Chapter 59 Maa ka ashirwad worked wonders #2
“Shola jo bhadke.” Iram sputtered.
“What?” Samar looked at her, scandalised. What were they teaching their child?
Iram tipped her chin at Atharva.
“Seriously? He is what? 2? 3?”
“He has eclectic taste.”
“Tell me that when he is singing it to girls in his Nursery.”
“He already is,” Iram rolled her eyes.
“Like father, like son.”
“You sang to girls?” Iram looked at Atharva. “You said you only sang for me…”
“I did.” Atharva glared at him. “Which girls?” Iram asked him.
“Umm…” Samar trailed, glancing between husband and wife.
“Which girls?” Iram repeated.
“There was this MMS…” Samar started.
“MMS?!”
“Of me singing to these guys.” Atharva cut him off.
“What about girls?”
“There were no girls!” Atharva poked his back hidden from sight.
“Yes, there were no girls.” Samar agreed and got poked again. “Stop poking me, I said there weren’t!”
“You liars.” Iram was glaring at them.
“Myani zuv, I did not sing to girls. Fine, ok, I was singing with these guys and Adil made an MMS and sent it to who knows who and then there was some…”
“Some what?”
“Retaliation,” Samar added, suddenly enjoying this. “MMSs were expensive, and still it circulated among… elite Delhi circles.”
“Then?”
“Then nothing.” Atharva ended the conversation. Iram’s eyes came to him, and Samar, as a responsible citizen, was compelled to tell her. But he moved a few inches away from the poking hand before he opened his mouth.
“A certain mobile number was made public, and then the mobile owner was compelled to change his number.”
A kick pushed him off his perch. Samar toppled, but sat back, laughing. “Easy, my back can’t take it in this cold.”
Another kick and he went off into the freezing grass, his hands getting muddy as laughter rang out around him. Samar quickly settled back on the rug and got kicked again.
“Enough, enough,” Iram got to her feet, laughing. “Atharva, enough. If you want cake, then stop.”
He stopped. “What’s even the use? It’s not mango.”
“It’s strawberry season.” She walked around the bonfire. “Where is Arth, and Dani?” She traipsed inside the house. Samar moved his gaze over the bonfire and caught Amaal looking at him with a strange expression.
His brows rose.
She smiled, shaking her head.
He got to his feet and rubbed his hands together, the freezing mud contracting his muscles.
“What, are you scared of a little mud?” Amaal taunted him.
“Age.” He countered, walking across Atharva’s leg and kicking it as he went. A ball of something cold hit his back and he ducked, running into the house.
“What happened?” Iram startled from the kitchen.
“I just wanted to wash my hands…” he held them away from his body, feeling his fingers freezing into claws. Samar strode to the wash basin outside the hall bathroom and began to turn the tap with his elbow when Iram held up a bowl over his hands.
“This is hot water, don’t use that.”
Samar held his palms out and she poured warm water that mysteriously blew life back into his frozen flesh.
He rubbed his hands together, pumping soap and washing the mud away.
She ran out of water and immediately returned with another warm bowl — “I have been asking Atharva to connect this basin to the boiler,” she said, pouring water over his wrists. “But Janab has his own plans.”
“What plans?”
“He is going to install a heater between this bathroom and this basin. When?” She finished the last of the water and held the bowl back. “When winter will be over.”
Samar chuckled.
“I’ll get you a napkin, wait. Are your hands better? Put on the hall heater and sit there otherwise…”
“I’m fine.” He fisted and unfisted his hands, feeling the bones tight but working well again. “How did you know I was frozen solid?”
She handed him a napkin and moved towards the kitchen — “Amaal told me your grafts give you strange sensations and winters are the worst. I also have some operation stitches, so I know.” She glanced up at him from the cake she was uncovering.
“From the delivery.”
She nodded, a bitter-sweet smile tugging at her lips. Iram looked down and picked up a knife.
“Are you fine now?”
Her head whirled up, and her eyes met his.
Samar didn't have any more words to use to ask what he wanted to ask.
There was so much muddied water under the bridge, so many years passed, so much blood, gore, fire erupted, that nothing he could say now would make any difference.
He was a man of action, not words. He didn't have any.
And yet, he hoped she would see what he was asking for, and from where he was asking it from.
Because… I am sorry seemed so small now. A joke.
She smiled, soft and genuine, the kind that she always smiled at Amaal.
Maybe she got the joke. The I am sorry. Her mouth opened in a small chuckle, and some emotion flitted across her eyes, leaving them shiny.
Then, Iram gave him the forgiveness he did not deserve with just a nod as she began to cut the cake.
“I’ll head out…” he stepped back.
Her head rose and the smile was still there — “I’ll get the cake.”
Samar felt his answering smile rise without any effort, and turned to go.
“Arth? Arth? Call Dani Bhai. It’s cake time.”
“Dani Bhai no come…”
Samar kept smiling to himself, stepping out of the warm house and into the fresh, freezing air. He breathed it in, not having expected that a dozen minutes of his life would make such a difference.
“Washed your hands, delicate Daaxsaab?” Amaal joked from behind the fire.
Samar stepped off the verandah and strode towards them, looking into her eyes.
Laugh it out. There’s a long night to scream.
Her laughter slowed down, her throat working a swallow as she continued to make amused sounds for Atharva’s benefit.
Samar had just settled beside Atharva on the rug when Yathaarth came running — “Cake taaaaime!”
He was such a tornado, his balance now even better as he came hurtling straight towards the fire.
“Arth.” Atharva warned. Samar sprang half up with Atharva, thinking he would stop. But he kept coming, arms out, “Fireindmountain, runrunrun…!”
“Arth, stay back!” Atharva yelled and he froze, his body flinging forward in the momentum. Samar caught him and snatched him away before he tipped. And he burst into tears.
“Arth.” Atharva’s voice softened. But he turned in Samar’s chest and began sobbing. Tiny arms came around him. Samar knew it was nothing, but his chest expanded.
“It’s ok.” He patted the tiny head, settling beside his father. “You were running into fire.”
“I wwww…aaasss… notttt…” he hiccuped.
“You were, Arth,” his father said. “You know it burns, no?”
Atharva’s son kept sobbing in his chest and Samar gave Atharva a triumphant look over his head.
“Drop it.” Atharva scoffed, shaking his head, smiling too.
“Adil chose you to cry on but he chose me.” Samar pointed.
“Because I yelled at him.”
Samar shrugged, wrapping an arm around Yathaarth and holding him close.
“Come on, cake time! Who wants a slice?” Iram’s voice made them all sit up. Yathaarth broke free from his hold and ran, tears forgotten — “Me, me me!”
“Watch where you are going!” Atharva called out, and Yathaarth immediately looked to his right, the fire far away from him.
“First distribute it to everybody.” Iram set the tray down and began handing him paper plates. He went and set one in Amaal’s open palms, walking along the farthest periphery of the bonfire, then came and set another paper plate in his palms.
“Here’s for Baba.” Iram gave him a plate and he spooned some of the cream into his mouth while walking to his father.
He reached there and stood in front of his father.
Samar saw a tiny, angry Atharva look at an amused Atharva.
Then angry Atharva held the plate out, cream stuck on his mouth.
Amused Atharva wiped it off, and accepted the plate before angry Atharva grunted and kissed his cheek.
“What’s that for?” Amaal protested. “Why didn’t I get a kiss with my cake?”
“Bcoz…” Yathaarth said. “Baba let Mama eat frosting and ask for kissies. It called bater.”
Samar burst out laughing along with Amaal.
“Arth!” Iram scolded, mouth open, and Atharva grabbed him in his lap, tickling him to elicit loud howls. They all settled with their cakes. Noora got two.
“We’ve talked about this, beta, no going near the fire,” Atharva was murmuring low to his son. Samar didn’t want to eavesdrop but he could hear it. “What happens if you get too close?”
“Oooooo burn.”
“Yes, ooo burn. And then no playing, no car rides, staying in bed. You want that?”
He shook his head. Samar saw from the corner of his eye Atharva kiss it and spoon a bite of his cake, feeding it into his son’s open mouth. Yathaarth cozied up under his arm and kept eating. Atharva kept feeding.
Samar glanced up, and Amaal was again looking at him with that strange expression. He held up his plate — “Want my frosting?”
She balled up her tissue paper and threw it at him.
“Iram, he is done.” Atharva held the half-finished cake plate out to her as he held Yathaarth already asleep in his other arm. Samar passed the plate and saw Atharva lay his son in his lap and take off his jacket to cover him.
“He was eating just now…” Samar gaped.
“Genetic problem,” Atharva chuckled, running his fingers through his son’s hair. Yathaarth stirred, and blinked up at the sky — “Baba stas…”
“Yes, Dilbaro, stars,” Atharva whispered. “Now close your eyes.”
“Binany stas, Baba…” he tried to push his hand up but Atharva caught it. “We will try to find them tomorrow. Now go to sleep.” Atharva closed his eyes and patted his forehead.
“Binany stars?”
“Binary stars,” Atharva clarified, his voice gone low. “I was teaching him how to locate constellations and Iram introduced a new concept.”
“Binary stars is not a new concept,” Iram argued.
“It’s new for a three-year-old.”
“You told me binary stars are no different from regular stars, only that they occur in pairs…”
“What are binary stars?!” Amaal intervened.