer is the

perception of the society which banks on the physical comfort the couple

shares.

  Santanu and Ganga’s marriage was as lustrously slick as split oil in a

puddle of rain water. Having addressed the problem of marauding herd of deer,

the villagers turned their attention to the newly wedded wife of Santanu.

Speculation was rife. Questions like ‘Who is she?’, ‘Where are her parents?’,

‘where did Santanu meet her?’, ‘Why does she smell like a fisherwoman?’, ‘Why

didn’t Santanu find my daughter worthy of marriage… they have been friends

since they were little kids’, ‘Does she always look this unkempt?’, ‘Does she eat bread?’ among others echoed along with the priest’s chants which sanctified

the union between Santanu and Ganga.

  Santanu, unlike his late father, didn’t have any problems in performing

his duties as a husband. Like the custom prevalent at that point of time,

Santanu also felt duty bound by the law of the land to procreate vigorously till

his newly wedded wife bore a child. And for all the effort, Santanu was soon a

participant in the midwife’s elaborate and dramatized scream.

  ‘It is a boy’ the midwife exclaimed. The same way she had done so for

years gone by.

  Amidst the cacophonous celebrations, the observant carpenter noticed

the first cracks appearing in the furniture called Santanu and Ganga’s married

life. A philosophical psychiatrist would have surmised and rephrased the

carpenter’s observations, ‘As man grows older, his youthful vanity and

definitions of self worth are replaced by that of security and contentment derived

from his comfort zone. Whereas, as a woman grows old, the loss of her youth

arrogance and independent streak, especially postpartum, results in

overwhelming denial and the absolute resolution to disregard and discard

changes.’

  Weeks after having delivered, Ganga teetered out of the house, in a

brazen disregard to the midwife’s instructions, with the new born still

clenching to his mother’s tits with his gummy jaws.  ‘You should be taking rest my love. You still look pale and tired.’ Santanu

rushed to his wife’s aid who still found it a challenge to walk with the

additional weight clinging to her bosom skewing her sense of balance. But a

stern glance underlined by the sharp raising of a singular eyebrow was enough

to stop Santanu dead in his tracks. Ganga could sense the words buoying up

and down Santanu’s throat.

  ‘Do you remember your promise? The one you made before we got

married?’ Ganga’s cold voice thumped on the vowels and consonants,

squishing and scrunching them till they turned into a fine powder. All that was

left exited Santanu’s slack jawed mouth in a meek, ‘Yes’.

  Santanu watched the two of them, his wife and his new born walk out of

the threshold of his house. As the sun set on the horizon, Santanu watched his

wife walk back into his house and into his life, without his son. Her hair and

sari drenched and sticking on her supple body like honey on a mosaic floor.

  ‘What happened? Where is young Vasu?’ Santanu croaked in fear and

desperation.

  ‘He… He drowned’ is all Ganga could utter before she oscillated on her

feet and slumped on the ground like a fallen fabric from the top of a hill. The

sight of his fallen wife brushed aside all thoughts, concerns and grief from the

still young Santanu’s mind, for the time being, as he leapt and rushed by his

wife’s side.  Little did Santanu know at that time that he would witness and

participate in the same conversation with his wife six more times. Six more

times, Ganga bore him a son. And a week after the delivery, the new born and

the mother would go out of the house with only his wife returning and

crumbling on the floor from exhaustion and dried tears coating her cheeks.

Every single one of the seven times, his questions were stonewalled with a

remainder about his promise. For the first three times, Santanu chalked the

loss of his sons to the mysterious and cruel way of the lord.

    Grief can be consumed by a pious mind. But once the grief passes over,

and the mind wills itself to begin functioning the way it was designed to be.

Questions get raised, questions which don’t accept negative for an answer,

questions which are powerful enough to break and surpass any promise, any

societal law made to protect man and society from corrupting itself.

    After so, when Ganga stood up again to leave, with his fourth, fifth and

sixth son, gumming away at her dark brown tit. Santanu spent spies to follow

his wife and report back to him. Report back to him with answers to questions

which had haunted him for the last seven years of his life. The only condition

on Santanu would allow for the cyclone of questions which ravaged the insides

of heart, mind, body and soul to subside, was the safe return of his son and his

wife.  But neither did his sons return, nor did the spies. All that returned was

his wife, still young, still beautiful. Still wet and tasting of salt water. And still

fainting the moment she crossed over the threshold of her house.

  When the midwife cried, ‘It’s a boy!’ for the eighth time, Santanu’s

patience had run out of its limitless bounty.

  So when after a week, Ganga lifted the eighth son from his cradle and

started to walk out of the house, Santanu’s love and patience towards his wife

vaporized.

  ‘Where do you think you are going?’ Santanu thundered as he stood

menacingly in the doorway.

  ‘Out’ Ganga haughtily replied.


  ‘Well, you are not going out anywhere. Not till you tell me where you are

going. And my son is most certainly not going with you.’

  ‘Don’t you remember your promise to me my love?’ Ganga softened her

voice and her gaze as she cradled what she considered a parasite suckling at

her raw and sore mammilla.

  ‘I do. Oh! I do. You may go wherever you please. I don’t care. I don’t want

to know, whether you wish to tell me or not. But… You are not going anywhere

with my son.’ Santanu scoffed and tried wrestling with his wife for the custody

of his child.  ‘Are you sure love?’ Ganga raised her eyebrow once again. The same

raised eyebrow which for the last seven years of their married life had managed

to shut up Santanu and his incessant questions.

  ‘Sure about what? And you can lower your eyebrow. That is not going to

work on me anymore. I have never questioned you. But you have both tested

my patience and my love for you. And I am afraid that I am bankrupt on both

of these accounts.’

  ‘So be it then.’ Ganga retorted in an icy cold tone as she relinquished the

baby to Santanu.

  ‘So be what?’ Santanu cradled the kid and checked it diligently for any

bodily harm.

  ‘Now that you have decided that this abominable creature is more

important than me. Ask me all the questions you always wanted to ask me,

because, never again shall you lay your eyes on me after today.’ Ganga replied

as she composed herself and found a swing on which she sat herself and

kicked herself off the ground. Santanu called for the chambermaid and handed

over the young child and instructed her to take care of him.

  ‘Well, go on. I know you are just aching to interrogate me’ Ganga mocked

and chided her husband.

  ‘Having trouble getting started? Well, let me help out my husband one

last time’ Ganga spat out her frustration and anger at her husband.  ‘I was born into a high and mighty family. From a very young age, people

have always been commending me on my beauty and my intelligence. And for

long, I was the happiest girl in the whole wide world. Soon, as people predicted,

I grew into a young and beautiful teenager. Young boys and grown men ogled

at me when I went prancing about, glowing under their lecherous gaze. But

then, my parents decided to ruin everything. They decided to have another

child. They wanted a son to take forth their family name, because the law and

the society, made by hypocritical people like you. Believes that only a son is

worthy of carrying forward the family name. Not a daughter. But I was too

young to recognize this hypocrisy. So I let things be the way they were. But

when my brother was born, suddenly all the love and attention which I was

accustomed to being showered on me by parents… Suddenly dried up! Just

like that’ Ganga snapped her fingers to underline the suddenness of things.

  ‘So, I did what any sane person who is faced with competition does. I

took out the competition.’ Ganga smiled sinisterly, her eyes gazing the floor

affectionately as she ran the nostalgic images in her mind’s eye.

  ‘What did you mean you took the competition?’ Santanu inquired

worriedly.

  ‘I mean. I killed him. He was a puny little thing. Always crying and

calling out either to my mother or father. So I dropped him from his cradle,

repeatedly, till he stopped crying.’ Ganga grinned as she looked Santanu

squarely in the eye, watching him gasp.  ‘My father didn’t suspect anything. But my mother knew that I had

something to do with it. And so, I was thrown out of my own house for claiming

for what was truly mine.’ Ganga spoke with a tinge of sadness.

  ‘What did you do to my sons? To our sons?’ Santanu pleaded with tears

brimming from his eyes. He had a sneaking idea but he wanted to hear the

truth, the harsh and bitter truth from his wife.

  ‘I wasn’t lying when I said they drowned. What I didn’t tell you was that I

drowned them.’ Ganga looked incredulously at her husband, a wide grin pasted

on her face, and her eyebrows raised in surprise at the question.

  ‘Get out. Get out of my sight.’ Santanu muttered under his breath and

the streaming tears which glacially slid down his cheeks and merged with his

quivering mustache.

  ‘But, don’t you enjoy the peace in the house? None of the howling and

crying? Don’t you like the fact that you and me can enjoy uninterrupted

coitus?’ Ganga inquired as she saw the man she once loved and considered her

husband cry like a violent river.

  ‘GET OUT OF MY SIGHT! GET OUT! JUST GET OUT!’ Santanu screamed,

his eyes red, nostrils flaring as he drew upon all the effort, all the emotion that

was left in his already drained body.

                                     :

 ‘My mother was a proper A – grade bitch. I still carry around my hatred

for her like a well concealed guilt studded noose around my neck.’ Dipanshu’s

voice cracked with fury and choked with the wave of teary emotions which

threatened to drown his being in silence. Drained of energy and emotion,

Dipanshu closed his eyes and soon enough was sleeping the headache off.  6

  The piercing sound of Dipanshu’s mobile phone competed with the

‘Hello?’ Dipanshu groggily barked into the phone. The screen tilted ever so

slightly to face Dipanshu. The voice bounced off the walls like an angry laser

light being hoaxed in a room full of mirrors.

  ‘What? He did what now?’ Dipanshu barked into the phone, all traces of

sleep vaporizing from his voice. The woman fiddled around with the dials,

trying her best to catch what the voice on the other end of the phone was

saying. All she could hear was a broken voice and snippets of the conversation.

The cellphone signal was causing interference with the machine’s audio. Like a

mobile phone causing interference with the radio signals.

  ‘Pandey … accidentally shot… hiding and very scared…’ the voice on the

other side of the phone spoke hurriedly. Despite the interference, the fear in

the voice was unmistakable.

  ‘Have the cops been told about this yet?’ Dipanshu stared at the screen

absentmindedly as his mind raced to find the best course of action to

safeguard the interest of his company.

  ‘No…’


  ‘Tell him to go and hide in our summer retreat house and await further

instructions. Draft a press release indicating that Pandey is temporarily

stepping down from his post has CEO and Chairman of the company due to a recent health scare. And in his absence you will take over his place and will be

ably assisted by me.’ Dipanshu curtly instructed the voice on the other end of

the phone. Dipanshu caught his reflection around the edges of the metal

casing around non-reflective screen. His eyebrows burrowed against each other

deepening the wrinkles on his face. The old age he saw mirrored belied the

youthful energy he felt surging through his veins.

  ‘Shareholders…’


  ‘Tell them to shut the fuck up! If they have a problem with you being

blind… then tell them to take it up with me. Do you understand me? Deepak?’

Dipanshu voice bristled across the airwaves with spit flying out of his mouth

like armed nuclear warheads.

  ‘Okay uncle’ Deepak spoke, in a mix of competing emotions.


  ‘Our aim right now should be to make sure that none of this affects the

family or the company. I shouldn’t explain to you what news of this nature

means.’ Dipanshu spoke, composing himself, before answering himself. ‘even

the vague rumor of a CEO and a Chairman of a company being involved in a

murder. Leave alone the murder of a husband and a wife is more than enough

to bring down a company. Any company. And those vultures will do anything to

tarnish the name of Hastings & Purre. And I am not letting that happen. Not

when I am alive’.  ‘Don’t worry uncle. I will sort this’ Deepak’s response came through

garbled but just clear enough for the woman to hear and understand.

  ‘Call me back in an hour’s time. I need to time to think of the proper

course of action. And put a hold on that press release for now.’ with that

Dipanshu hung up.

  Dipanshu saw the incomplete text and blinking cursor flashing on the

screen and cursed under his breath.

  ‘Call up Vinod from PR and tell him to feed the following the story to the

tabloids. The couple were trespassing and copulating in the open and it was all

happening on our property in Shire. Pandey told them to cover themselves up

and leave, but both the man and the woman resisted. Pandey shot them in self

defense. This is the basic outline. Vinod will know how to iron out any kinks in

the story. Also tell him that Pandey will surrender himself to the local

authorities. Tell the press officer to release the statement from Pandey stating

that given the unfortunate situation, he is stepping down from his position as

CEO and Chairman of Hastings & Purre. And in his place, you are going to

take over. Tell her to make it look like Pandey is confident that despite your

handicap of being blind and under the able guidance of me, Hastings & Purre

will continue to work and function as a company extraordinaire. Have the

attorney draw up papers accordingly. Make sure that Pandey signs this before

the cops throw him in Jail. Tell Vinod to overlook Pandey’s surrender and make

sure that he is out of the lockup by end of day. And tell him to make sure that Pandey is not seen anywhere near Hastings & Purre. It will only bring more bad

press. Got that? Good.’ satisfied with Deepak’s mumble of a response,

Dipanshu hung up.

  Dipanshu knew the courts would have closed for the day and the judges

would have retired and poured themselves a drink by now. But he knew Vinod,

he trusted him. Vinod was the ultimate fixer. And Vinod would come through

for him again. Dipanshu couldn’t help but find his attention drawn towards the

blinking cursor. He sighed in resignation, tired from the furious battle which

his mind waged to maintain the delicate balance between sanity and insanity.

  ‘Moturam… You are probably going to be the only reason why I will

continue to be sane. We will continue with our work tomorrow. Hopefully Vinod

sorts things out and Deepak doesn’t fuck up any more than his half brother.

Maybe the story of these half brother’s fathers may give answers as to why they

are the way they are.’ Dipanshu confided conspiratorially.

                                     :

  ‘I hope in all of these stories, you find the peace Dipanshu. Because I

sure am not going to give an ounce of it’ the woman whispered, her jaws

clenching and her eyes closing onto each other like little slits.  7

  Having sorted the problem of his late stepbrother’s son, Dipanshu sat

again to dictate the tale.

                                   :

  There once lived a poor, honest and a childless couple along the banks of

a river. Both husband and wife worked as night soil collectors. On one such

occasion, as they trundled through piles and piles of human excrement, they

found an aborted fetus. Saddened by the cruelty of the rich and overjoyed with

their find, they nursed and nourished the fetus long enough for the fetus to

grow up into a beautiful young girl. They named the girl Satya.

  Time hurried along in a montage of love, laughter and togetherness.

Satya was given all the luxury which the poor couple could afford. And soon,

young Satya had grown into a fine woman and it was time for her parents to

start the search for a worthy groom. Not wanting to see their beautiful

daughter become a night soil collector like them, or marry one, they scavenged,

saved and managed to buy a horse carriage as dowry. But Satya, unaware of

the circumstances in which she was born in, found it depressing that every

single one of the one hundred and twenty seven suitors who had come to see

her at the request of her parents rejected her. The reason was always the same.

  ‘She stinks. She smells like cat poo. Ugh!’ they exclaimed and on they

went to find a woman who didn’t smell to marry. Much to her parents’ dismay, Satya started using the horse carriage to ferry people and goods from the

railway station.

    On one such journey in her horse carriage, Satya met Prakash, a young

doctor sent to finish his residency in the village. Prakash, owing to a severe

olfactory defect, didn’t find the troublesome smell a problem. Smitten by the

beautiful Satya, he began earnestly wooing her but was spurned away every

time.

    ‘A man so educated and revered like you Prakash sahib should not lust

after a lowly woman like me’ Satya liked Prakash’s company, but the hurt and

insecurity she carried with regards to her body odor stopped her from giving

into Prakash’s relentless pursuit.

    ‘So you don’t like the way you smell? Is that it? Why didn’t you tell me so

before?’ Prakash chortled as he held a whimpering Satya in his arms having

given up the tiresome task of undoing her brassier.

    ‘The next time I come back from the city, I shall carry with me the most

beautiful of all smells…’ Prakash spoke as Satya pulled her buried face from

his hairy chest and looked expectedly at him.

    ‘Perfume made out of musk my love. I shall get you a big bottle of it, so

big in fact, that it will never get over. Does my love like that?’ Prakash looked

expectedly at Satya. Seeing her smile, he leaned for a kiss for her to turn her

face away at the last moment like a seasoned tease.  ‘First get the bottle of perfume made of musk and then we shall see.’

Satya giggled and ran away, leaving behind a frustrated and callous handed

Prakash.

     Couple of days later, Prakash walked out to see Satya standing outside

the railway station looking for passengers who may choose to ride in her horse

carriage. His pace made slow by the big bottle of perfume he carried in his

suitcase. The horse carriage had not moved a hundred feet when Prakash

lunged at Satya whose attention was divided between the big bottle of perfume

and the road.

     ‘Sshhh… Somebody will see us. Not now, I will come to your lodge after

the sun sets and my parents have gone to sleep’ she promised. Prakash

reluctantly agreed to her condition once again. He stood the entire day, waiting,

massaging his severely calloused hands and willing for the sun to set sooner

than what the metrological department had estimated. He finally saw Satya

sneaking past the receptionist and making her way to his room. He threw up

the door to his room and his arms.

     As their lips met, the thunderous volcano Prakash had for weeks

nurtured between his loving hands erupted. Prakash was taking his time to

savor the delicious body presented to him only to be stopped by Satya once

again.

     ‘Prakash, I know at the end of the month you will go back to your life in

the city and I will be left with the shame of having lost my virginity.’  ‘Satya, my love, are you going to give me the age old dialogue of how

virginity is all a poor girl has got to give to her husband?’ Prakash inquired as

he nuzzled his head between Satya’s generous globes of fun.

  ‘Yes. As a matter of fact I was’ Satya replied as she forcefully grabbed

Prakash’s hair and pulled him up to face her.

  ‘Don’t you worry darling, I am a doctor. Nobody will ever know about our

coitus.’

  ‘How is that possible?’


  ‘Love, I majored in plastic surgery. Then I fucked a really rich woman’s

breasts. So the hospital administration fired me.’

  ‘Plastic surgery? What is that?’


  ‘People in the city think that their skins are made out of plastic and that

they can mould it any which way they please’

  ‘Is the skin really like plastic?’ Satya questioned incredulously.


  ‘Of course not, but you sure can mould it any which way you please. You

can even have eternal youthfulness because of it’

  ‘No that is just not possible’


  ‘Well of course it is. I will teach you how to do that tomorrow’ Prakash

suggested as he undid her knot on her skirt.  ‘But… What if I get pregnant?’

  ‘I am a doctor love, not a magic wielding sage from the yore. But if you do

get pregnant think of the genes he shall inherit, your beauty and my brains. He

will make for the perfect beast’ Prakash joked as he slid a finger and wet itself

in the rivulet flowing between her legs.

  As promised, Prakash taught her the application of face tightening gels

and resealed the broken hymen before leaving back to the city for good. And as

Satya feared, she gave birth to a son. She named him Vikas. For a fleeting

second, Satya did entertain the thought of killing the new born, but like the

cliché goes, love is blind. And no love is blinder than the love a mother has for

her son. And so she nurtured the young boy for seven years before twisting

Prakash’s hands to get him admitted to a residential school in the city. As the

train left the platform and a teary eyed Satya behind, the son promised that he

would come rushing to his mother’s aid every time she called for him.

                                       :

  From a very young age, Dev was told about his mother’s psychotic nature

and his seven dead brothers. It is not too difficult to tarnish the image of

somebody who you haven’t seen or met. A mother’s love cannot be replaced by

the love and caring of a chambermaid and Dev was made aware of it in the

cruelest of manners by his friends. Propelled and torn between the informed hate towards his mother and the longing he felt for maternal love saw Dev grow

up faster than his age would allow.

  As the sun and moon danced around each other in a perennial face off

and the seasons changed, Santanu took pride the way Dev was growing into a

handsome young man. Santanu couldn’t help noticing that the older Dev got,

the greater was his resemblance to his mother. With each passing day, the

memories of his wife, the touch of her hands, the smell of her skin, the

titillating glances exchanged, the rush of blood to his loins at the thought of

her curvaceous waist grew stronger along with his son.

  And so, Santanu decided to take a much deserved break, and rode on his

horse in search for fresh air and a place far away from the memories of his

wife. He rode for hours together, feeling the wind rejuvenate his aging body.

The sights and sounds consigned Santanu’s thoughts about the youth he lost

and the life he still had left to live to oblivion. As Santanu and his steed rode on

for hours, losing themselves in the moment, the sound of water gently lapping

at the shore in the background suddenly reminded the two of them about their

thirst.

  As things often happen in life, when one lets go of all hope does the

universe conspires to throw a safety line with a heavy price attached to it in

fine print. As the two of them, Santanu and his horse kneeled in front of the

river to drink water, the strong smell of musk tickled both their nostrils.

Curiosity and excitement coursed in the both the animal’s veins like a whole sale shopping rush. Guided by their noses, they chased the sweet smell of

musk like addicts chasing their high. Before long, both Santanu and the horse

found themselves in the presence of a young and a nubile woman. Out of

trepidation and a sense of déjà vu, Santanu didn’t approach the young girl. She

looked like a woman he had once loved and lost. Even before Santanu could

make up his mind, his heart had already made up its mind. And so the quartet

of Santanu, his mind, heart and the horse followed the girl back to her hut.

  Had Freud been an invisible observer of Santanu’s actions, he would

have commented that, ‘For a man of Santanu’s stature, seeking a young, nubile

fisherwoman showed a fetish for being punished. Santanu felt that he didn’t

deserve either the power or the stature, both which rightfully belonged to his

elder brothers. The fisher folk, socially considered to occupy the lowest rung in

the hierarchy, was where Santanu believed he truly belonged. It was the reason

why Santanu had hurriedly married Ganga. And it will not be a coincidence that

Santanu would approach the father of this fisherwoman to seek her hand in

marriage. This infliction which Santanu suffers from makes him ignore any

warning signs he may come across in his potential mates.’

  ‘Dear Sir, I, Santanu, son of Late Zamindar Pratap of Kuru village.

Brother of Devapi and Balika, wish to seek your daughter’s hand in marriage’

  ‘You mean Satyavati?’ The old grizzly fisherman scratched his head,

puzzled by the strange request by an equally strange and old man. Hearing the exchange taking place outside the hut, the young girl stepped out. Santanu

lowered his eyes to hide his blushing cheeks from the curious gaze of the girl.

  ‘Oh!’ the grizzly old man exclaimed as he read the situation, like a man

who has seen his share of the world and experienced the gamut of emotions

possible to feel in a single lifetime. A man who had turned cynical, shrewd and

manipulative

  ‘Satyavati, don’t just stand there, offer our guest something to drink and

a place to sit’ he ordered the girl Santanu referred to as his daughter.

  ‘I am honored to have you as my guest your honor. But I am afraid I

can’t accede to your request, honored that I am by it. But my answer would

have be no’ The old man drawled like a seasoned hustler drawing his mark into

the trap.

  ‘But why?’ Santanu took the bait like a naïve fish mesmerized by the

curious and frantic wriggling of the worm.

  ‘Well sire, you being a father, you will understand that I would like to

marry my daughter to a man who will treat my daughter as the center of his

universe. But sir, for a man his child is the center of the universe and not the

wife. I don’t mean to disrespect you, but my answer is no.’

  ‘But I do promise that your daughter will be treated nothing less than a

queen. She will be the centre of my universe’ Santanu tried convincing the

grizzly old man.  ‘Well sir, words have their place and actions have theirs. Me being a poor

man don’t hold much value to plain words. You can marry my daughter on the

condition that when she bears you sons, they will be the ones who will be

considered as your true heirs. If you agree to this, then I would immediately

begin preparations for the wedding’ the grizzly old man countered, well aware

of Santanu’s predicament. Everybody around the seven villages knew about it.

  ‘I understand sir. Sorry to trouble you’ Santanu took leave, dejected and

depressed, he rode back home. Santanu had vowed to himself that he would

always protect his son and would always put his son’s wishes and wellbeing

above his own. The fickle mind of a man in love does a mighty good job of

rewriting old hurtful memories with dreams of a hopeful future.

  ‘What is the matter father?’ Dev inquired as he saw his father walk in

with a heavy heart and a sad smile on his face.

  ‘Oh nothing son’ Santanu brushed away the question with a nonchalant

shrug of his shoulders. Santanu, having made amends with his heart and

sacrificed his own happiness for his son’s was content with spending hours

watching Satyavati from a distance. But his father’s evasive response every

time he returned home in the evening for weeks worried Dev. It wasn’t long

before Dev got to know the full story behind his father’s peculiar behavior.

  ‘Dear sir, I Devavrata, son of Santanu, I come here on behalf of my father

to ask your daughter’s hand in marriage.’  ‘Ha! Ha! Ha!’ The grizzly old man guffawed before continuing, ‘fine family

you guys are. First the father comes to marry my daughter and then the son

wishes to do the same’

  ‘Hold your tongue old man before I whip you to death with it’ Dev

thundered, before composing himself.

  ‘I am sorry. I am come to ask your daughter’s hand in marriage to my

father’ Dev repeated himself.

  ‘Son, I will repeat the same thing I said to your father. He is more than

welcome to marry my daughter. Why, we would be more than happy and

honored to see her marry into a fine family like yours, but…’ The old grizzly old

man paused, trying to ascertain the young man’s reaction. Dev remained

silent, waiting for the grizzly old man to continue.

  ‘There is only one condition I have. And that is, the sons my daughter

bears for your father will succeed him and not you.’

  ‘Is that all?’ Dev inquired, wanting to make sure that there was no fine

print which the grizzly old man had omitted.

  ‘Yes. That is all my son.’


  ‘Then, I declare, keeping you and my managers here present as witness

that I give my wholehearted consent to your condition.’ Dev vowed with his

right hand raised.  ‘Son, I would like to believe you. But you see, we poor people don’t put

too much value to these promises. Also, what if you get married and your

children fight with my daughter’s for what they will rightfully consider their

own’ the grizzly old man answered. And in that one instant Dev realized the

extent to which he was giving away control of the estate he had grown to love.

    ‘Well sir, then find a doctor of your choosing, and I shall undergo

vasectomy to prove that neither I nor my children will ever stand in the way of

your daughter and her yet to be born children’ Dev thundered, his voice heavy

with emotion. His mother had robbed his father of his peace and happiness

and Dev didn’t want to be remembered as the reason why he couldn’t enjoy a

happy marital life.

    ‘I admire your devotion to your father son.’ The grizzly old man

commented, visibly impressed with Dev’s resolution, ‘This is a grave resolution

you have undertaken my son. I can tell that you are meant for greatness. And

I hope you treat my daughter like your own mother and her children as your

own.’

    ‘Very well then, give me two days time to arrange for the wedding and

ensure that my step mother’s abode is ready for her. In the mean time, you can

decide on the doctor and on the third day, my father will marry your daughter

Satyavati’

    ‘Very well then’ the grizzly old man extended his hand to shake on the

gentlemen’s agreement.  ‘What have you done?’ Santanu inquired with tears strolling down his

cheeks as he rushed to greet his son.

  ‘I did what any son would do for his father, father’ Dev replied.


  ‘Oh son you shouldn’t have. You are still young, you still have an entire

lifetime left for you to enjoy all that the world has to offer’ Santanu cried.

  ‘You not only gave birth to me father, but also saved me from certain

death. This is the least I can do. Now go forth and tell me the manner in which

you wish to get married.’ Dev replied with a smile. Santanu torn between the

love he felt surging in his aging loins for Satyavati and the promise he had

made to protect the interests of his son, relented to his son’s demands. After all

it was his son who wished him to get married to Satyavati he reasoned.

                                      :

  ‘Ha! I knew that my mother-in-law was a conniving whore. Go on

Dipanshu, tell me more.’ The woman cackled and coughed as the cigarette

smoke came out in bursts of evil mirth.  8

  Santanu lived long enough to father two sons with Satyavati,

Chitrangada and Vichitvarya. Just before his demise, Santanu made Dev

promise that he would look after the young boys as his own and treat Satyavati

as his own mother.

  After his father’s demise, for years, Dev helped Satyavati to raise her two

sons, and run the estate till they came of age. Chirtangada, being the eldest

and the able of the two brothers was soon shown the reins to handle the vast

and growing estate of Hastinapur. The youngest, Vichitvarya, was soft in the

head and by default, his mother’s favorite.

  Power, is like a strong willed woman. It makes different men behave in

various different ways. While some men get drunk on it, some men spend their

entire lives trying to shun and deny its existence. Some men learn to grown

powerful enough to control its wild side, while some men let it run to their

heads and ruin them and everything they hold dear to them. He was an

ambitious young man, having grown under the shadow of Dev, his step

brother, the need to show his might was strong in him. With the assistance of

Dev, Chitrangada diversified the estate and set up distilleries, corn mills,

gambling dens, rice mills, wheat mills and established the illicit liquor trade.

The wider the estate of Hastinapur spread itself, the stronger did Chitrangada’s

love affair with power get.  But with great power comes great hordes of people whose toes have been

trampled. Chitrangada was ruthless and blind in his thirst for more power. He

usurped land from poor farmer folk and industrialized it with astonishing

speed. Whoever challenged him or voiced the option of approaching higher

authorities with regards to Chitrangada’s illegal ways was duly dealt with. Dev

watched his step brother wreck havoc in silence. People considered Dev to be

the more just and kind. They had loved him and had awarded him with their

love, respect and loyalty. Dev attempts to convince Satyavati and Chitrangada

to slow down the speed of expansion fell on deaf ears. He feared that any

further attempts from him to dissuade his step mother and brother would lead

to questions being raised about his loyalty to his family. Chitrangada’s ruthless

reign and thirst for power continued, unchecked.

  Satyavati, in the meantime had arrived at the motherly conclusion that

the time was ripe to get her two sons married to suitable family. Being a

mother, Satyavati was well aware of her younger son, Vichitvarya’s fondness for

Kasi’s daughter. Kasi was another businessman whose estate and worth

equaled that of Hastinapur. Using weapons which every woman possesses and

wields with devastating effect, beauty and emotional blackmail, she urged Dev

to go initiate talks with Kasi on her sons and her behalf. Ever the obedient and

devout step son, Dev immediately sent word to Kasi about his wish to take

audience with him and commenced on his journey.  With the news of his impending marriage, Chitrangada’s ruthlessness

only grew more coldblooded. For long he had sent his messengers to a farmer

living at the outskirts to relinquish their land holding, but every time the

farmer refused the offer of a buyout citing the importance of the single source

of livelihood, he, his young son and ailing wife depended on. Chitrangada’s

patience ran out and soon enough, he had his mercenaries take care of the

farmer and relieve his ailing wife of her pain and suffering. The mercenaries got

the dead farmer’s thumbprints on the deed which established Chitrangada’s

ownership of the small piece of land the farmer called his own. The farmer’s

son, witnessed the execution of his parents in silence and vowed revenge on

Chitrangada. He bid his time, planning and plotting the death of the man he

blamed for ruining his life. Chitrangada had one weakness, after every single

merger and acquisition, he liked to unwind in his office and get himself drunk

like a skunk while looking at the profit figures which the chartered account

would place on his table every day. For days, the young boy stalked his enemy.

On one such opportune moment, the young boy sneaked into Chitrangada’s

office and slit his throat wide open and rushed to the nearest police station to

surrender.

  The message from Dev reached Kasi two days before Dev arrived at his

doorstep. Kasi was a father to three daughters, Amba, Ambika and Ambalika.

And like any father of a daughter, he worried about the safety of his daughters’

lives and their well being. Well aware of Satyavati and her son’s increasing

tyranny, had vowed to himself that he would rather see his daughters marry a kind pauper than a cruel rich man and a retard. And so he hastily arranged for

potential suitors to come and meet his daughters. The news enraged the

otherwise calm Dev to no end and he in turn kidnapped the three daughters of

Kasi. Let his step mother decide which of the two girls her sons should marry.

  Unaware of the happenings back in Hastinapur, Dev had expected his

mother to have showered him with high praise and celebrate his return.

Instead, he was met with a distraught mother grieving the murder of her son.

The news of Kasi’s behavior had reached Satyavati’s ears before Dev could

reach Hastinapur. Incensed by her son’s death and insulted by Kasi and hurt

by his comment about her son being a retard, she commanded Dev to exact

revenge on her son’s murderer and announced that Vichitvarya would not

marry Kasi’s daughters but keep them as his concubines.

  Ambika and Ambalika, underage and scared of the woman who smelled

like musk and looked no older than their eldest sister Amba relented. As Dev

ushered the girls to their bedrooms, Amba, Kasi’s eldest daughter told Dev

about the young and handsome Salve. The man who she had given her heart

and virginity to, and begged him to let her go and be with him. She explained

that he was present in the assembly of young suitors who had come to ask her

father for her hand and how she was going to say yes to him. Tears shed by a

woman have the power to move stubborn mountains out of their way, and poor

Dev was a mere mortal. He called in for his best man and asked him to ensure

that Amba reached Salve’s place safely. He also realized that sending Amba back to Salve would mean that Kasi would realize that his daughters have not

been harmed and over the course of time, Kasi would make his peace with

Hastinapur. He had no other choice, Hastinapur was the greatest living

business empire in the country, and to survive, one needed to keep the

caretakers of Hastinapur happy.

   Amba silently sneaked into Salve’s room with a smile on her face, late

into the night, hoping to surprise him. She knew he would be distraught with

grief, and she did like to torture poor Salve, the way young and beautiful

women assert their power on helplessly in love men. And sure enough she

found Salve pacing the floor of his room.

   ‘Hello?’ Amba cheekily addressed her amour hoping that she gets swept

off her feet.

   ‘You?’ Salve questioned, surprised by her sudden presence in his room.

The frown on Salve’s face only deepened further worrying Amba.

   ‘Aren’t you happy to see me again? Especially after the way I was

abducted by those wild animals in broad daylight’ Amba replied as she made

her way to seat herself on his bed.

   ‘I guess’ Salve replied, trying hard not to make eye contact with her.


   ‘What happened to you my love? I risked my life to get here’ She wrapped

her hands around Salve’s neck. Salve stepped back, his face contorting and brushed himself like he had been touched by a caterpillar. Salve’s cruel

reaction to her touch stunned Amba.

  ‘What the fuck is your problem?’ Amba demanded.


  ‘You say you escaped and came here. How am I supposed to know that

you didn’t barter your escape with a sexual favor? I should know how adept

you are with your tongue and body.’ Salve spoke, hurt and anger underlining

every single vowel and consonant in his voice.

  ‘They say he has taken a vow of celibacy. There exists no man capable of

fulfilling that vow. They say he is a sexual deviant. God knows what dastard

things he made you do. And I bet you would have enjoyed it as well.’

  ‘How dare you?’ Amba’s voice thundered, ‘You didn’t have balls to put up

a fight while they carried me away, right in front of you. And now… Now you

have the gall to question my integrity? You don’t deserve me!’ Amba slapped

hard across Salve’s cheek, and strode out of Salve’s room. Her eyes blazing

with fury and made her way back to her father’s place.

  ‘You are back!’ Kasi cried in joy as he rushed to comfort his eldest

daughter, who stood at his doorstep, hair in a mess, red eyes and tears

streaming down her cheeks.

  ‘Where are your sisters?’ Kasi inquired as he hugged and his eyes

searched the empty doorway.  ‘They are still there… In Hastinapur’ she managed the words amidst

violent sobs. No sooner had she finished uttering the words, her father broke

the embrace and looked questioningly at his daughter.

  ‘What do you mean they are still in Hastinapur? How did you manage to

get out of there? Why aren’t your sisters with you? Amba… Answer me my

child’ Kasi urged his daughter to answer the torrent of questions which only a

worried father can bombard a child in distress.

  ‘I asked Dev to let me go. I didn’t give a thought about my sisters father.

And Salve refused to accept me. He doubted my integrity father.’ Amba broke

down, again and called upon her fast emptying reservoir of tears as she

recounted the tale.

  ‘I…’ Kasi found it difficult to frame sentences, his mind numb from the

onslaught of information and his heart torn between rage and sadness.

  ‘How could you put your selfish wants above that of your sisters Amba?

They are young and naïve. They looked upto you like their own mother. Oh

lord! Is this what happens when a man tries to raise a daughter on his own?’

Kasi questioned, his arms stretched towards the skies, demanding answers,

‘does a mother forget about her children?’. It was Kasi’s turn to break down.

Having his daughters taken away from him had hurt him, but his daughter’s

actions had shattered him, leaving a shell of a man and a father.  ‘Go back! Go and get my daughters back.’ Kasi steeled himself and

commanded Amba.

  By the time Amba reached Hastinapur, Dev had exacted revenge for

Chitrangada’s murder and a mock wedding between Ambika, Ambalika and

Vichitvarya had already taken place.

  ‘Oh! You are back. Your sisters were missing you a lot. But they seem to

like young Vichitvarya’ Dev noticed her presence and shifted his gaze back at

the young kids gleefully playing with each other. For a long time she watched

her sisters play with Vichitvarya. Vichitvarya smiled and laughed like an

injured puppy being nursed back to health. Both Ambika and Ambalika took

great pleasure in grooming and tickling him in turns. She realized that for

them, Vichitvarya was just an animated doll.

  ‘Don’t they look happy?’ Dev commented as he shifted his gaze back to

Amba.

  ‘They do’ she replied, biting her lips, not knowing how to borach the

subject she had come to speak about.

  ‘Is Salve happy with your return?’ Dev innocently inquired. Mention of

her amour made her proud shoulder drop to the floor and bought fresh tears to

her eyes as she slowly recounted her tale.

  ‘You must marry me now Dev. My father won’t accept me, neither will

Salve. Nobody wants me, and if I continue to stay unmarried, it will bring certain death to my father and tarnish his name long after he is gone. And I

can’t marry Vichitvarya. He is…’ Amba pleaded.

  ‘Retarded?’ Dev clenched his teeth and spat out the word, ‘Listen, I am

sad to hear about your story. I really am. But I am afraid there is not much I

can do to help you.’

  ‘Even if I do decide to marry you, I can’t consummate our marriage. And

what good is a marriage if one can’t consummate it. Go and speak with Salve. I

am sure he will understand his folly and take you back’

  ‘I don’t want to go back to him’ Amba hissed.


  ‘Well then, I can’t help you. Sorry’ Dev walked out, leaving the three kids

to continue playing and Amba seething behind.

  As Amba made her way out of Hastinapur, hatred coursed through her

veins. Her mind held Dev responsible for her homeless state. Her heart and

soul bayed for revenge and Dev’s blood. She vowed that before she died, she

would bring forth his demise and all that he held dear.

                                    :

  The sound of loud clapping and the cackle of laughter filled and

reverberated across the four walls and multiple computer screens which

adorned them.  ‘You remember me… I would have thought you forgot about me

Dipanshu. But you continue to surprise me. Hats off to you Dipanshu! Not only

are you master strategist, but also a fine story teller. And I am glad that you

remember me. And it is fine tale you are narrating here. But what surprises me

the most is how close to the truth you are. If only you knew how close you are

to me and death. I shall exact my revenge Dipanshu. But before I kill you, I am

going to ruin everything… everything, including Hastings & Purre. You think

Pandey accidently shot that couple? Ha! Ha! Ha! If only you knew the truth’

Amrita spoke loudly as she continued clapping and laughing. She watched

Dipanshu on her screen review the dictated text and reward himself with a stiff

drink.  9

  Dipanshu was rudely woken up with the loud noise of his phone

vibrating itself off his bed stand. As he groggily placed the battery back in and

switched on the phone, he saw the missed call listing which had led the phone

to jump. And like a man replete with good manner, he gave a resigned sigh and

called back.

  ‘Good morning mother. Sorry, the phone fell down before I could answer

it’ Dipanshu spoke as he tried his best to brush the deep raspy quality from his

morning voice.

  ‘Dipanshu, you know I am growing old, Pandey and Deepak have come

off age. I think it is time they got married. Don’t you think?’ Dipanshu heard

his step mother, Satya’s voice a decibel or two too high as he glanced at his

watch. He sighed when he realized it had just turned five in the morning.

Amrita too woke up as she heard Dipanshu’s voice and the crackling

interference filled woman’s voice emanate from her speakers. The hair under

the nape of her neck bristled with fury as she recognized the voice.

  ‘Yes mother’ Dipanshu replied.


  ‘Sad what happened to Pandey, I always did tell him to be careful

whenever he went hunting. I hope he is well looked after. I would like to see

him soon’.  ‘Yes mother, I will make suitable arrangements for us to visit him today.

And I think it would be best if we discussed their marriage plans with them. I

will in the meantime make a list of eligible girls and the boys can make their

choice’ Dipanshu suggested.

  ‘That sounds like a splendid idea Dipanshu. I shall expect the car to

come and pick me up say, around ten?’

  ‘Yes mother’ Dipanshu meekly replied before he heard the line go dead

on the other side. He didn’t understand why he still said ‘yes’ to her, when it

was common knowledge that whatever she wanted she got and Dipanshu didn’t

really have the luxury or the option to say no.

  ‘Good morning Moturam. Doesn’t look like I will get to spend time with

you today’ Dipanshu expressed his sadness as he greeted the expensive and

elephantine looking speech to text converter resting in the corner of the room.

  ‘Perfect time for me to upgrade the software on the machine, can’t be

having any more interference with these annoying phone calls now can we.

Also, I think it is time we sent dear Dipanshu a gift’ Amrita exclaimed as she

quickly got to work.

                                    :

  Rejected by her lover, thrown out of her own home by her father, and

discarded by her abductor, Amrita wandered for days. She spent her days searching for people whom she had once called as friends or considered as

brothers. At night, she spent curling on pack benches and being accosted by

strange men. Everybody she visited and pleaded to help her avenge the hurt

and shame she had been made to suffer refused. Nobody wanted to take on

Dipanshu, not with the clout Hastings & Purre commanded. Lost but

determined, Amrita armed with the education her father’s money had bought

her, she managed to find work as an admin in a training institute for women.

Slowly and steadily she also taught herself everything there was to learn about

computers. She didn’t know yet how she would exact her revenge, but she

knew she had to do it on her own.

  The closer Anamika and Akansha reached closer to attaining puberty,

the greater did Satya’s worry became. She remembered how she had taken to

exploring her body and how much she had enjoyed her tryst with Prakash. She

feared that the girls would do the same and given Vineet’s condition may

escape or worse create a scandal by engaging in coitus with one of the many

men who worked around the house. In her paranoia, she instructed Dipanshu

to replace all the men with women. Satya wondered and worried for days as

she saw the two girls blossom into fine looking women. She somehow felt

responsible for the of them. They were good girls, they both loved and cared for

Vineet equally, often fighting with each other as they tried to vie for his

attention. Her love for her mentally challenged son and her promise to her late

husband to ensure that the family name continues tore her apart. Till one fine

day she remembered about the son she had forgotten about.  Without Dipanshu’s knowledge, she sent word to Vikas, urging him to

come and help his mother out of the moral quandary she found herself in. As

promised, Vikas rushed to his mother’s aid the very moment he received word.

Satya made arrangements for Vikas to sneak into the house without the

knowledge of Dipanshu’s knowledge.

  ‘I am here mother’ Vikas greeted his mother. Whatever Satya had

imagined Vikas to look after twenty odd years she last saw him, vaporized in

one millionth of a second as she stood flabbergasted at the sight of the man

standing in front of her calling her mother. She took her time to take the sight

of the long haired, pot bellied man with the unmistakable sweat outlined

pendulous breasts. Satya found it hard to believe that the man, who looked

more like a snow woman, standing in front of her was her own son, born out of

her own womb.

  ‘What happened?’ Satya found herself reflexively questioning Vikas and

immediately realizing the crudeness and the rudeness of her tone and

question.

  ‘What happened to you?’ Satya repeated her question, this time in a

much softer and maternal tone as she stepped closer and ran her hands over

his body.

  ‘Well, you know how father is, always up to something. I am his favorite

muse. He gave me these’ Vikas took Satya’s hands and placed them on her

breasts, ‘so that he and I didn’t miss you’. Vikas cast his eyes on the floor, overcome with shyness, ‘or forget you’. Satya tried hard not to flinch as Vikas

pressed her hands tightly against his firm and pert bosom.

  ‘I have missed you. Anyway, enough about me, tell me mother, how are

you? How can I help you?’ Vikas exclaimed and tried changing the topic and

hiding the hurt in his voice as he let go of his mother’s hand. In that instant

Vikas wanted to punch every single person who proclaimed that a mother’s love

was unconditional. Satya quickly told Vikas about the problem she was facing.

  ‘That is a problem mother, but how can I help you in this regard?’ Vikas

asked, puzzled by the whole story.

  ‘I want you to father my grandchildren son. Don’t worry, I have drugged

both the girls. They won’t know what happened.’ Satya spoke as she turned her

head around and avoided eye contact with her son. She knew what she was

asking for both wrong and unbecoming of a mother.

  ‘Mother!’


  ‘That is the only solution I could think of son. And I have been ruining

my health dealing with this problem of months now. This the only way I can

ensure that I fulfill my husband’s last wish and keep the bloodline going

without any scandal’

  ‘Isn’t this scandalous enough mother?’ Vikas retorted.

 ‘Not as scandalous as the way you were born son’ Satya barked, the self

righteous tone of Vikas angered her as it made her aware of her selfish and

cowardly self.

  ‘Fine mother’ Vikas meekly replied and resigned to his situation. Vikas

knew that a child would go to any length and do anything in order to win the

approval of his parents. And Vikas had thirsted for the love of his mother for

twenty odd years.

  ‘Before you go, wear this’ Satya spoke as she extended her hand which

held a hog’s snout with strings attached to it.

  ‘What is this?’ Vikas inquired as he examined the artifact.


  ‘I don’t want anybody to recognize you’ Satya replied, cold and clinical.


  ‘Whatever you say mother’ Vikas tied the pig’s nose around his own and

followed the directions his mother gave him.

  ‘Be sure to leave before the break of dawn. I can’t hide you for long’ She

whispered as Vikas made his way to Akansha’s chambers.

  Akansha always had been a late and a light sleeper. But soon after

dinner, both the girls had felt drowsy and had asked to be excused. Vikas let

himself into her room and found her sound asleep. Vikas quietly undressed

himself and was in the midst of undressing Akansha when she woke up. The

sight of pig faced woman with massive cock is frightening enough on its own,

but to be woken up in a state of undress in your own room, the place you consider sanctum sanctorum is what nightmares are made up of. Still groggy

from the effects of her drug, Akansha closed her eyes and tried hard to fight

back with the demon she feared had manifested from her nightmares. But she

was no match to the much older and much powerful man who lay atop her.

Akansha bit hard into Vikas’s hand which he held over her mouth as he

penetrated her and watched her bleed. Vikas was swimming in a sea of

complex emotions. While he felt guilty desecrating his step brother’s wife, but

at the same time, the sadistic pleasure he felt coursing through his veins was

immense and hard to argue with. He finally climaxed with a grunt and used

Akansha’a torn chemise to wipe the blood and semen off his spigot. With his

adrenaline still pumping hard, he picked up his clothes, leaving Akansha

covered in a pile of tears, blood and semen and made his way into Anamika’s

room. There is no better aphrodisiac than power and control and Vikas knew

that he wouldn’t have any trouble performing couple of more times.

  While Akansha had retired alone to her bed, Anamika being the younger

of the two sisters took along a chambermaid and urged her to sleep next to her.

The chambermaid in the middle of the night suddenly had nature call on her

making it hard for her to continue with her sleep and so she made her way to

bathroom in the servant quarters which was quite a bit far away from

Anamika’s room. Vikas found Anamika sleeping alone, the sight of a young girl

sleeping with her budding bosom heaving with deep sonorous breaths excited

him. Just before he penetrated her, he slapped her awake, the feistiness of her

sister had excited Vikas and he had enjoyed exerting his power over her. And he wished to replicate the sensation he felt once again. The sight of a pig nosed

man with breasts scared Anamika so much that blood receded from her face

and she turned into a fragile sheet of white. As Vikas was wiping his spout

clean of the semen and blood from the younger sister, the chambermaid walked

in. Before the chambermaid could scream and alert the rest of the household,

Vikas lunged at her and had his way with her as well.

  ‘If you tell one word about any of this to anybody, I will hunt you down

and kill you’ He kept muttering the threat in her ears as he moved his hips

vigorously.

  ‘I did what you asked of me mother, and some more. I hate myself and

you for what you have made me into. I am leaving mother. And never shall I

ever return’ Vikas wrote on a piece of paper and slipped underneath the door to

his mother’s bedroom. He was never to be seen again, but people did speak

about him in the coming years. Some referred to him as the Whitechapel

murderer and some referred to him with his more famous moniker, Jack the

Ripper.

  Both Akansha and Anamika had been so traumatized with the

happenings of that night that Akansha refused to open her eyes for weeks and

Anamika’s face continued to remain pale for months. Nobody mentioned

anything despite Dipanshu’s repeated questioning. Unaware of the effect the

trauma they experienced will have on their fetus growing inside their womb.  Before the three women could give birth, Vineet mysteriously contracted

tuberculosis and died a painful death. Ten months after Vikas’s visit, the three

women went into labor on three separate occasions. Akansha was the first one

to go into labor. After seven hours of grueling labor, she finally delivered a blind

son. Akansha knew the reason she was cursed with a blind son was because of

that horrid night where she had forcefully closed her eyes in fear and pain and

willed her mind to. Satya was nevertheless was overjoyed and christened the

blind child with the name Deepak.

  Days later, Anamika gave birth to a son. The doctors reasoned that the

mother had had somehow passed on her trite skin color on to her son and

attributed it to be the reason behind the child being born champagne colored.

Satya’s joy knew no bounds as she held aloft her grandson with no physical

handicaps and proclaimed him as the next heir. She named him Pandey.

  Both Akansha and Anamika died soon after giving birth. The shock, the

trauma and the strain it exerted on their underage bodies drained them of all

of the life source they held within them.

  Meanwhile in the servant quarters, unknown to Satya, the chambermaid

had entered labor. After days, she finally gave birth to a perfectly healthy and

defect free son. She named him Vinod.

  Dipanshu found the events, especially his step mother’s joy to be bit over

the top and suspicious. He didn’t expect his step mother to mourn the death of

Vineet’s wives but he certainly didn’t expect her to jump around in joy and sanction huge bonuses to all those worked for the company. One look at new

borns, who Satya had named Deepak and Pandey, confirmed his worst fears.

Despite what the doctors said, he knew, in the heart of hearts. He knew that

they were not Vineet’s. He didn’t know how to confront his step mother, lest

she accuse of him wanting to usurp Hastings & Purre and disobeying his

father’s wishes and breaking his own vow. To avoid any such occurrence, he

called up a lawyer and made him draw up a new power of attorney in his name

which he will relinquish when Pandey, the physically more capable and better

equipped to run Hastings & Purre of the two brothers, came of age.  10

  No sooner did the car carrying Satya turn around the corner, Dipanshu

grabbed Pandey’s arm and demanded to know the full story.

  ‘Just what the fuck happened Pandey?’


  Pandey had seldom seen Dipanshu lose his cool the way he did, but he

knew he had to come clean lest he was chastised and punished even more than

what he was already suffering.

  ‘Sorry uncle’ Pandey mumbled.


  ‘You still haven’t answered my question son’ Dipanshu retorted,

softening his tone as he leaned against the plush leather sofa. He motioned

towards Vinod and Deepak to take seat. He shifted his gaze back on Pandey

and urged him to begin his tale.

  ‘Well, as usual I left to hunt game early Saturday morning. My friends

who were supposed to accompany me didn’t show up, so I left alone. We had

planned to just hunt for bucks and other harmless creature. I waited patiently

for hours but I heard or saw nothing. Then around high noon, I heard rustling

and saw movement.’

  ‘How far away was this from where you were placed?’ Dipanshu

interrupted.

  ‘Quite far, I would say about hundred… hundred and fifty feet’

 ‘And you were carrying your double barrel?’ Dipanshu fished for details

once again.

    ‘Er… no’ Pandey looked down at the floor, trying to avoid his Dipanshu’s

gaze.

    ‘What do you mean no? Speak up boy!’ Dipanshu spoke through

clenched teeth, trying to keep the rising anger in check.

    ‘I had initially planned on taking the double barrel. But that morning I

realized that firing pin wasn’t working properly. I figured one of the servants

must have damaged it the previous evening when they were cleaning the gun.

So…’ Pandey tried explaining, his eyes looked pleadingly, as it tried buying

compassion from his uncle. Dipanshu kept his silence and waited for Pandey to

continue with his story.

    ‘So I took the Tavor with me’


    ‘You are trying to tell me that you took a goddamn assault rifle to hunt

for game?’ Dipanshu inquired, the look of incredulity on his face prompted

Pandey to explain his innocence further.

    ‘I was tired and getting bored uncle, and the sun was really burning that

day. When the leaves rustled I thought I will put the Tavor in automatic and be

quickly done with it. I didn’t want to return empty handed. I wanted to boast to

my friends and make them feel guilty about missing out on the hunting trip’  ‘So you fired blindly at the bush and stoopped only when you heard the

man and woman scream’ Dipanshu took a deep breath and finished Pandey’s

story.

     ‘Yes uncle.’ Pandey mumbled meekly, before energetically and loudly

defending his innocence again, ‘I swear to you uncle that it was an honest

mistake. I am sorry uncle. It really wasn’t my fault’

     ‘Nevermind. Just be grateful that Judge was a family friend and wasn’t

averse to being presented with tampered evidence. I hope you do understand

why you have been removed from the board of directors and why we pleaded

guilty and accepted an order of house arrest’ Dipanshu looked questioningly at

his grandson. He had always favored Pandey over Deepak. Pandey had been a

bright young boy, Dipanshu had held high hopes for both Hastings & Purre

and Pandey. Now all that had changed and Dipanshu was having trouble trying

to think of a plan B.

     ‘Yes uncle’ Pandey meekly replied, his shoulders dropped down and

looked resignedly at the floor. Pandey’s mind flashed the images of the bloodied

naked man lying on top of the woman. Her naked thighs partially covered by

her pulled up skirt were soaked in the man’s and her blood. Her hair matted to

the ground and her brain spewed out and being carried away by red ants.

Pandey had emptied an entire clip of bullets, just to be sure. The flurry and

powerful impact of the bullets had fused the naked flesh, the exposed bones,

the bleeding tissues and the spurting blood from the two bodies into one.  ‘Deepak, you heard what your grandmother said. You will be crowned as

the Chairman and CEO, but… We are no longer in a condition to go after more

companies. Your job will be simply to make sure that existing machinery works

and the board of directors are happy.’ Dipanshu reiterated.

  ‘By the way what did you guys think about your grandmother’s

suggestion to get married? Do you like the girls?’ Dipanshu inquired to which

Deepak nodded and replied, ‘I am happy with whatever decision you take uncle’

  ‘And you Pandey?’ Dipanshu questioned, noticing his silence and the

restlessness.

  ‘Whatever you say uncle’ Pandey hurriedly spoke. Having recognized that

the time was not right for him to bring up any requests or favors he might have

to ask.

  ‘Very well, it is decided that Pandey, you will wed Prita, daughter of

Shoorsen, of Shoorsen & Shoorsen Enterprises. Deepak you will wed, Mala,

daughter to Shuboshish, of Subala International. Vinod, begin making suitable

arrangements for all three weddings.’ Dipanshu instructed.

  ‘Three sir?’ Vinod inquired, puzzled.


  ‘Well, if these two dimwits can get married than I suppose it is time you

got married as well. Don’t you think?’ Dipanshu smiled and looked lovingly at

Vinod.

  ‘Sir’ Vinod’s face broke into a broad grin.

 ‘Won’t you ask me who the girl is?’ Dipanshu inquired as he tried to

mask his pride at Vinod’s devotion and laughing heartily at the sight of Vinod

blushing.

  ‘For you, I have decided that you shall marry the adopted daughter of

Yadav, you know the one who owns that big diary cooperation in Mathura.’

  ‘Yes sir’ Vinod grinned and bowed in gratitude.


  ‘Deepak, I have grown old. I no longer to wish to take active participation

the day to day working of Hastings & Purre, so, I suggest that you consider

Vinod your chief counsel’ Dipanshu spoke addressing his blind grandson.

  ‘I would certainly appreciate all the help I can get uncle’ Deepak nodded

and smiled and clenched Vinod’s shoulder.

  ‘Very well then, I shall see you all at your wedding’ Dipanshu smiled as

he took leave and commanded his driver to take him back home.

  As Deepak and Vinod too took the leave, Pandey sighed and sullenly

looked at the woman clearing the empty cups of tea. The woman he loved, the

woman who was pregnant with his child.

  Something had bothered Dipanshu about Pandey and his narration of

what occurred in the forest. He couldn’t place his finger on it but something

kept gnawing. Suddenly realizing what it was, Dipanshu dialed Vinod’s number and instructed him to clandestinely inquire about the person responsible for

cleaning and taking care of Pandey’s gun collection.

                                   :

  ‘Ah! Moturam. How have you been? Sorry, got caught up with family

matters. So where was I?’ Dipanshu retorted as he kicked off his shoes and

poured himself a stiff drink. Unaware of the connection Moturam was

establishing with his phone’s Bluetooth.  11

  Despite the manner and circumstances in which Ambika and Ambalika

entered the house, they were, to everybody’s surprise were both devout to

Vichitvarya. Dev had watched the young girls grow into fine looking women and

over the years had grown fond of them. He would spend hours watching the

two girls and his step brother play with each other in gay abandon. In those

brief moments of leisure and introspection, Dev found his heart and soul

placed under the guillotine of loneliness. His mind a fertile ground for the weed

like ‘what if’ questions. To Dev, the two girls reminded him of the kids he could

have fathered.

  Satyavathi, in the meantime was wrestling with her own emotional

demons. Sure she loved her youngest son, but no love, even a mother’s love

stays immune to the cynical ways of reality for long. Satyavathi knew that she

that the moment she stepped out of the bubble of denial she had ensconsed

Vichitvarya and herself, she would crumble. Her age began reflecting itself with

the onset of paranoia and fear. Dev had always considered her as his own

mother. But her paranoia and fear told her otherwise, she concocted an

elaborate plan to keep Dev away from declaring himself the successor to her

late husbands wealth and power. The fact that both the girls were virgins

despite being married to her son, Vichitvarya troubld her endlessly. She had to

devise plan whereby the girls would bear children and she can proclaim them

as her grandchildren. She knew she didn’t have much time on her hands, every time she watched Dev look lovingly at the two girls, her fear and paranoia

paralyzed her. She was a woman of the world and a mother. Even a step

mother knows that there exists no man who is not tempted by the pleasure

offered by the warm skin of a woman. And Dev after all was her late husband’s

husband. And she knew the carnal primal instincts which ran in his genes.

  Dev in the meantime, perplexed by the string of threatening letters

addressed to him had decided to look into the matter. Dev believed he knew the

identity of sender and so he took leave and started a man hunt for Amba.

Having successfully executed the first step in her plan, Satyavati then

organized a huge puja. She called for hundred of the most educated and

revered Brahmins to pray for the well being of her son and his wives.

  Under the guise of performing the puja, Satyavati carried out the second

and the most crucial part of her plan. Satyavati believed that a Brahmin was

not only learned but his silence too came cheap. And so, one by one, all the

hundred Brahmins took their turn and time having their way with the young

girls. Ambalika, scared and traumatized urged her chambermaid to save her.

The chambermaid, a young girl, of the same age as the two sisters, Ambika and

Ambalika was not raised to disobey an order. And so, she gave herself up and

stopped the onslaught of the hundred Brahmins.

  Dev returned, empty handed after a whole week of searching for the

phantom. He began to suspect if the letters were really authored by Amba. By

the time he reached home, the damage had already been. The girls no longer laughed or played. All they did was sit quietly and watch Vichitvarya play

morosely. The sight of the two of depressed girls tore Dev’s heart. Silence was

all he received as an answer to all of his probing questions. He knew that

something monstorous had happened in his absence. He just didn’t know

what. He also knew that Satyavati was never fond of the two girls. His step

mother considered the two girls as being harbingers of bad luck and the reason

of Chitraganda’s death.

  When Ambika and Ambalika died in quick succession after giving birth

to a blind and a pale son, Dev again tried mustering the courage to confront of

his step mother. But watching his step mother rejoice the birth of her two

grandsons caused him to second guess himself. Satyavati named blind child,

Dhritu and the pale child, Pandu. Dev felt the familiar pang of loneliness and a

brief moment of jealously. A week after his two nephews were born, Ambalika’s

chambermaid too died giving birth to a son. The moment he cast his eyes, on

the healthy looking child, Dev knew that he would raise the baby as his own.

He named him Vidur.

                                    :

  ‘That evil bitch!’ Amrita mumbled between sobs so violent that it shook

her entire being.

  ‘My poor sisters… I am sorry! I am so sorry babies’ she mumbled, her lips

trembling as she spoke to her reflection on the computer monitor. She watched her face contort in pain and sadness. She hated the sobbing old woman she

saw in the reflection. Her emotions pendulated between grief and sadness. She

vowed to avenge the death of her sisters before she settled her score with

Dipanshu.  12

  The curse of being born in a working class family is the self awareness of

one’s penury and the aridity which characterizes one’s life, especially in the

presence of grand opulence and affluence. Vinod never forgot this lesson, not

with his so called friends, Pandey and Deepak constantly reminding him about

the omnipresent class divide.

  Despite being half brothers, there existed nothing common and brotherly

between the three boys. Each one of the three half brothers carried their own

cross, each acutely aware of the difference between them and each actively

tried to carve his distinct personality. Deepak burdened with the absence of

eyesight and the company of a helper to guide his steps, was both insecure and

selfish. Pandey despite his distinct lack of skin color was an assertive and a

born leader. In other words, a bully, aware of his own strength and mean

streak. Vinod, the reticent one, often found himself being derided by the two

boys and Satya. Him being Dipanshu’s blue eyed boy instantly invoked strong

feelings of neglect and jealously in Pandey and Deepak, who made sure that he

never forgot that he was a son of a lowly chambermaid.

  Satya began grooming Pandey from a very young age to take over the

reins of Hastings and Purre. In him she saw her murdered son, Pandey

exhibited the same cruel, ruthless ambition. As the three half brothers grew

older, the got better at hiding their distinct dislike, enmity and hostility

towards each other, much to Dipanshu’s delight. Dipanshu sensing that out of the three boys, Vinod was the only one who seemed to have any interest in

studies. Deepak stopped going to school after he was chided as the blind

beggar on his first day of school, Pandey got suspended from school after he

nearly killed the maths teacher after the teacher threatened to report him for

cheating in a class test. Dipanshu spared no expenses to ensure that Vinod got

the best of the education, but neither his friends in school and college nor his

friends back home ever let him forget where he came from. By the time Vinod

passed out of college, armed with a gold medal and an expensive piece of

parchment, which indicated his mastery of economics and business studies.

Pandey had already started dealing with the labor unions and squashing every

single revolt with an iron hand.

  Deepak’s insecurity didn’t just arise from his physical handicap. It bore

from the attention and preference which his grandmother Satya showered on

his younger brother, Pandey. Being the eldest, Deepak believed he was entitled

to a lot of things which he was overlooked for. When both Deepak and Pandey

came of age, and it was time for Dipanshu to give up his power of attorney,

Deepak was ecstatic. Being the eldest, he knew that his uncle didn’t have any

other choice but to name him as his successor. But when Dipanshu uttered

Pandey’s name, all those years of jealously and hostility unleashed itself.

  ‘This is not right’ Deepak confided in his manservant.


  ‘I know sir.’ The manservant duly replied.

 ‘Something must be done about this’ Deepak’s enraged voice thundered

as he snorted another line of cocaine.

  ‘Certainly sir, I will see what can be done’ the manservant cut up another

line of cocaine and watched his master breathe into another expensive line of

cocaine.

                                      :

  ‘Sir, there seems to be a bit of a problem with Shuboshish’ Vinod spoke

on the phone to Dev.

  ‘What sort of a problem?’ Dipanshu inquired puzzled.


  ‘Well sir, both father and daughter are excited and happy with the

proposal.’

  ‘Then… What seems to be the problem?’


  ‘Well sir, it is the bride’s brother, Shankar’ Vinod explained.


  ‘And what is his problem?’


  ‘Sir, he feels that his sister ought to marry Pandey. He feels that his

sister’s life will be ruined if she marries a blind man’

  ‘Did you explain it to him that Deepak is the CEO & Chairman of

Hastings & Purre’ Dipanshu thundered.

  ‘Yes sir.’

 ‘Find out what will influence him to change his mind’

    ‘I already did that sir. I have been led to believe that Shankar has a

crippling gambling addiction. So far, he has managed to keep it hidden from

his father and sister.’

    ‘Don’t out him. We might need his support later on when we negotiate

the merger of Saubala International’ Dipanshu understood what Vinod was

trying to suggest.

    ‘What would you want me to do then sir?’ Vinod inquired.


    ‘Find out how much his IOUs come up to. Offer to buy it back for him,

if…’ Dipanshu instructed.

    ‘Shankar promises to not cause any trouble.’ Vinod completed the

sentence.

    ‘Yes’


    ‘Very well sir’


    ‘Sir, there is also the other problem of Prita and her indiscretion in the

past’

    ‘Oh, you got to know about that’ Dipanshu inquired, impressed by

Vinod’s way of working.  ‘You knew about that sir?’ Vinod questioned, surprised that Dipanshu

was already in possession of the news he had just shared.

     ‘I am quite aware of Prita and her indiscretion in the past. And it is for

the very same reason why I had decided that she would marry Pandey. Also,

ensure that Maithri gets the best medical care’

     ‘What do you mean sir?’ Vinod inquired, not understanding Dipanshu’s

cryptic instruction.

     ‘Pandey has been sleeping with the chambermaid. I am surprised you

have been unaware of this for so long. She is now pregnant and is going to

require medical attention. Also, make sure that Pandey doesn’t do anything

stupid. I have had enough with that boy already.’

     ‘Sorry sir, I am not sure how I missed out on this. I will look into and do

the needful sir.’

     ‘Very well then’ and with that Dipanshu hung up. A sly smile spread

across his face.

                                       :

     ‘What was I to do darling?’ Pandey inquired as his fingers

absentmindedly twirled the curls of the woman resting on his pale naked hairy

chest.

     ‘I don’t know. Maybe stand up and tell your uncle that you love me’

 ‘You know I can’t do that baby. Not with everything which has happened’

   ‘Hmmm’


   ‘What happened love?’


   ‘Nothing’


   ‘Uh-oh! I did something didn’t I?’


   ‘I have something to tell you… But I am afraid what you might say or do

if I did tell you about it’

   ‘Tell me love… If you don’t confide in me then who else will you confide

in?’ Pandey curled his index finger under her chin and lifted her face to look

into her eyes.

   ‘I… I am pregnant Pandey’


   ‘WHAT?’


   ‘I knew you would get mad at me. I am sorry’ Maithri mumbled as she

broke down.

   ‘I am not mad or angry at you love’ Pandey pulled her closer and held her

tight. ‘I just find the timing to all wrong. You do know that I am getting married

tomorrow’ he continued as Maithri struggled against him.

   ‘You are hurting me Pandey’ Maithri protested as she raised her voice in

pain and discomfort.  ‘Sorry love, I got distracted’ Pandey smiled as he loosened his grip and

rolled on top of her and entered her once again.

    ‘Do you know the gender of the child?’ Pandey questioned as he grunted

with pleasure

    ‘Sons’ Maithri moaned.


    ‘Sons?’ Pandey inquired, abruptly stopping his locomotive action of his

hips.

    ‘Yes… You are going to father to twins’ Maithri whispered as she felt the

seismic trembles course their way across her body.