A boy is left behind by his mother and is rescued by a stranger. Soon after, two people are killed.
Twenty five years later, emotions are resurfacing. Ayaan Agnihotri learns that his rescuer is no more but the truth runs deeper than that. So, he emb...
Ayaan waited for Aakriti and Dhruv to finish their breakfast and leave to places they ought to be in. Well, he didn't have to wait long as that happened, not surprisingly, when both left together engrossed in a conversation.
"Mom, what's up with that old bungalow? No one lives there; I doubt even ghosts that once took refuge left the place. But you and Dad are still very much adamant about not selling it." Ayaan started slowly but soon his repeatedly failed attempts to figure out the old bungalow mystery crept into his patience and turned it into frustration.
"Ayaan!" Chhaya chided. If he was Dhruv, he would have shrugged and walked away. Not Ayaan. He stood his ground, crossed his arms and stared her down as she shuffled the tableware. "I... You see... It... It is your Dad's decision."
"So? I will go and ask him then." He turned away to go.
Chhaya stopped him. "No, Ayaan. Listen, Ankush will not entertain your questioning. But I know my son will not rest until I give him an answer." Ayaan got accustomed to the honey dripping words by now and leaned back, preparing his mind to dissect the truth from the honey. "We have a very special connection to the old bungalow. How can we sell it to just anyone?" Ayaan did not answer the rhetoric question. Not that his answer would have mattered anyway.
Chhaya continued. "You want to sell it? Okay, I will not say no. Just that I feel the time is not right. Give me some time. I will talk to Ankush. We will have to evaluate the property. Just because it's not in use, we can't sell it below market value. I am sure you understand this."
Ayaan nodded. This was factual but he didn't get what he wanted. "Yeah, I know Dad will take his own sweet time to decide so that I would forget and not press the issue. Mom, give me a deadline. After that, I will just open it for auction and sell it to the first bidder. It has become a white elephant."
"Six months. Give me six months, I will settle this for sure."
"Six months? Too long. Three months is the maximum I can wait. In the meantime, I will get the agent to do the valuation. I want to spend the amount somewhere productive. Don't get me wrong." Ayaan hugged her; she was his mother after all. "I will see you over lunch. Love you, Mom!"
Ayaan left, taking a call, oblivious to the anger kindling within Chhaya. She had always become powerless before his eyes; despite having nurtured their bearer. That stare always sounded her the warning she heard 25 years ago - "You will never have what is mine".
---
"I have landed." She told the caller. Her eyes moved from end to end finding her name in the melee of people waiting for the passengers at the airport arrival hall. She spotted her name, Deepshika Verma, held by a uniformed chauffeur with the monogram 'A' stitched on the pocket. Soon, she was in a Lexus sedan making her way to the hotel when her mother called.
She answered before her Mom started the questions. "Yes, Mamma. I have landed safely. No problems at the immigration. All arrangements are made. I am going to the hotel now. And yes, I will be vigilant and take care of myself. Anything else?"
"Just take care and know that you are my priority. Whatever happens there, at the end of the day, I want you to come home, come back to me in one piece. Got it?" Her Mamma said in a tone which was both pleading and ordering.
She assured a few more times before hanging up. Leaning back on the leather seat, she lowered the armrest and relaxed her toes from the stilettos. Her plan was simple: enter Mahanidhi and unveil the masks of Agnihotris.
Deepshika looked out of the window, taking in the changing neighbourhoods. This was the country where her parents were born. Both were from the Northern part of India, her father from Meerut and her mother from Ludhiana. Save the few business visits to Delhi and Bangalore, she was not acquainted with the country as well. Though she was born in Ludhiana, her mother relocated with her 2-year old self to Sydney. Her earliest memory was of her playing with her kindergarten friends and her mother watching her from a distance. She had no memory of her father; he had passed away when she was only two years old. She looked out, trying to stop the tears that were forming. The car halted at the traffic junction.
A small girl got down from the bike and ran to a shop with windows filled with soft toys. The biker sighed as he parked the bike away from the road and followed the girl in. Minutes later, the girl walked out gently caressing a pink fur puppy, tucking it under her arm and getting on the bike behind the man. She hugged him and shouted, "My Papa is the best!"
The light turned green and the car moved forward but the visual stayed before Deepshika. The tears clouded the image but she blinked them away, opened her eyes wide to soak in the warmth and love as if she was party to the situation. She was amazed that the little girl's voice reached her beyond the thick glass which kept away the normal chaos away from the quiet interiors. No, it was her own emotional state that pulled her to witness the scene. And she was on her way to finally face those who snatched that happiness from her.
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In the next chapter, Deepshika makes her way to Mahanidhi.
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