[78]
The black car was now carrying six people: Kartik driving, Amisha sitting alone on the left rear seat near the window, and the other four—Abhiraj, Aviraj, Aryan, and Abhira—crowded together on the right side like a pack of scared puppies trying to stay as far from the fire as possible.
The children were practically glued to Abhiraj.
Aviraj had pressed himself against the right window, trying to look small.
Aryan and Abhira were squeezed right against their father—Aryan on his lap, Abhira half on his chest, both clinging to him like he was their last shield.
Abhiraj sat in the middle of them, arms around the two smaller ones, looking calm on the outside but clearly feeling the heat radiating from the other side of the car.
Amisha sat by the left window—arms crossed, face turned toward the glass, eyes narrowed, jaw tight.
She wasn’t shouting.
She wasn’t even speaking loudly.
But the silence coming from her was louder than any scolding.
The air felt hot, heavy, like a storm was about to break.
The children could feel it.
Every time one of them shifted, they glanced toward Amisha’s side like they were checking if the volcano had erupted yet.
Abhira—still in her father’s arms—leaned up to Abhiraj’s ear and whispered so softly only he could hear.
“Papa… kya hoga hamare saath?”
Abhiraj whispered back, voice low and dramatic.
“Vo toh ab aapki Mata ji hi jaane…
shayad TV band ho jaaye.
Shayad phone chheen liya jaaye.
Shayad khana na mile.
Shayad Pocket money cut…”
All three children’s mouths fell open in horror.
Abhiraj continued, enjoying himself a little too much.
“Shayad games le liye jaayein…
ya shayad tum logo se baat hi na karein…
ya shayad—”
Before he could finish, Aryan slapped his small hand over Abhiraj’s mouth.
“Papa! Aap toh dara rahe ho… chup ho jao!”
Abhiraj shrugged, eyes twinkling with mischief, but he stopped talking.
Amisha’s head slowly turned.
Her voice came out calm, controlled, but angry—like the calm before a thunderstorm.
“Kya khichdi pakaa rahe ho baap-bete aur beti bhi?”
All four of them—Abhiraj, Aviraj, Aryan, Abhira—immediately turned to her with the most innocent expressions possible.
Eyes wide.
Lips slightly parted.
Hands folded sweetly.
In perfect unison:
“Kuch bhi toh nahi…”
Amisha’s eyebrows shot up.
She sighed—long, deep, tired.
The car kept moving.
Kartik drove in absolute silence, eyes fixed on the road, not daring to make a sound.
The children stayed glued to Abhiraj.
Amisha stared out the window.
The tension was so thick it could be cut with a knife.
The car turned the last bend, and the grand silhouette of Shekhawat Haveli came into view—tall gates, lit courtyard, familiar silhouette against the evening sky.
Kartik slowed the car and stopped right at the main door.
Amisha opened her door first and stepped out, face still tight with anger.
Behind her, Abhiraj got out, holding Abhira in his arms—she was clinging to his neck, eyes wide and slightly scared.
Aviraj and Aryan slid out next, immediately positioning themselves behind their father, almost hiding in his shadow.
They walked toward the entrance.
Minakshi Ma was already waiting at the threshold, hands folded, smile on her face.
“Aa gaye aap log… welcome home.”
Shushila appeared from the kitchen doorway, wiping her hands on her pallu.
“Aa gaye aap log… aap se pehle toh saare kapde aa gaye ghar pe. Aapke room mein rakhvaye hain.”
Amisha hummed in acknowledgment, bending down to remove her sandals.
She placed them neatly on the side rack.
Abhiraj walked ahead, still carrying Abhira.
As soon as they crossed the threshold, Aviraj and Aryan quickly moved in front of him again, trying to hide behind his legs.
Abhiraj reached the main sofa in the living room and gently dropped abhira down.
Then he sat himself, letting out a long, tired breath.
The children immediately huddled around him, whispering.
Aryan: “Bach gaye ham… Mummy ne kuchh nahi kiya.”
Aviraj nodded hopefully.
Aryan continued.
“Mummy toh masoom—”
Before he could finish, a loud thwack! echoed.
Amisha’s sandal flew through the air and hit Aviraj square on the face.
He yelped.
The children screamed and started running in different directions.
Abhira jumped straight into Abhiraj’s lap, horrified, hiding her face in his chest.
Abhiraj’s eyes went wide in shock.
Amisha had never—never—raised her hand or voice in real anger at the children.
This was the first time.
Another sandal flew toward Aryan.
He ducked just in time, smiled triumphantly for a second, then realized the danger and ran again.
Abhiraj tried to intervene.
“Are shant ho jao…”
Amisha snapped at him while chasing Aryan.
“Aap chup rahiye! Aapki hi wajah se aise hain ye teeno!
Kabhi toh daanto inhe… sir pe chadh gaye hain!
Kuchh bolti nahi hu toh kuchh bhi karege!”
Minakshi Ma tried to calm her.
“Are koi baat nahi… maaf kar de.”
Amisha—still running behind Aryan—spoke breathlessly.
“Kya maaf kar de?
Danto na toh ye sudhrenge hi nahi!
Jitna lad karo, utne bigad rahe hain.
Main sochti hu dantu na toh bure effect nhi honge… par ye bina dant ke bade honge hi nahi!”
She was fire now—pure anger at their misbehavior, at the fact that they had followed them all the way to the city alone.
Abhiraj tried again.
“Koi baat nahi…”
Amisha snapped her head toward him.
“Aapko pata tha na ye aaye hain hamare peeche?”
Abhiraj—proudly at first—nodded.
“Mujhe sab pata hota hai.”
Her voice turned dangerously low.
“TOH INHE ROKNA CHAHIYE THA NAAAAAAA!”
Abhiraj realized the storm was now heading his way too.
He quickly pointed.
“Vo dekho… Aryan bhag raha hai.”
Amisha turned.
Aryan froze mid-run, gave a guilty “dagabaz” look, then bolted again.
Rajveer Papa walked in from the inner hall.
“Kya hua Amisha?”
Amisha—still chasing Aryan—spoke loudly.
“Papa… ye log akele hamare peeche city tak aaye hain!”
Rajveer Papa’s eyes widened.
“Akele?”
All three children immediately shouted.
“Bodyguards Uncle ke saath!”
Amisha stopped running for a second, turned to them.
“Aaj aise akele aaye hain… kal kuchh or bada kar denge ye toh!
Maar khane ke layak hi hain!”
The children screamed and ran in circles again.
Abhiraj sat on the sofa, one hand on his forehead.
Amisha finally caught Aryan’s collar.
He squeaked.
“Sorry Mummy!”
She dragged him back.
In their room, the atmosphere was thick with tension.
Amisha sat on the edge of the bed, legs folded beneath her, arms crossed tightly.
Her face was stern, eyes fixed downward on the three children sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of her.
Aryan was breathing heavily like a tired dog after all the running, aviraj one hand holding the side of his cheek where her sandal had hit earlier—red mark still visible, lower lip pouting dramatically.
Abhira kept glancing backward at Abhiraj—who stood leaning against the doorframe behind her, arms folded, expression neutral but clearly not interfering.
Amisha’s voice came out calm but firm.
“Ab bolo… kya karoge tum jab ham ghar pe na ho?”
The three children spoke in perfect union, voices small and rehearsed.
“Chup chap kisi bade ke saath rahenge… koi bhi harkatein nahi karenge.”
Amisha nodded slowly.
“Aur agar kuchh kiya toh kya hoga?”
Again, in perfect sync:
“Kuchh kiya toh daant padegi… aur ghar se nikaal diya jayega.”
Amisha gave a single nod of approval.
Before she could ask another question, Aviraj—trying to lighten the mood—spoke up quickly.
“Rehem kariye na… ab 10 saal ke bachhon ko kitni saza?”
Amisha’s eyebrows shot up.
“Ohhh?”
She leaned forward slightly.
“10 saal ke bachhon ko pata hai ki unpe rehem karna chahiye?”
Aviraj nodded confidently.
“Haan of course… I am smart.”
Amisha’s eyes narrowed.
“Beta… jab tak tum smart the, tab tak chalta tha.
Par ab tum oversmart ho gaye ho.
Aur mujhe oversmartness se nafrat hai.”
She leaned even closer.
“Toh main us oversmartness ko kuchal deti hu. kya karna hai?”
Aviraj blinked.
“Kya?”
Amisha’s voice dropped dangerously low.
“Mere saamne oversmart mat banna.”
She straightened up.
“Dada ho jao yahan se ab.”
The three children immediately stood up.
Aryan: “Hame TV dekhni hai…”
Amisha tilted her head.
“Ohhhh?”
She stood up, pointed toward the door.
“Chalo hall mein.”
In the main hall, Rajveer Papa was sitting on his favorite armchair, watching the evening news on the big TV.
The volume was low, newsreader’s voice droning in the background.
Amisha walked in first.
Behind her came the three children—heads down, shoulders slumped.
Aviraj, Aryan, and Abhira went and sat in three separate corners of the hall on small wooden chairs.
Heads turned toward the wall.
Hands folded in their laps.
No talking.
No moving.
Amisha stood in the center, arms crossed.
“Ab dekho TV… oh sorry—suno TV.
Mundi ghumana mat.
Apni apni deewar mein hi dekhna.
Thik hai?”
The children nodded quickly without turning.
“Thik hai Mummy…”
Amisha continued.
“1 ghante ke baad room mein chale jaana.
Aur aise hi rehna hai toh raho puri raat.”
She gave a small wave.
“Bye babies…”
She turned and walked away toward the room.
The three children stayed exactly as they were.
Heads facing the wall.
Silent.
Rajveer Papa glanced over his newspaper, one eyebrow raised.
Abhiraj—still standing near the doorway—looked at the scene and shook his head with a small, helpless smile.