Bade Acche Lagte Hain | MaNan

A Glimpse of the Past!

A thirty-five year old Prakash dragged his eight year old son away from the crematorium where the ashes of his wife's dead body still emitted smoke.

"Leave me!! I said leave me you spineless scoundrel!" The wretched yet wroth boy screamed, gaining the attention of the people who had joined to attend the funeral of Lt. Kasturi Malhotra.

"Manik!!" Prakash, hot-headed and humiliated, a combination that was meant to eventuate into a disaster, thrashed and slapped his skinny and bolshie son making him fall on the ground. His son needs hard lessons to turn him into a well mannered boy and Prakash will deliver him those, vigorously and strongly.

The physical pain on little Manik's cheek as the blood trickled down his lips couldn't counter the pain shooting in his heart. The void of losing his mother will remain unfulfilled till he breaths his last.

He prayed for his every breath to be his last, but Almighty has different plans for him.

"What are you doing, Prakash? He is a kid, your kid." Mr. Virani came running and picked up little Manik in his arms. The boy weighed too light for his age.

The heartbreak of carrying the dead body of his beloved daughter on his shoulders was getting more potent and profound as he gathered his trembling grandson in his arms, who has refused to shed a single tear post his mother's demise. The signs of trauma were lurking large and dark in his eyes, compelling and demanding to be set loose. Mr. Virani had another life to look after. He just cannot give up.

"A kid, spoilt and overindulged by his mother, who is no more. I won't let her stubbornness destroy my son's future, father. He needs to be disciplined." Prakash claimed and alleged, blinded by the reliance he sought from his brother.

"From a shameless man like you? An awful husband and a man who is a pathetic excuse of a father. Haven't you had enough, Prakash? Look at this kid for once, you find him pampered?"

The grief weighing down Mr. Virani's senescent heart channelised the distress into anger, taking in the sight of his said- overparent-ed grandson, whose reality was far from it.

Hollow-cheeked, fat not spare enough to sheath the bones making their appearance sharp and pronounced to the naked eyes. With every breath the boy took, his well defined ribs, ending above the angular structure of pelvis holding the white dhoti around, moved, bespeaking of his emaciation and brought the tears back in Mr. Virani's eyes.

His little Manik was starved, of every basic necessity of life - food, a warm embrace and love. Mr. Virani had not expected from Prakash to understand it. The man he married his daughter to, was dead from the neck up, lacking a sense of judgement and was gradually losing the last pith of humanity as well. Surely, Mr. Virani had been too late to help his daughter but prompt enough to save his grandkids.

"And if you cannot love your kids, give them to me. They would never bother you, I promise." He demanded and affirmed, enfolding little Manik in his hold as the latter snuggled with relief swamping through his body.

Prakash shuddered internally, by the rage and determination flashing through his father-in-law's eyes, something he had never witnessed before. Mr.Virani was a simple and a compassionate man, who had enough of everything except love, for that flowed in abundance.

But Prakash won't give in, not today, not ever! His elder son, Manik was mentioned as his heir, not Manas. Manas wasn't even born when the clause was included vividly in the legal agreement by his elder brothers, followed since generations in their family. Prakash was bounded to take Manik back.