Rewrite the Stars | A Ruturaj Gaikwad Fanfiction

Epilogue

THREE YEARS LATER...

Little Rushita Chaturvedi-Gaikwad had opened her eyes for the first time to the world and though she would never remember any of this later, found four doting faces looking down at her.

"Oh, look at her darling eyes! Hi Rushita, it's me, mumma..."

The woman who introduced herself to her as 'mumma' was draped in a blanket, her face lined with tiredness after a labourious delivery. But her face was shining with an other-wordly joy and love...so much love that little Rushita would have been overwhelmed had she been old enough to comprehend.

"Don't hog her, MC! Rushi, Rushi, look at me, your Rakesh chachu! Isn't she sweet?"

If she'd been old enough, Rushita would have wondered why this man, Rakesh chachu, was referring to mumma using an offensive word like that, but at the same time kissing both her and mumma's heads again and again, like he couldn't hold in his happiness.

"Okay, that's enough," said mumma, pushing him away. "And Rushita, look-this is your papa. And this is Aditi maasi."

Both papa and Aditi maasi had tears in their eyes as they looked at little Rushita, who stared back in fascination.

"Sweetheart," breathed Aditi maasi, gathering her up in her arms. 

Later Rushita would relate Aditi maasi's hugs with the comforting, homey smell of clay-like talcum powder and a place to retreat when mumma and papa were annoyed with her. Later, she would suppose the first hug must also have smelt the same-comforting and homey.

"Hold her, Rutu," Aditi maasi insisted.

"No, I-I can't," papa said, nervously. "She's too perfect. I can't."

"Are you a complete idiot?" Rakesh chachu asked.

"She's yours," Aditi maasi said. "She's you. Well, half you, anyway."

He took her in his arms then, tears running down his cheeks faster. If Rushita had been old enough, she would asked, "Why are you crying, papa?"

And he would have answered, "I have no idea, darling." Because he didn't.

After some time, when Rakesh chachu and Aditi maasi left quietly, telling her goodbye, Rushita was left in room with mumma and papa, both of them gazing down at her with utter devotion as they passed her between their laps.

"Mac..." Papa was whispering, his arm tight around mumma. "Our daughter, Mac, our daughter."

"I know this is going to sound a cliche, but she has your eyes, Rutu," said mumma.

"She has your hair," countered papa. "I hope she has your personality, too."

"Well, I sure as anything wish she has yours!" said mumma. "She'll be much easier to keep in line!"

As they laughed, she raised her hand to caress his cheek; he kissed her before they both turned back to their daughter again.

Years later, Rakesh chachu would tell Rushita the journey mumma and papa had gone through, how they had very narrowly escaped not marrying, in which case she would never exist. Aditi maasi would look at him reproachfully and say, "That's not true, Rush, you would always have existed."

Rakesh chachu would say the entire business had been a scandal in the country at that time. But together, the four of them had survived.

And everyone loved a good story.