Zara Al Ahmad was six when she lost the firmness of the impetus with which she was living. The reign of her power belonged to Aariz Ahmad. The drawing blood bath was waiting at the threshold of her edge. After a wait of twenty-two years, her greed f...
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गणपति बाप्पा मोरया
पुढच्या वर्षी लवकर या!!
Navigating through the narrow, complicated labyrinth of streets and alleys, bedecked with intricate decoration and Rangolis. Seven-year-old Anirudh Vyas steps forward, now feeling tired of walking from the slum to Lalbaugcha Raja's serene GSB Seva Mandal Pandal—devotees pushing for the last darshan of the Visarjan. The reverberation of Ganesh Aarti begins for the last time before the immersion, hymns of faith loud with claps in sync, the symphony of urges and desperation, eyes seeking shelters from the remover of obstacles and harbinger of auspiciousness, the golden hues cover the sky, and the rain soak the bestowers in love of lord. Anirudh's sore rubbed feet now felt energetic when the rhythmic beats of Dhol Tasha and the synchronized chant of Ganesha went loud. His stomach growls, and embarrassment and mortification fill his innocent heart, the Pandit notices the child hiding himself in the crowd, and soon the trustee announces to distribute Ladoo and Modak, a smile replaces the glumness, his little hand collecting seven sweets now filled. His Aaji and Akku will not sleep hungry with the thought he runs back.
"Why the hell does mom have this obsession, bringing me every time in this loud affair, like please can't they worship in their home" Naina asks, feeling frustrated when the woman steps out of her luxurious car with sunglasses over her head. Anirudh's eyes went wide, his retina straining. He was quick to hide behind the black jeep. Anirudh did not notice when the white Nissan 35OZ drove in his direction, and before he could have penetrated, Anirudh was in a pool of blood. His body moves towards the direction the little girl is standing in, unconsciousness blurring his vision. His hands fell over the ground the woman had stepped on before. In between vermilion and colors, the earmark of those heels is clearly visible. Gathering all his strength, moves his hands to his head and mumbles "Aai" a sleep of ache and unconsciousness ready to lull him, to take over him.
True were the people who said the Lord cannot be present everywhere, so he made a mother. Because that night it was his mother who saved him, protected him, and once again gave the part of her blood to save the child-
|Present|
Anirudh forgot to complete the line-twenty-four years back- save out of kindness, sympathy, and pity. Save out. Embracing hands left a void. Not for love, not for your child.
If a sperm donor is not a father, so is a womb donor, not a mother. Anirudh Vyas is an orphan, and he wishes to be known as the same.
"Excuse me, sir" Anirudh's eyes alight with the older-woman in the wheelchair, settling on the younger man.
