Baarishein

8

Their original agreement soon shifted. Mishti returned to Saarbrücken with Ritwik, carrying a memory she would cherish forever: their son's first meeting with his father. Ritwik's hands trembled so violently that she hesitated to entrust their newborn to his unsteady grip. While the baby didn't cry, his father's eyes spoke volumes. Filled with a tender emotion, they glistened with unshed tears. The striking resemblance between father and son was undeniable, creating a moment of profound beauty.

"Hi, Rudy," Ritwik greeted, using the nickname Mishti had given their son. He didn't have a strong opinion about the name; Rudrakash wasn't a familiar name on his side of the family. Mishti pointed out that they'd chosen a Punjabi name instead of a Bengali one, and Ritwik found that appealing. His father had insisted on "typical Delhi" names for him and his siblings, but he knew his mother had longed for Punjabi ones. This felt like a way to honor her, even though their first grandchild was born in Germany.

As Ritwik took the baby into his arms, he softly said, "It's Daddy." A subtle shift in the infant's expression hinted at a recognition of the voice that had been a constant companion during his prenatal life.

It was a sunny and hot day in Saarbrücken and Rudrakash was wearing a baby body suit and was barefoot, leading Ritwik to be enchanted by his son's foot and fatty legs. Mishti noticed he became teary when he realized the birthmark on his shoulder when he was dressing him, while he let his finger rub it.

"Mine is on the right side of the shoulder," he pointed out.

She nodded silently, careful not to interrupt the tender moment between father and son.

"He's perfect," he breathed, his eyes filled with wonder as he gazed at the baby in his arms.

"I told you he looks a lot like you," she replied, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

He ran a hand through her hair, a distracted gesture. "I'm glad it's growing back," he said.

Her eyebrows were raised in question. "Your hair? The shorter cut was good for you, but I think long hair suits you better. It's very flattering," he explained gently.

He shifted uncomfortably, avoiding their gazes. Mishti could see the awkwardness in his expression.

"I must agree. I don't regret it because it was something I've always wanted to do, but I don't think it looked better than before. It was good to have shorter hair while I was pregnant, but I'm tired of it. That's why I'm letting it grow again," she tried to sound humorous but there was still too much tension between them for her to actually accomplish it.

Two weeks had passed since Vijaypath's returned home, yet the house was enveloped by a sense of dread. His health, fragile and deteriorating, cast a long shadow over the household. Doctors had issued stern warnings, emphasizing the need for constant care. Ritwik, Rishabh, and Arohi were tireless in their dedication, but Vijaypath's yearning for Mishti and Rudrakash was evident. This longing, a poignant plea for familiar comfort, brought her back to India the previous day.

Kunal's face lit up when she told him about the Saarbrücken trip with Ritwik. His eyes, usually guarded, lit up with a childlike joy she hadn’t seen in a long time. Given her growing family, she had anticipated a more nuanced response, perhaps a tinge of concern or protectiveness. Instead, he embraced the news with an open-heartedness that surprised and touched her deeply.

Ritwik spent two days in Saarbrücken, staying in a hotel near her home. After reconnecting with Rudrakash, she decided it was time to return to Kolkata, but this time with her baby. Mauli was utterly stunned when they arrived, her reaction mirroring Mishti's expectations. Yet, the shock soon gave way to an overwhelming joy as the new grandmother relished having her grandchild back in her life.