Understanding the meaning of Love with MaAn

The Return of Villian- Vanraj Shah Is Back

Months had passed since Anupamaa had left Krishna Kunj. Following her departure, Toshu, Samar, and Pakhi had also eventually left, and none of them ever returned. The once-bustling house felt hollow, and its upkeep fell solely on the shoulders of Vanraj, Baa, and Bapuji. Suddenly, all the chores and responsibilities they had taken for granted became unavoidable tasks that none of them were prepared for.

Vanraj began to see his parents in a different light. Baa and Bapuji, who once had an air of authority and control, were actually helpless in many ways. They struggled with the simplest things—neither of them knew their own medication prescriptions, and they barely moved from their seats unless absolutely necessary. Instead of actively participating in the upkeep of the household, they often fell into endless arguments, clashing over trivial matters with no resolution.

Baa, who would grudgingly take up kitchen duties to ensure there was food on the table, refused to lift a finger beyond that, especially when it came to taking care of her son. Her nurturing spirit had faded, replaced by an apathy that even Vanraj’s commands couldn’t shake. Vanraj himself wasn’t much better; he still held on to his old habits, demanding his tea be served at specific times, and often scolding Baa for her lack of effort around the house. Ironically, she would retaliate, pointing out that he contributed nothing himself—not even financially—to support their household. He didn’t work, didn’t earn, and it was beginning to wear on them all.

Meanwhile, Bapuji, feeling increasingly lonely and helpless, seemed lost in memories. He clung to a faint hope that Anupamaa would return one day. Every day, he would find himself reaching for the phone at least five times, dialing her number in the hope of hearing her voice. Yet, each time, the call would end in silence, as she chose not to answer. It was his way of grasping for a connection that he had let slip away, though he knew deep down that the family had already driven her too far.

Vanraj’s life had unraveled in ways he hadn’t imagined possible. He was jobless, his reputation shattered, with no income to support himself or the household. With no savings left, he could no longer afford the comfort of hired help, and Anupamaa—who had once held the home together with quiet strength and compassion—never returned. The void she left behind was painfully apparent in every corner of Krishna Kunj.

After their breakup, Kavya had moved on without a backward glance, leaving Vanraj to face his circumstances alone. His pride had been his only shield, but it became clear just how vulnerable he truly was. Each day was a harsh reminder of his isolation, and he found himself shouldering the responsibility of caring for Baa and Bapuji, both of whom had grown completely dependent on him. They no longer had the energy or desire to handle even the simplest of household tasks. Yet, despite his dire situation, Vanraj clung to his ego, refusing to change or accept his faults.

Adding salt to his wounds was the bitter reality that no company would hire him, thanks largely to the influence of Anuj. Vanraj had burned too many bridges, and his professional reputation was now tainted beyond repair. His arrogance had closed doors that would never reopen, and the lack of opportunity served as a brutal reminder of how far he had fallen.

Baa and Bapuji, once pillars of his support, soon grew tired of his relentless pride and refusal to take responsibility. Their patience, too, had worn thin. Exhausted by the ceaseless tension in the house and disillusioned by Vanraj’s stubbornness, they eventually made a decision. One quiet morning, Baa and Bapuji announced they were leaving for Jamnagar to stay at Baa’s *maayka*, hoping to find some peace and respite from the chaos. It was a decision that spoke volumes about the fractured family dynamics; even his parents could no longer bear to remain under the same roof.

With Baa and Bapuji gone, Vanraj found himself utterly alone. The once-bustling Krishna Kunj was now eerily silent, its walls echoing the emptiness of a life built on pride and resentment. The luxuries and comforts he once took for granted had faded, and all he was left with was a hollow shell of what once was. He had no money, no family by his side, and no respect to fall back on—just an empty house and memories that weighed heavily on his conscience.