From your hand, anything can be stolen.
From your destiny, nothing.
• • •
With a complexion darker than the darkest nights and, a voice sweeter than honey, he was the most charming youth anyone had seen.
Children and animals of all kinds were his f...
Grief destroys one's courage. It destroys one's learning. It destroys one's everything. There is no enemy greater than grief.
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Weekends arrived early for Somu.
Getting ready before the sun was out, he would leave the house with an empty bag and an apple. Taking his cycle, he would go to the post office, collect the newspapers for distribution, after which he would be paid a sum of seventy rupees for his service.
Somu lived with his mother and grandmother, who was usually on the bed, resting. His father had given into gambling when he was just a child of five.
His house comprised of three small rooms. One where he studied, ate and slept. Another was the kitchen and the third for bathing. In the first room, right next to the kitchen, was a peacock feather, surrounded by incense sticks.
Earlier a golden statue of Krishna adorned that spot. But Somu's father, neck deep in debts, had sold every belonging in the house including the statue.
Somu's grandmother, Susheela, would decorate it everyday and sometimes fuss over him. She would call him, Putr Shyam, out of her deep love for him. Somu would often take the peacock feather from his crown, in a playful manner, and get chased by Susheela around the entire house.
The feather would always remind her of her son, Shyam. She would miss fussing over him, chasing Somu around the house for taking the feather, feeding him the sweets before Somu could steal them and share it among his friends.
She missed the times when his smiling face could give her immense joy and peace. When she would get extremely upset over the situations, she would go to the temple and get lost in his devotion.
Somu's mother worked in a factory, where she would earn enough to feed and clothe them and, pay for his education.
Seeing Somu walk out of the house early in the morning to work, Susheela began to weep.
"Putr Shyam, if you have ever regarded me as your mother then answer me. Why does my grandson have to suffer because of his father. Isn't he also your son? Why are they suffering? It's my son who created this mess. I should be the one punished, not them. Shyam, please make everything better." Tears rolled down her cheeks as he joined her hands together, tightly in deep sorrow.
"Things cannot go back as they were before, but I will make them better. I promise you mother." She heard a sweet, melodious voice and fell asleep.
Somu had finished distributing half the newspapers in the entire village. Working on an empty stomach, tired him out and he sat down under a tree.
"What are you doing here, so early in the morning?" Madhav asked sitting beside him. He placed a basket of fruits on the ground.
"Delivering newspapers. Do you wake up this early, brother?"
"No, but someone close to me kept crying and I cannot sleep over their pain."
"Who is crying brother?"
"My mother is crying." Madhav replied, giving Somu a few fruits.
He accepted the fruits. "Brother, what did you do to make your mother cry? It isn't good to make your mother cry. My granny says, anyone who makes their mother cry are bad. Are you a bad son, brother?"
"I didn't mean to." He answered sadly.
"Bhaiya, you know... that day, when we went home from the other road, we found an old man. He fell down because of the heat. We helped him --"
"Aren't you getting late?" He interrupted.
"Yes, I must get going. Bye, Madhav bhaiya." Standing up, Somu dusted his pants. "Thank you for such tasty fruits."
• • •
Madhav felt a pair of hands around him.
Looking down, he found Rama hugging him tightly. She flashed a beautiful smile at him, her cheeks turning pink.
"Hi Rama." Madhav greeted, putting his basket down.
"Rama!" Inder panted, halting beside them. "Why do you keep running away? Atleast hold my hand and run."
"Good morning, Inder." Madhav smiled.
"Hi bhaiya!" Inder beamed. "How are you? Are you going to join us today? Is your friend going to come too? We're going to the lake today."
Madhav and Rama giggled.
"I mean..." Inder mumbled, rubbing the back of his head in embarrassment.
"It's alright, Inder." Madhav smiled. "Yes, I'll be coming today. And so will my friend."
"Great!" Inder beamed. "What are these fruits for?"
"These? I got them for you all. Let's have them after playing."
"But I don't think Rama will be able to join us." Madhav pointed.
Inder looked at his sister. "You won't play with us, Rama?"
She shook her head. Picking up two fruits from the basket, she pointed towards the big tree that stood behind the temple.
She pout in response. Madhav watched their exchange.
"Fine." He gave in. "But don't talk to strangers. And if it starts raining, go into the temple."
Nodding happily, she ran away towards the tree.
"Where is she going?"
"Behind the temple, and under the big tree, there's an idol of Krishna. Rama considers him to be her best friend and spends all her time there. Since me and my friends nearby, I let her go. But we're going to the lake today..."
"Don't worry. She'll be safe." Madhav assured.
Pulling his flute to his lips, he played a tune as Inder and he walked down to the lake.
"Who is playing this beautiful tune, Urmilla?" Radha asked.
"It must be Madhav, Di." Urmilla replied, closing her eyes.
The tune made her feel at peace and Abhiram, sitting on her lap had a smile on his face.
Radha closed her eyes to feel the tunes. Her burning and wounded heart too, felt at peace.
