Redemption's Dance: A Tale of Love and Forgiveness

Ch-2

"Ishan beta, jara idhar aana,” Dadi’s voice rang out.

“Aa rahe hai, Dadi,” Ishan replied, quickly finishing his task before heading inside. He found his grandmother standing in the hall, looking both amused and exasperated.

“Kya baat hai, Dadi?” Ishan asked, noticing her unusual expression.

“Jara dekh toh,” Dadi said, pointing to the floor.

Ishan looked around the hall and his eyes widened in disbelief. Soil was scattered everywhere, turning the neat room into a scene of chaos. He sighed, recognizing the handiwork of his mischievous son.

“Haye raam, is ladke ka main kya karun,” Ishan muttered, shaking his head with a mix of frustration and fondness. “Kahan hai wo, Dadi?”

Dadi gestured towards the sofa. Ishan walked over and peered behind it, finding Atharv happily playing with the soil he had spread all over the floor.

“Atharv,” Ishan called softly.

Atharv looked up, his chubby face lighting up with a bright smile. “Maa, khelo,” he said, holding out a handful of soil as if inviting Ishan to join in his fun.

“Kya khelo, tumne toh pura ghar ganda kar diya, aur abhi tumhe Dadi ne nehlaya tha na,” Ishan said, trying to sound stern but unable to hide his smile.

Atharv just giggled, his innocent joy infectious. Ishan couldn’t help but laugh as he picked up his son. “Aa jao, let’s clean you up.”

As Ishan carried Atharv towards the bathroom, he called out to the housemaid. “Mala, ye sab saaf kar do aur Manoj jaise hi aayega doodh ubal dena.”

“Ji, chote Babu,” Mala replied, already starting to clean up the mess.

“Maa, bhook lagi,” Atharv said, his voice plaintive.

“Pehle naha lo, uske baad khayenge, thik hai?” Ishan replied, gently applying soap to Atharv's chubby limbs.

Atharv nodded, his big eyes serious as he let Ishan clean him. Once Atharv was rinsed and dried, Ishan carried him to the bedroom and sat him on the bed, reaching into the wardrobe for fresh clothes.

As Ishan searched for Atharv's clothes, he heard a familiar voice from the doorway. “Baba,” Atharv called out, his face lighting up.

Shubman stepped into the room, his stern features softening as he smiled at his son. He walked over to the bed and placed a gentle kiss on Atharv's forehead. “Kya Kiya tumne is baar?” Shubman asked, his tone surprisingly gentle.

“Mitti se khela,” Atharv giggled, his laughter filling the room.

Shubman chuckled and glanced at Ishan, who was now holding a small set of clothes for Atharv. Ishan, feeling the weight of Shubman’s gaze, kept his eyes downcast as he approached the bed.

Without a word, Ishan began to dress Atharv, his hands moving with practiced efficiency. Shubman watched them for a moment, his expression unreadable. The silence was thick with unspoken tension, but also a strange, fragile peace.

Once Atharv was dressed, he wriggled out of Ishan’s grasp and ran to Shubman, hugging his legs. “Baba, khana khana hai,” he said, looking up with an innocent smile.

Shubman nodded, his hand gently ruffling Atharv’s hair. “Chalo, khana khate hain,” he said, lifting Atharv into his arms.

After having breakfast, Ishan was cleaning their room while Shubman sat on the couch, engrossed in his work. The tension in the room was palpable, a silent testament to the unspoken words that weighed heavily on their minds.

"Kal nyota bheja tha, Mishra ji ne. Unke bete ki shaadi hai," Shubman said, breaking the silence.

"Hmm... toh aap aur Dadi chale jaiyega," Ishan replied, folding the bedsheet meticulously, trying to keep his emotions in check.

Shubman glanced up, his eyes cold and calculating. "Waise wahan pe ek dancer ko bhi bulaya hai. Tum uske badle kuch paise bhi kama loge," he said, his words laced with contempt.

Ishan's hands stopped mid-fold. He looked at Shubman, his eyes reflecting a mixture of hurt and defiance. Shubman met his gaze with a smirk.

"Aise kyun dekh rahe ho? Sach hi toh keh rahe hai, ek nachne wala aise hi toh paise kamata hai na," Shubman said, his tone mocking.

"Ham nachne wale nahi, ham bas bacchon ko sikhate hai. Par aapko isse kya taklif hai, aaj tak aapke upar ek kalank tak lagne nahi diya," Ishan retorted, his voice trembling with suppressed anger.

"Tumhe pata hai mujhe kaisi sharmindgi mehsoos hoti hai jab log mujhse puchte hai ki aapke pati kya karte hai," Shubman said, raising his voice, the frustration evident.

"Kaisi sharmindgi? Aaj tak aapne pati ka toh darja tak nahi diya, na wo ijjat di. Bas aapke samne ham ek khooni hai. Wo hamari behen thi, aur aap kaise soch sakte hai ki ham apni hi behen ko marenge," Ishan said, his voice cracking with emotion.

"Kyun nahi, jaydad ke liye toh koi kuch bhi karega na," Shubman shot back, his voice hard and unyielding.

Ishan scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. "Itna neech sochte hai aap hamare bare me, kabhi socha nahi tha."

"Tum ho is layak Ishan, tumhari behen tumse kai guna achi thi, wo ek achi patni thi," Shubman said, his words intended to wound.

"Aur maa?" Ishan asked quietly, his question hanging in the air, making Shubman's mouth shut abruptly.

"Ispe aap kuch nahi bolenge," Ishan said, his voice soft but resolute, knowing he had hit a nerve.

Before Shubman could respond, there was a knock on their door, interrupting their heated exchange.