Shape of the Sun

A family's chronicles

Reddy mansion. Four hours later.

The call had been very rewarding. It opened the windows in Bhairav's mind, large enough to widen the horizons he was familiar with. As of now, he was officially a successful father, and it wasn't only because of his conversation with Rajkumar at the club. No, that was not the sole reason why. It was that upon looking back, Bhairav thought everything that his youngest did made him proud.

On the contrary, his oldest was having a field day pissing him off. Bhairav had come home, pleased enough to attend to the important documents he needed to review earlier than planned. He only dealt with those ones that his assistants thought were too sensitive for them to handle, and usually, they were only business dealings that had important political or social implications for the family, whether they went through or not was up to him.

However, lately, they had become increasingly personal, so much so that it gave him a headache. Bhairav rubbed his forehead with his left hand, the right reaching for the glass of water before him on the table for which he took a sip. It was irritating how much trouble Prithvi was causing. What did it mean that he had half-naked women flocking in and out of his house, partying like there was no tomorrow? And at that, partying when he lost a substantial part of the money he had lent him for the fish farm he had pitched to him!

Stupid boy! Bhairav wanted to hit someone.

How could he be doing such a thing, especially with the project commencement around the corner, like he couldn't understand how sensitive his father's position was?

Truly Bhairav didn't want to lend him the money, but he had promised him to do so in the past, and after all, it was his son, not a stranger. There was no need to hurt the child's heart because of money. It wasn't cost-effective to do so and estrange him further, given the dynamics of their relationship.

But he had been wrong.

In fact, if Bhairav had a chance, he would go back in time and knock some sense into his past self the day that he had signed that check. But in his defense, he never knew that Prithvi, who was usually steady, would act so recklessly. God forbid he turned out to be just like that failure that Choti had married, and had managed to confuse her enough to resist divorce. Hell, no. Just thinking of it sent Bhairav into a panic and he eagerly pressed the bell on the table.

Murari came running in, ever the dutiful secretary.

"Is there anything that you need, sir?"

"Yes." he said, reaching for the first set of desk drawers, "Go and bring back the keys to Prithvi's yacht and the summer penthouse I gifted him last year. Also, tell him to shut whatever party that is going on down, do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

Bhairav satisfied with his response, handed him a small, rectangular wooden box. It was for the keys he'd be collecting. Murari respectfully took it.

"If he makes a fuss, don't back down and remind him that it's not you, but me sending you to him, okay? Tell him that I want him to control himself and that he doesn't need to come for the announcement event on Wednesday. Instead, he should reflect on himself behind closed doors."

There was no need to send fodder to the wolves, sorry sheep, that wanted to run him and his family down. And in the end, it was all for Prithvi's own good. All Bhairav wanted was for all the talk around him to die down after which he could appear at these functions again. In addition, he really meant his words on the self-reflection part and hoped Prithvi understood his painstaking efforts as a father.

He couldn't sit still and watch him go the way of Mahesh Sharma, a leech he wanted to save his daughter and granddaughter from. It was over his dead body that his brilliant sons turned out disappointing like their sister. Bhairav didn't forget to mention this to Murari.

"Don't disrespect him, Murari." his tone was warning. After all, it was still his son, an extension of him. How could he allow his secretary, no matter how excellent he was, to talk Prithvi down?

Murari shuddered under that unkind gaze and he hurriedly nodded his head, which satisfied Bhairav greatly. What a model worker he was.

"When you come back, you would receive a raise. People that I am pleased with it never lack any good things of the sort. And people that I am not pleased with..."

He didn't complete the statement, opting for a low, clear chuckle. But that didn't mean that his trusted secretary did not understand what was meant to come next. He had finished it off in his head because it was a sentence so familiar. It was the sentence that Bhairav had told him on the first day they had met.

Murari, those people will end terribly. I will not let anything go that stands in my way.

That day, he had dared to ask a question after hearing this, despite being afraid, physically shaking to be in the presence of such a person. Perhaps, this was what made him like him enough to hire him. He had asked him what if those people were his children. It was no secret how close Bhairav Singh Reddy was to all of his children. What happened if they stood in his way?

What he had done in response surprised Murari, enough to temporarily hold off his fear.

Was the question funny?

He quickly realized his blunder, a hand shooting up to cover his mouth, terror in his eyes. What should he do...

But adding to his surprise, Bhairav didn't do anything in retaliation. Instead, he chuckled, gently shaking his head.

My dear Murari, you still have a long way to go.

He did, really. The man's next sentence affirmed that.

So what if they are my children? I gave them everything they had, and so it is their duty not to block the Reddy way. Anyone who forgets this would need to learn that there is still a sky bigger than the one that we see up above.

Curiosity fueled Murari's final question more than anything else at this point.

So, what if they don't learn? What do you do?

If they don't learn, then it's okay for them to live and die as a waste.

He said such cruel words without batting an eyelid.

There is no place for failures in my household. If any of my children go against the foundation I worked so hard to build, they are as good as dead to me. Dead, Murari, and I mean it.

Bhairav meant the entirety of it. Every single word.