A Sew Through Time [Banbudh And Budbak]

32: Badri and Budh vs the world

(Trigger warning: Mention of drugs, violence and abusive language from this chapter onwards. Stop here or gently pass)

Khushi's mother woke up with a hypnic jerk, hitting her elbow accidentally on the bed stand. The fairy lights in the altar twinkled, bright yellow lights dancing around the gods.

 Loud, rhythmic footsteps were prancing around the house. Leaving the bed, she noticed her elder son walking around restlessly. Peering into his room, she watched him throw out clothes from his bed, shoving away his piles of vintage video game CDs, empty energy drink cans and exquisite figurines to take out a diary from the back of his desk.  He turned off his gaming PC, leaving the colourful lights dead.

"What are you looking for?" 

"Arre woh jacket" Badrinath spoke, flinging close the door and digging into the sweaters hanging from the hooks, "The one chachi gave last year, I can't find it"

Turning to the drawers, she found the jacket and gave it to him. It was navy blue in colour, with white stitches at the sleeves and hem, with a picturesque design on the front pocket,

"Here"

"Woah, thank you matashree!" he smiled, wearing it over his prehistoric cyan t-shirt.

"Where are you going?" she blinked.

"To see Budh" He replied while walking towards the living room.

"Why?"

"To give him this diary" he replied, taking out his sneakers from the shoe case, "I'll be back soon, no chintas"

"Can't you go sometime later?" her forehead wrinkled, "Itni raat mey..."

Hearing this, he took out his phone and switched it on, 

"But it's only six pm"

She pointed at the living room clock, 

"It's almost eight pm"

"Huh?"

"What will I tell your papa if he doesn't find you home?"

"Tell him I'm at Budh's house na"

"You will be late"

"I won't mummy!" he tied his shoes and looked at her, "If he doesn't get this back, the professors will break his bones"

"Is it really important right now?" her voice cracked slightly, "To give this right now?"

He carelessly fixed his black messy hair and replied, "I have my phone na. I'll keep texting you, so fikar not"

"You have to pick up every call I make" she spoke with maternal concern, "If you don't pick up, I'll call Budh"

"I will" he chuckled and turned towards the door. But he turned back at her and clasped his hands, giggling,

"Ashirvaad mataji?"

"Seven fifty-seven!"

He chuckled and descended down the stairs.

 After she closed the door, she went to her bedroom and sat in front of the altar. The December weather turned colder, bleak stars twinkling in the night sky.

Walking towards the dhaba, Badri checked his phone. The diary was tucked inside his pocket, making his jacket bulge out. Opening WhatsApp, he found the video recorded by Khushi's friends, the same video which had boiled up his wrath. The clip had seized his sleep away the past few weeks; however, it was the ultimate proof. After reading the diary, he felt somewhat assured of Khushi being alive, but he did not rely on assumptions.