Shape of the Sun

The next morning.

"Gunjan, take this to your father downstairs so that he can keep it in the car."

"Okay, Mama."

Vaishali handed the duffel bag to her younger daughter and watched her go down before turning back into the apartment. She came to a stop at the first door on the left and took a deep breath, then pushed it open.

And there on the bed, was her eldest child in a position that was more than telling. Manmeet's back was to the door so that she faced and stared unfocused at the wall, her brown eyes as lifeless as they were lovely. 

It hurt a mother's heart to see her suffer this way.

"Chitti," Vaishali walked to and settled on the edge of the bed, "Your father is turning the car around so we can leave the hospital. Do you need some more time alone, baby?" She whispered the last part.

There was a vague shift of Manmeet's head, so Vaishali couldn't quite tell whether it was a yes or a no. But it was more than obvious which one she would want.

Sigh. The impermanence. 

"Alright. I will be setting things downstairs with your father and Gunjan. You can spend that time alone before I come back. Remember. We won't be back here, honey." She couldn't have her forget.

The older woman patted her daughter's feet before rising to hers and heading out the door. It was with a click of its closure that Manmeet whipped up her head and focused on it, the haze that was there before, absent. She watched for any slight movement and then a bit more until it was certain that no one was hovering outside.

Slowly but steadily, Manmeet then reached under the pillow that she'd clutched to her chest, her hand coming back with a pink-sleeved shirt that she pressed to her nose, inhaling the rich, heady mix of cedarwood and rosemary.

"Raj." She whispered the name of the only lover that she had ever known.

"Raj." Like something straight out of a movie, she began to cry, the pain enough to warrant death. It hurt so much, all of it - the baby in her womb that was probably hankering for its father and the tightness in her chest knowing that its father was not here and perhaps, was never here.

Manmeet didn't know how she felt except unparalleled pain, knowing the man that kissed her and that she had kissed in return, that had loved her and had given her life in all its forms was a liar. He was a criminal and he was going to be punished severely for it.

Did I even know who you are at all, Rajkumar Reddy? Who the hell are you? Where are you?

She couldn't feel him and she wished that she didn't want to, to have him wrap his arms around her and kiss her mouth ever so softly, whispering words of love and sweet nothings into her ear as he was wanton to. But now there was no Raj and Manmeet didn't know how much of Manmeet was left.

Her poor baby. Her son was barely living and he had done nothing to deserve this - a criminal and pathological liar for a father and a mere shadow for a mother.

Ah. It was hurting again. It hurt so much. Baby, I am sorry. Forgive your mother. Forgive me, she whispered these words amidst her tears, her hands cradling her raised belly, the only thing left that made the renowned female architect in SouthEast Asia think that it was worth trying to live.

But for some others, her struggle made her all the more hateful.

Someone stepped into the room and Manmeet turned around with much difficulty, believing that it was Vaishali - but it wasn't. Where an older woman in a blue salwar should have been, a young girl, probably not much older than Gunjan, stood there in a casual shirt and shorts. She also had a knife in her hand and a mad air about her.

Manmeet could make out what she was trying to say despite the growing pain in her lower abdomen and a hazier peripheral vision. Perspiration dotted every inch of her body.

"You ruined the doctor. And now, I will make all things well again. I will set him free."

....What? Was she talking to her?

"W-Who are you..."

"Shut up, you whore! Shut up and just die!"

The girl came charging in, warm, clear liquid slid down Manmeet's legs, and she reached for the empty glass pitcher on the bedstand behind her, hurling it forward with every ounce of energy that she could muster. Then, there was a lot of pain.

"Chitti!"

*******************************************************************************

That evening.

Rajkumar couldn't tell anyone how he got here and yet, he couldn't quite say that he couldn't see it coming, the lower trajectory.

Karma. It was karma for every damned sin that he had committed - to have trumped up crimes in addition to the one that he did commit and to serve sentences that should never have been given. But was it possible to reject karma, to request for this cup to pass over as Jesus had done in the Bible?

Karma was hell. It was unfair and he didn't want it.

Rajkumar couldn't control his tears as he sat, crouched at the corner of his bed and of the wall, in a cell that was touted as the prison's best, its relative comfort a mockery of what true freedom was.

He cried for his new reality, one that could only rely on others for the hope of an out as the past few weeks centered on discussions with his family and the lawyers had revealed. He shed tears for Anisha that had loved him and had truly gotten nothing in return, not even a wish or an apology that was truly free, not this beating heart inside him.

Because most of all, he cried for Manmeet and their child because he could do nothing but cry in this damned place, even after waking up to the most frightening news. 

But if there was darkness, there had to be light. That much was true.

His cell door was opened and someone stepped in so that Rajkumar managed to raise his head and see his twin sister through his blurred vision. Choti was looking down at him with a smile but Rajkumar didn't ask or say a word. He only silently looked at her, questioning with his tear-filled, charcoal eyes if this was something that could elevate him to the highest heaven or drag him to the depths of hell.

And he heard her say in a quavering voice, "Congratulations, Raj. Both the mother and child are safe. It was a healthy boy. 3.4 kilograms."

Rajkumar's body collapsed at the sound of that, turbid air finding an outlet and he cried and laughed this time like a madman, hands pressed to his eyes so that he could call the name of the woman that he worshipped without shame and in the way she loved the most.

"Mannu. Oh, my darling Mannu."

It was the end of all things and it was the beginning of new things. It was a coming forth, taking the shape of the sun.