Understanding the meaning of Love with MaAn

Mummy and Bakuda

Eight years had passed since Anuj Kapadia's soul-crushing realization outside Shah House. Time hadn't been kind to Anupamaa. While she had stayed true to her family, she had been reduced to little more than a shadow of herself. In the Shah household, she was a mere servant to the whims of her husband, Vanraj Shah, his dominating mother Leela, and the harsh expectations of her children—Toshu, Pakhi, and even, at times, Samar.

Anupamaa was a simple woman, uneducated, and always made to feel inadequate for it. Her life was a whirlwind of chores and criticism. Her eldest son, Paritosh—Toshu—was Vanraj's pride and joy, a final-year MBA student and a top performer, following in his father's footsteps. Pakhi, their daughter, was obsessed with social status, image, and money, constantly measuring her self-worth by the yardstick of societal approval. Both Toshu and Pakhi looked down on their mother, seeing her as a failure, an embarrassment who hadn't achieved anything in life.And then there was Samar, Anupamaa's youngest child, her *Bakuda*, her ally. Though Samar wasn't academically inclined, he was an artist, a gifted dancer, and his passion for Kathak made him stand out—but not in a way that pleased Vanraj. Vanraj and the rest of the family—especially Leela—considered Samar a "loser," mocking his lack of traditional success, and they frequently dragged Anupamaa down with him, calling them the "Looser Gang." Yet, it was Samar who stood by his mother, time and time again, defending her in the face of his father's coldness, his brother's arrogance, and his sister's vanity.

But despite Samar's loyalty, the family's cruel words still hurt. The weight of being constantly demeaned wore down both mother and son, even as they tried to support one another in their quiet, gentle way.

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It was a regular day for Samar. As always, he attended his Kathak dance classes, a passion that set him apart from the rest of his family but gave him joy and purpose. Vanraj hated it—he found it embarrassing that his son was focused on something as "frivolous" as dance rather than pursuing a conventional career. That day, Samar had just finished an intense round of practice. He sat down with his group of "friends," a bunch of boys who tolerated him more than actually liked him. They often made him the butt of jokes, teasing him for his dedication to dance and for being his mother's only supporter. Still, Samar, being the kind-hearted boy he was, held onto the hope that they were his friends, even when they clearly weren't.As they sat around a table, eating lunch after the class, Samar's phone buzzed. The caller ID flashed "*Papa*"—Vanraj Shah. Samar's stomach dropped. His father only called him for one reason: to scold him, demean him, or remind him of what a failure he was. Hesitantly, Samar answered the call. But before he could speak, his so-called friends noticed the look of dread on his face and grabbed his phone, putting it on speaker. Vanraj's voice boomed out for everyone to hear. Vanraj (angrily): "Samar! Tum abhi bhi dance kar rahe ho? Main kitni baar tumhe samjhata hoon, ye sab bakwaas chhod do. Dance se tumhe kya milega? Kuch nahi. Tum bas apne waqt barbad kar rahe ho, aur apni maa ki tarah zindagi mein koi kaam ka nahi banoge!"Samar's heart sank. His friends snickered, nudging each other as they listened to Vanraj's words. Their laughter, barely concealed, echoed in Samar's ears, making the humiliation unbearable. He tried to hold back tears, his face flushing with shame.When the call ended, his "friends" turned away from him, their smirks still etched on their faces. Samar sat frozen, his hands shaking, his mind clouded with the weight of his father's words and the betrayal of his so-called friends. Samar: "Guys... thoda help karoge?" he asked, his voice weak, hoping for even a shred of kindness. But instead, they ignored him. No one offered a hand or a word of comfort. They simply abandoned him in his moment of need, confirming what Samar had always feared—they were never truly his friends.

Samar's heart ached with a deep sense of isolation. He had been made a fool of, not only by his father but by the people he considered friends. He sat at the table, staring at his plate, when he noticed someone watching him from the next table. It was a boy—no older than 16 years was flushed from exertion after his own round of dance practice.

Samar met the boy's eyes and quickly looked away, embarrassed and expecting more ridicule. But the boy didn't laugh. Instead, he got up from his table and walked toward Samar with a gentle smile on his face. Samar's heart pounded in his chest. Oh no... is he going to make fun of me too? He braced himself, expecting yet another blow to his already shattered self-esteem.But the boy simply stood in front of Samar, his hands clasped together. There was something calming about him, something reassuring in the way he held himself. The Boy: " Bhaiya, aap thik toh ho?" he asked softly, his voice laced with genuine concern. Samar blinked, taken aback. No one—especially not anyone in his dance class—had ever asked him that. He looked up at the boy, unsure of how to respond. The boy smiled again, this time a little wider, as though sensing Samar's confusion.The Boy: "Mujhe sab sunayi diya. Aapka papa galat keh raha tha. Dance koi bakwaas nahi hai. Dance toh pooja hai, bhaiya. Jab aap dance karte ho, toh aap Bhagwan se judte ho. Aap akele nahi ho."Samar stared at him, feeling a strange sense of warmth spreading through his chest. The boy's words struck a chord deep within him, echoing in a way that made Samar's heart feel lighter.Samar (hesitantly):"Kaise pata tumhe? "The boy chuckled softly, shaking his head.The Boy:"Jab dil mein Bhagwan ho, toh hum sab ek hi hojaathe hai "There was a wisdom in the boy's words that belied his age, a simple yet profound truth that Samar had been blind to in the midst of his own pain. Samar felt a tear escape his eye, but this time it wasn't from shame—it was from something else. Something that felt a lot like hope.

Samar: "Thera naam kya hai? Kitne saal ke ho? "

The Boy: "Mera Naam Anurang hai Anurag Keshav, mei 16 saal ka hu. Aur aap kitne saal ke ho??"

Samar: "Mei Samar Shah, mei 18 saal ka hu. waise tumhe pehle kabhi dekha nahi yaha?? Naye ho??"

The Boy: "Ha mei US mei rehtha tha, 1 saal se India aaya hu. 1 saal thak mei Bangalore mei rehtha tha. Ab Gujurat mei aaya hu. Tho mei jab se 2 saal ka bachcha tha tab se Dance seek raha hu. Bangalore mei Bhartanatyam, Kathak dono sika hai meine. Ab yaha rehtha hu. Ek nanny ke saath rehtha hu. Mere mummy nahi hai. Papa abhi bhi US mei rehthe hai. Mujhe yaha mummy ka ek sapna pura karna tha tho mei India aaya. Mummy bolthi thi ki 15 saal ke birthday mei, ek Guruvandana program rakna hai. Mummy gusar jaaneke baad woh kaam toh mujhe hi karna hoga tho mei yaha aaya".

Samar: "Ohhh tum lagthe nahi ho ki US return ho. Matlab tum Dhoti kurta pehen the ho hamesha??"

AnuRag: "Ha yeh sab bolthe hai mujhe. Dhoti Kurta mujhe pasand hai toh mei yehi pehentha hu."

Samar was moved by this guy. And wanted to have Friendship with the guy. Anurag accepted the friendship. 

To be continued.......