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This is one of the books in the series: Destined To Be. (can be called a collection of books)
The story can be enjoyed as a standalone. You can find more details on my profile.
# HEAVY EDITING START...
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"Buaji, I saw a sitar in there," Luv commented casually while munching on his paratha. "Do you also fancy playing it like Gayatri Maa?"
Yashoda shook her head with a laugh. "Oh no, I've never even held a musical instrument. Classical music isn't really my cup of tea. Give me a lively Bollywood dance number any day!"
"Haan, she was a nautanki like you guys." Mahadev chuckled, "Yasho, remember that time at Akhilesh's Bhaiyya's sangeet? You danced to 'Yeh Mera Dil' like there was no tomorrow! We were all clueless back then, but you were practically dropping hints left and right. We never knew that the quiet guy in the corner had eyes only for our sister."
Veer choked slightly as Yashoda's cheeks flushed a bright red.
Subhadra, ever curious, chirped in, "Ooh, Maa! You never told us about your love story! That sounds exciting."
Jagdish's expression turned serious as he glanced sharply at his sister. "Some things are better left unsaid. Let's focus on finishing our meal."
The room lapsed into silence, with even the elders quietly observing Jagdish as he ate his food.
Yashoda's gaze lingered on Veer's face. He returned her look, a flicker of sadness in his eyes—a shared knowledge of the unspoken wall that separated him from their son. Jagdish, oblivious to this silent exchange, continued eating with a stoic expression.
She glanced at their son, trying to understand Jagdish's resistance to hearing about the past. He knew only fragments of it—a life before him shrouded in secrecy. However, he was aware of only one fact... She had defied her brothers' wishes to be with Veer and they had become parents immediately after their marriage as Yashoda had been pregnant with Jagdish.
A pang of guilt twisted in Yashoda's gut as she never had been open about her past to Jagdish. And, by the time he became a teenager, he had developed a fierce protectiveness towards her. He actively discouraged her from revisiting the history, insisting it was a painful chapter best left closed. In his eyes, those memories were a graveyard of mistakes that could only bring her sorrow.
She never argued... but she was no fool. She couldn't help but sense a distance between Jagdish and Veer. Had her desire to shield him from the pain of their past inadvertently created a future devoid of a father-son bond? Was Jagdish's resistance to the past more than just a surface-level annoyance?
For her, it felt more like a dutiful son's conduct than genuine affection. Where had she faltered in raising him? She knew Veer loved Jagdish fiercely– the man would have gladly taken a bullet for his "Sher," their son. Yet, their son barely spoke to his father. It saddened her to see Jagdish miss out on the wisdom and guidance only Veer, his father, could offer him.
The quiet spell was shattered by Nishita's question, "Maaji, if it's not you, then who plays the sitar?"
Yashoda stared at her daughter-in-law, a flicker of surprise crossing her face.
Who plays? Didn't Jagdish tell her about his passio—
But before she could speak, Subhadra chimed in, "Oh Bhabhi, didn't Bhaiyya tell you? He's our very own sitar maestro!"
Nishita's eyes widened in surprise as she turned to Jagdish. "Maestro?" she echoed.
"Haan," Subhadra confirmed matter-of-factly. "He's been dedicated to the sitar since he was just five years old."
Nishita continued to stare at Jagdish, clearly taken aback by this revelation. Yashoda, sensing the need to steer the conversation, cleared her throat. "Gayatri Bhabhi, how about you play us a piece after lunch? Then Jagdish can continue his practice. Does that sound alright, Sher?"
Jagdish silently nodded his agreement and returned to his meal, while Nishita blinked, seemingly processing the new information, before refocusing on her own plate.
Do they even know anything about each other?
Yashoda contemplated as she observed Nishita's expression shift from lighthearted to perplexed. Her thoughts wrestled with whether Jagdish had truly married for his own happiness or if it had been merely a gesture to fulfill his mother's desires. Had she failed to be a... mother?
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A/N
A bit of dRaMa...
In any case, a disco rhythm for this drama—I'm leaning towards the remix of "Ye Mera Dil" because my admiration for Sunidhi surpasses my affinity for the original retro track. And... I might reserve the retro version for another occasion (or in another book).
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