Chapter 54-A Son
"A boy."
The words barely registered.
Vikram stared at the child in the physician's arms.
Crying.
Moving.
Alive.
Then his eyes snapped toward Vinaya.
"What about her?"
The physician smiled.
"Exhausted. But well."
Vikram's knees nearly gave way.
Vinaya laughed weakly from the bed.
"You look terrible."
He went to her first.
That mattered.
He bent and kissed her forehead.
Then her cheeks.
Then her hands.
"You're here."
Vinaya touched his face.
"So are you."
The baby protested loudly.
Vinaya smiled.
"And apparently someone is offended by being ignored."
The child was placed in her arms.
Vikram stared.
Years ago, another daughter had been offered to him.
He had been afraid.
He had stepped away.
Not this time.
Vinaya looked at him.
"Would you like to hold your son?"
Vikram's throat tightened.
"Yes."
No hesitation.
"Yes."
She placed the baby in his arms.
Vikram looked down.
Tiny face.
Dark hair.
Closed fists.
His son yawned.
Vikram laughed through tears.
"Hello."
The baby squirmed.
Vikram held him closer.
A familiar ache entered his chest.
Ganga.
Always Ganga.
For one moment, grief and joy existed together.
He finally understood that neither diminished the other.
Loving this child did not replace his daughter.
Missing Ganga did not betray his son.
His heart could hold both.
Vikram kissed the baby's forehead.
"I need to tell you something."
Vinaya watched quietly.
"I was a fool once."
She snorted.
Vikram looked offended.
"This is a private conversation between father and son."
"He should know the truth."
Vikram returned his attention to the baby.
"Your mother is very disrespectful."
"She is also sitting right here."
He smiled.
Then his expression became serious.
"I had a daughter before you."
Vinaya's eyes filled.
"Her name was Ganga."
Vikram swallowed.
"She was your sister."
His voice trembled.
"I loved her badly."
Vinaya covered her mouth.
"I thought if I kept myself away, losing her could not destroy me."
He kissed his son's tiny hand.
"I was wrong."
The baby curled his fingers around Vikram's thumb.
The memory struck.
Ganga had done the same thing.
This time Vikram did not pull away.
"I will be afraid for you."
His tears fell freely now.
"Every father is."
He looked at Vinaya.
"But I will never make you pay for my fear."
His gaze returned to his son.
"I will not wait until tomorrow to love you."
The baby slept.
Vikram smiled.
"Because tomorrow is never promised."
Their son did not remain an only child.
Another boy came several years later.
Then another.
And another.
Krishnagiri joked that once the gods finally answered Vikram and Vinaya's prayers, they had become excessively generous.
Their palace became loud.
Painfully loud.
There were wooden swords in corridors.
Muddy footprints on polished floors.
Broken furniture.
Arguments.
Laughter.
Boys climbing things no prince should climb.
Vinaya frequently threatened to send all of them to Ranveer.
Ranveer stopped finding this amusing after the fifth son.
Vikram adored every moment.
He attended lessons.
Told bedtime stories.
Sat beside sickbeds.
Knew favorite foods.
Favorite toys.
Which son feared thunderstorms.
Which pretended not to.
Which preferred horses.
Which loved books.
Which secretly fed sweets to palace dogs.
He knew them.
That became his promise to Ganga.
Not perfection.
Presence.
Years passed.
More sons followed.
And still, no daughter.
At first Vikram laughed about it.
Then, after the sixth son, he began looking toward Ganga's garden with an expression Vinaya recognized.
After the eighth, she caught him counting something beneath his breath.
After the tenth—
Vinaya found him sitting beside the little stone elephant.
His hair was threaded with silver now.
There were lines around his eyes that had not existed when she married him.
She sat beside him.
"Ten sons."
Vikram sighed dramatically.
"Ten."
"You wanted children."
"I did."
"You have them."
"I am aware."
"You wanted a large family."
"I may have been reckless in specifying that."
Vinaya laughed.
Vikram smiled.
Then his fingers moved over the elephant's chipped ear.
"I always wanted another little girl."
Vinaya's laughter faded.
He looked toward Ganga's name.
"Not another Ganga."
There could never be another.
"Just..."
"A daughter," Vinaya finished.
He nodded.
Then he smiled sadly.
"Perhaps ten sons are God's sense of humor."
Vinaya leaned against him.
For the moment, neither of them knew that their family's story was not quite finished.
Onechild was still waiting to come home