THEM 'Ishman'

Can I marry him, dada? (5)

Growing up, I always had one thing in my mind, that my child would have a father whom she/he could warmly call 'father'.

We don’t have the chance or luck to choose someone as our own father, but we do have the chance to choose someone as the father of our child or children.

I strongly believe that your child can choose people in relationships, in friendship, in marriage, in deciding whom they want to remember as cousins or relatives.

A child has all this choice in their hands. But they can’t choose the family they are born into and sometimes, that’s the only thing they truly wish they could.

What a child asks of you is love. You may not realize it, but it holds so much power, it can impact not only their life but also the lives of many others around them.

And one more thing I strongly believe in, try to give what you didn’t have. I mean, if you didn't have a laugh today, try to make someone else laugh.

Love you all so much💛🌻

I am always here for you all🌻

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The name 'Vayu' escaped from Shubman’s trembling lips, his heart drowning in the tears already brimming in his eyes.

His world felt as though it was collapsing, not in loud ruins but quietly, painfully, crumbling drop by drop, tear by tear.

Shubman’s hands began to shake, violently, desperately, the kind of trembling that seizes a person when they lose the most precious part of their soul.

And for Shubman, Vayu was everything.

His whole world.

And now, he had lost him.

“V-v-va… Vayu…” He murmured, the name splintering on his tongue as his mind struggled to grasp what had shattered in a single, cruel instant.

His stammer broke through the silence, raw and helpless, as the weight of realization pressed down on him.

Each passing second deepened the agony in his chest, like time itself had turned against him.

Every heartbeat felt heavier, every breath sharper, as if realization itself was firing bullet after bullet straight into his chest.

The world around him blurred, but the pain stayed, sharp and merciless.

losing Vayu meant losing himself.

Just a second before, he had been the happiest man in the whole world, giggling with his child, and now, a heartbeat later, he was the most broken, his heart aching so terribly it felt like it might tear apart.

“Vayu, aise nahi karte, baccha. Come to your Shuuby, baby… good babies don’t play like this in crowded places. Come here, baccha.” Shubman whispered, his voice thin, brittle, barely louder than the air itself, dissolving into it, as if his very breath had abandoned him.

Tears blurred his eyes now, raw and helpless.

His head snapped desperately in every direction, searching for even the smallest glimpse of his Vayu, his baby, his light.

His chest clenched painfully with each passing second, fear blooming like a bruise in his heart.

And then, without thinking, he started running, his feet pounding against the ground, carrying every bit of his hope towards the candy store.