CHAPTER 37
PRATAP WALIA
Same Day Late Morning
I sit cross-legged on the soft play mat in the living room, my kurta sleeves rolled up to my elbows, ready to embrace a rare moment of pure joy. My grandchildren, Veer and Avika, are perched on either side of me, their squeals of delight bouncing off the walls and filling every corner of the room with life and laughter.
Avika wriggles closer and hands me a plush rabbit, her tiny fingers curling around mine as if commanding me to play along. Her bright eyes twinkle with mischief, and I can’t help but chuckle at her innocent expression.
“Oh, you want Daadu to play with this?” I ask, kissing her chubby little hand. She giggles, and the sound of her laughter instantly lifts my mood, washing away the exhaustion lingering from the intense NEP party meeting I’d just wrapped up in my home office.
Healthcare policies, rural development, infrastructure plans—all of them are important, but none of them compares to this. To my granddaughter. To my grandson. To them.
Veer suddenly squeals and climbs into my lap, a toy truck clutched in his tiny hands. I pick him up effortlessly, lifting him high above my head as he bursts into a fit of giggles. His laughter is loud, contagious, and also the most beautiful sound in the world.
“And you, my little tiger,” I grin, pulling him back down and holding him close. “Your birthday is coming up soon, isn’t it? You’re going to be one year old!”
I bounce him gently on my lap, his little fingers clutching at my kurta. “And let me tell you, Veer,” I whisper conspiratorially, tapping his nose, “For your birthday, Daadu is going to plan the grandest celebration this family has ever seen. No one in this house will ever forget it.”
Veer babbles something incoherent, patting my face with his small, soft hands. His touch tugs at my heart, and I press a kiss to his cheek, enjoying this moment with my grandson.
“But first, young man,” I say, feigning seriousness as I adjust him on my lap, “you owe me something.”
Avika tilts her head curiously, and Veer stares at me with wide eyes, blinking as if waiting for my next words.
“You still haven’t called me Daadu,” I say, pretending to scold him. “Come on now, say it. Daa-du!” I repeat, drawing out each syllable slowly.
Veer grins at me, chortling in delight as if mocking my attempt. I laugh, pulling him into a tight hug while Avika claps her tiny hands as though she’s cheering us on.
“Did you hear that, Avika?” I say, turning to her. “Your brother is teasing Daadu. He’s doing it on purpose, isn’t he?”
The moment Avika hears the word, she immediately chirps, “Daadu!” in her tiny, excited voice, just like she always does.
I chuckle, turning back to Veer, pretending to sulk. “You won’t call me Daadu, but Avika will.” I laugh heartily as Avika giggles again, clearly pleased with herself.
Veer watches the exchange with curious eyes before breaking into another wide, mischievous grin, as if enjoying this little game.
“Oh, so you think this is funny now?” I tease, tickling his belly as he bursts into uncontrollable giggles.
Avika, clearly entertained, crawls closer to my lap, her eyes now fixed on Veer. The moment feels precious, like a little slice of peace in a life otherwise ruled by chaos. In a world of endless responsibilities, packed political schedules, and high-stakes decisions, I rarely get the chance to simply be a grandfather. But today, I’ve stolen time for myself and for them, and I’m not letting it go to waste.
Now, Avika tugs at my kurta, her tiny voice babbling something I don’t quite catch.
“Oh, you want me to play with you too?” I laugh, scooping her up with one arm while still holding Veer in the other. “Fine, both of you. Daadu is officially your personal toy now. What should we play?”
The door creaks open, and I glance up to see Vishnu stepping inside. His broad frame fills the doorway, but it’s his expression that immediately catches my attention. His sharp features are tense, his brows furrowed, and his jaw clenched in a way that I instantly recognise. Something is wrong.
“Vishnu,” I call out, still holding both children close. “What’s the matter?”
He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he stands near the seating area, his hands resting on the back of a chair as he exhales sharply.
“I’ve told your secretary to reschedule all your meetings for the week,” he finally speaks.
“Reschedule?” I blink, confused. “Why? What’s going on, Vishnu? Why are you rescheduling my meetings?”
His jaw tightens, and for a moment, he looks as though he’s battling an internal storm.
“We’ve identified Simran’s stalker.”
My chest tightens as I wait for him to continue.
“It’s Qureshi’s son, Dad,” he says, his voice low but seething with fury. “Zayed Qureshi.”
“What?” The name hits me like a physical blow, and for a second, I’m stunned. Qureshi. That name has haunted us for years, but I never imagined it would resurface like this.
“He’s not after Simran,” Vishnu continues, his voice hardening with every word. “He’s after us—the Walias, Dad. He’s been waiting all these years to take revenge for his father.”
I’m momentarily speechless. The name Qureshi brings back a flood of memories, all of them dark and bitter.
“I didn’t know… I didn’t know he had a son waiting in the shadows like this,” I murmur, rising up from the mat, leaving my two grandkids to their games. I reach the chair where Vishnu is standing.
“He blames me, Dad. He believes I’m the reason his father is dead. In his twisted mind, I killed Qureshi, pushing him to end his life. And now, he wants to fulfil his father’s so-called last wish—to wipe the Walias off the face of the earth.”
My mind reels at this revelation. I struggle to piece together the motives of a man who hadn’t even been in the picture back then.
“What does he mean you killed his father? Qureshi shot himself!”
“Exactly,” Vishnu snaps, his rage boiling over. “But Zayed doesn’t see it that way. He was present there that night at the Panvel farmhouse. He was watching everything.”
“What?” The thought chills me. “He was there?”
Vishnu nods, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turn white. “He saw me expose his father for everything he was. He saw me cornering Qureshi with the truth—with his crimes. He saw his father fall apart, choosing death over his humiliation and disgrace. And now, he blames me for all of it. He says I provoked his father and left him with no choice but to pull the trigger.”
I press a hand to my temple.
“How can he think that? His father was the one who started it all. It was Qureshi who tried to kill me, who orchestrated that sniper attack. And it was his sins—his money laundering, human trafficking, corruption—that we exposed. He was the one who couldn’t face the consequences of his own actions.”
Vishnu’s jaw tightens further. “But Zayed doesn’t care about the truth, Dad. He’s inherited his father’s darkness. Instead of accepting that Qureshi brought his end upon himself, he’s twisted it into a mission for revenge. Zayed is hell-bent on avenging him. He’s been planning this for years—waiting, watching. This isn’t just about Simran or me—it’s about the entire Walia family. He won’t stop until he’s destroyed us all.”
I struggle to comprehend the depth of Zayed’s hatred.
“I can’t believe this. He’s spent years nurturing this grudge. He’s blinded by his father’s lies and is unable to see the real picture—that it was Qureshi’s own crimes that led to his end. And now, he’s targeting us because he refuses to accept the truth.”
Vishnu takes a step closer. I notice his veins bulge along his neck and forehead, barely containing his rage.
“This isn’t just a grudge, Dad. This is a cold, calculated revenge. He used Simran to lure me out, to weaken our defences. Every move he’s made has been deliberate. And now he’s made his intentions crystal clear—he’s coming for you.”
“What?” I breathe, my pulse quickening.
Vishnu grits his teeth. “I got a call from him early this morning. He threatened me. He said he’s coming here—to this house—within the next six days. And he promised to make sure you don’t live to see the next day.”
I’m shocked, speechless to even think of anything. For a moment, the only sound in the room is that of Veer’s soft babbling, blissfully oblivious to the tension around him.
I try to calm myself, but my heart pounds against my chest.
“That’s why I’ve rescheduled all your meetings for the week,” Vishnu says firmly. “You’re not leaving this house, Dad. I’ve already tightened the security around Walia Mansion. There’s increased patrolling, and Ayaan is sending a backup team today to reinforce everything.”
“Vishnu,” I shake my head, clearing my thoughts as I force myself to respond. “I appreciate what you’re doing, but I won’t let his threats disrupt my responsibilities. I know this family is under threat, but I can’t allow it to derail my work. I already have high-level police protection, your highly trained guards, and now even Ayaan’s professional team. Qureshi’s son cannot simply walk through all of that. And besides…” I pause, trying to meet my son’s blazing gaze, “I know that as long as my son is by my side, nothing will happen to me or this family. I won’t let these threats lock me inside this house.”
Vishnu’s eyes flash with fury, and he steps closer, his presence as commanding as it is furious.
“This is not an empty threat, Dad,” he growls, his voice rising. “And I won’t take it lightly. If he comes here…” He stops, his jaw tightening as if the thought itself fuels his rage. “He’s going to die. I’ll make sure of it. No more leniency for your enemies. I know the law is meant to punish them, but when someone threatens my family like this and comes this close to hurting them, then I won’t wait for the law. I’ll deal with him myself.”
The intensity in his stance, his eyes, and his words is raw and terrifying. My son is like a storm, about to unleash its full force, and he means every word he says.
“Vishnu, calm down,” I urge, though I know it’s unlikely to cool the fury burning inside him. “You will do no such thing. We will let the law handle this.”
“The law takes time,” Vishnu counters, glaring at me, struggling to rein in his laboured breaths. “And this time, you cannot bind me with your promises, Dad. This is my fight. I’ll set the rules, and I’ll decide how it ends.”
“Vishnu,” I sigh, my heart heavy with concern. I know my son would walk through fire to protect this family, but his anger clouds his judgement, blinding him to the consequences of his actions. “Listen to me carefully. You are going to be the Party President soon. You’ve worked hard for this position, for the respect that you’ve rightfully earned. I don’t want incidents like this to tarnish your image. You’re a fierce protector, a true survivor. But in your quest to protect us, don’t end up being the executioner. You don’t have to stoop to their level to win this battle.”
I soften my voice, hoping to reach the part of him that still values and listens to reason.
“And above all, I don’t want to lose you. Do you understand that? You are my son, and I want you alive and safe more than anything in the world. Think about Veer and Simran, Vishnu. You are not alone anymore. You can’t make decisions like this without thinking about them first—about what they’d lose if something ever happened to you.”
For a moment, he doesn’t respond. His jaw clenches, his fists tighten, and the fire in his eyes doesn’t dim. But I can see the slightest flicker of hesitation—an acknowledgement, however brief—that my words have reached him. I pray it’s enough to hold him back, even if just for a moment longer.
But Vishnu doesn’t back down. His shoulders stiffen as he shakes his head in frustration.
“People like Zayed, who can meticulously plan revenge for years, know how to manipulate the law and buy time. I won’t give him that chance again. I won’t let him plan another attack on us. If he’s coming here, there’s only one outcome—he’s going to die. I’ll make sure of it. And you, Dad, are staying at home until this threat is neutralised. No arguments.”
I know arguing with him is pointless. Vishnu won’t rest until he ensures this family is safe—no matter the cost. I finally relent, even though we both know I didn’t really have a choice.
“Reschedule my meetings and do whatever you need to ensure our safety, but you can’t stop me from celebrating Veer’s birthday. He’s turning one in two weeks, Vishnu, and we’ve already missed so many precious milestones with him. Not anymore. I won’t miss this one. Please.”
His expression doesn’t budge, not even a little.
“I’m planning a grand celebration at our Alibaug farmhouse,” I continue, my voice calm but insistent.
“Dad, this isn’t the time—” he begins, but I raise my hand, cutting him off.
“I’ve already made my decision,” I say, standing firm. “This family needs something to look forward to—a moment to celebrate and actually live, not just survive in fear. Veer deserves that, and as his daadu, I won’t let anyone stop me.”
Vishnu’s jaw tightens, and he’s about to argue when, suddenly, a tiny, little babble cuts through the heavy tension in the room.
“Daa…du!”
We both freeze. My heart skips a beat as I spin around to see Veer still sitting on his playmat with Avika, his chubby little hand waving at me, a big, joyous smile lighting up his face. Tears well up in my eyes as I rush over to pick him up.
“Veer! Did you just call me Daadu?” I ask, my voice trembling with emotion.
He giggles, his tiny hand patting my cheek, and shaking his head mischievously. I pull him close, hugging him tightly and kissing his soft hair.
“Oh, don’t fool your Daadu, little boy,” I laugh.
“Daa…du,” he repeats, this time more confident, and my heart soars. For a moment, everything feels perfect.
I missed hearing Vishnu call me ‘Dad’ when he was Veer’s age. I missed those moments entirely—the innocence in his voice, the pure joy of being called a father—because back then, I’d failed him. I failed to acknowledge him as my son before the world. Even later, when Vishnu was with me, he still chose not to call me ‘Dad,’ and I had no one to blame but myself. I wasn’t there for him when he needed me the most, when he needed his father the most.
But now, hearing my grandson proudly call me Daadu, addressing me with so much love, his little eyes filled with adoration, it feels like life has given me a second chance. That one word doesn’t erase the mistakes I’ve made, but it’s enough to ease some of the guilt that has haunted me for years. As Veer’s tiny arms wrap around my neck, the ache in my heart softens a little, and it feels like a piece of the wound is finally starting to heal.
I glance at Vishnu, who stands rooted in place, his expression shifting from shock to something softer. The tension in his face melts away, if only for a fleeting moment.
“You heard that, Vishnu?” I say, my voice full of joy. “He called me Daadu! After weeks of trying, he finally said it!”
Vishnu nods slowly, his hardened expression giving way to a faint smile. Although the storm is far from over, for the first time in a long while, I see a hint of peace in my son’s eyes, even if it is just for a moment.