Kalaba Kadhala | Part 1

Chapter 21

Prabhas noticed the house was unusually busy today and there were lot of helpers roaming inside the house with different duties. Arjun, Aditya and Balu were at the living room checking some papers. Prabhas made their way to them, they greeted him and he took a seat beside Arjun. Chitra got him a coffee and took it, passing a warm smile which she reciprocated back.

"Chitra, is everything ready for the donation?" Arjun asked.

"Yes... but I was thinking it would be great if Anushka would do the honor". Chitra suggested. Prabhas's heart skipped a beat hearing her name.

"Why not? She's the Lakshmi of our house... It's her right to do it". Balu said and Arjun and Aditya agreed.

"Ok... then I will ask her to get ready". Chitra turned to go when Arjun stopped her.

"No... leave her alone for sometime". Arjun said making Prabhas and Chitra frown.

"What happened?" Prabhas asked.

"Umm... today is our Amma's birth anniversary". Aditya said making him nod. Now all the preparations made sense. "Anu spends this day beside Amma's grave... let her be there. When We'll take her to the orphanage when she returns".

Prabhas's heart ached for Anushka. He could imagine how miserable she might be feeling. He longed to be beside her, to shoulder her. But Aditya is right, she needs to be by herself now.

Anushka knelt before her mother's grave, her heart heavy with sorrow. This date was marked in the calendar of her mind with the deepest of red ink, but the memories it conjured were now tainted with the bitter taste of loss.

Today, the air filled with the scent of falling leaves and damp earth, but all Anushka could focus on was the haunting image of that fateful day—the day she lost her mother. Just a child then, she could only watch in horror as her father's rivals shattered her world, transforming her joyous childhood into chaos. In her mind, the scene replayed like a broken film reel: her mother's laughter suddenly cut short, surrounded by the echoes of gunshots and terror, her form collapsing into a pool of crimson that spread like a dark flower blooming on the cold stones.

Deep within, Anushka couldn't shake the nagging belief that her family was somehow complicit in the chaos. They had always spoken of power and revenge, of honor among the wicked, often whispering furiously late into the night when they thought she was asleep. It made her blood boil, and even though she adored her father, who always seemed to bear the weight of the world on his shoulders, a part of her always blamed him.

When Anushka returned home, she was greeted by the fragrant aromas of spices and sweet delicacies wafting from the kitchen. The house was alive with laughter, a stark contrast to the sorrow that enveloped her heart. A group of children from the local orphanage filled the halls, their laughter echoing off the marble walls. She found her father in the dining room, adjusting a table laden with food while a team of caregivers helped organize the festivities.

"Anu!" He beamed, the lines on his face softening as he glanced up. "Inge vaa kannai!" (come here darling) "We are celebrating your mom's birthday just how she liked it".

At that moment, the resentment she had kept at bay surged to the surface. It felt like a slap in the face—a gaudy spectacle of kindness dripping with insincerity. "Celebrating?" she shot back, her voice laced with bitterness. "You mean pretending to care while you shove your guilt down their throats with cakes and sweets? Do you think this makes it alright?"

Her father's smile faltered, hurt flashing across his eyes. "Anushka, we do this in her memory. It's about honoring her spirit."

"Or is it about covering your tracks?" she shot back, her voice rising. "You think feeding these kids can absolve the pain of losing my mother? You all parade around, acting like saints, while every day I remember how she died—murdered by your rivals because of your choices! This isn't a celebration, it's a show!"