Glossary: Pazhaiyedu/ Pazhaiaya Saadham/ Pazhaiya soru is traditional cooked rice soaked in water overnight and eaten the next day for breakfast. It can also be drained and eaten with plain yoghurt, and raw onions or green chillies for sides. It is one of the healthy and filling breakfasts. And ofcourse, there's no food wastage in case of leftovers.
***
Water wastage figure in Chennai is about twenty percent.
We have to act now to save the future. Change can begin with small measures such as turning off the tap while brushing your teeth, fixing leaks, using low discharge toilets and faucets, running dish and laundry cleaners on full load.
But if you ask Raghav, he'd simply say, desist yourself from taking showers everyday.
Showers are typically the third largest water use after toilets and clothe washers—google had said. And ever since he had learnt the fact, he'd decided he would do his contribution to saving the environment by not taking daily, long showers.
It was his least favorite errand of the day—initially, he just needed an excuse to not take showers daily—but then he had actually started bathing with a bucket and mug, everyday, because living in Madras and practically, meandering the city in bike all day would make him clammy with sweat which he did not want.
If someone told Raghav, they'd actually shower and not bathe, he'd not mind drenching them with his facts and send them home with a bucket and mug.
It was ten-forty-five on a tuesday morning and a just-bathed-Raghav plodded across his room from the bathroom, wearing nothing but a malachite green khadi towel, draped around his waist—smelling clean and good.
Dera was reposing his stretched body in the mat that Raghav had rolled out for him, putting up a damned ghastly face, his grey eyes visibly delinquent and lowered.
And Raghav was the one to be damned, when he figured out his leaves of script—some of them clipped out of the writing pad, and some of them ripped into cords with drool blotting them, severed around and disjected—with a look of ruefulness in the very angular face lying before him.
Dera had not pulled strings to fret Raghav in the couple of days, he'd been here.
Today was the time in his schedule to do that.
Sucking in a harsh breath, Raghav impelled an insolent glare at Dera, his brows tightened in irritation. "Did you do that?" His voice sounded sullen, tallying those expressions on his bearded face. Dera lowering his remorseful eyes further, swung his face to his right, towards the wall. The nerve of this boy.
Raghav navigated himself to where Dera had turned, "Look at my eyes, Dera; why did you do that? Why did you mistake my script for your chew toy?" he pried grimly, bowing down to him. Dera swayed his head away from him, once more. Raghav, gratingly, followed Dera's head swing—and this way he thought, he'd make Dera more guilty for leaving him in such disaster.
"I said, look at me," Raghav grunted, studying Dera in a bitter stare—he was still glowering, not upping his eyes. Raghav's features quivered a little, when another deep, crude exhale escaped his body, as he threw his hands over his shoulders in air, in utter indignation.
It was the script he was going to begin rehearsing from the day after and perform this Saturday—the script that he had thought as the best of him, so far—the one he had lost his sleep over, to complete revising; and the one he could never, ever revive back to life, as it was.
Raghav admonished himself as much as he did Dera—he shouldn't have left this script papers as such when Dera was here. How would Dera know it was the best script he had come up with in his life, so far. With the realization setting in, he rubbed his temples, blowing out a dejected exhale.
He sank down to the floor, squatting in front of the torn, wet strings of paper. Sheer distress took up his face at the closer perusal of it, "Goddammit, Dera. You're a bad boy; bad, bad boy—and there's no change in it," he growled under his breath, gathering the papers in his hands.
Just when he was puttering around his room, his hands clasping the writing pad loaded with bits of wet paper on it, his phone jingled. Sighing impatiently at it, he left the pad at his night stand and fumbled for the phone, tossing off the shriveled blanket over his head, on the bed.
Bumbling on his bed for few more seconds, Raghav found his phone—it was flipped in the middle of the bed, but dormant at its best—and the sound of ringing was still drifting through to him.
He raised to his heels and chucked a glance at the empty hallway from where the phone's ringing was sailing in, as Raghav could discern.
The phone was still jingling, as he traipsed out of his room with just his towel on; it was only him and Dera in there, so he just did not care. Himani must have skipped to take it before leaving to work—they had the same phones with the same ringtones—the custom Apple ringtone.
When he spotted the glimpse of her phone, it was chiming, jarring against the surface of the TV table. Sauntering over to it, he took the phone in his hands—the caller ID read Anusha School. He chose to stand blankly, watching the phone's display flashing, flashing, flashing and silencing. Raghav thought it was not fair to pick up phone calls that came to her, when she was not around—they were not that close, anyway.
So he simply put the phone back in its place as the too quiet space of the living room began to be filled with the phone's bell, with the same caller ID again. Raghav gave his best attempt in not trying to mind the perpetual ringing of Himani's phone whilst he had ambled back to his room to get back to his business.
In the next ten minutes, he was clad in a round neck teal coloured tee shirt, a pair of dusty trousers and the phone hadn't ceased ringing all through it. Three minutes into it, he had even handled to find a right pair of socks, and the phone was, still, endlessly making noise; making Raghav maneuver himself to the living room to pick the ringing phone up, depriving him of the right and forbearance to ignore it.
Raghav picked up the phone and took it to his ears with reluctance.
"God, Himani, finally you picked up. Hrutvi.. Hrutvi needs you." A female voice blanched off of the calmness, spoke out from the other side, "She has not talked a word since this morning—not even to Vidhyut—and had a meltdown in the classroom. We tried contacting Mythraeyi, but she is not answering the call." Her voice was weak and shaking, with her irrational breathing choking her words, intermittently.
Eyes widened at the unforeseen implication, Raghav let his voice out, "Hi, Uhmm.. this is not Himani. She has left her phone behind at home, and I am her paying guest," he said, his brows drawing together, not just because of she sounded too perplexed—but, he was upright unfamiliar about the names he had heard from her, except two.
Himani had a cousin, who was a grade-one assistant professor at IIT-Madras and her name was Mythraeyi—Raghav had discovered that the other day, when they were dining in at Himani's workplace. He was rambling how he wanted to watch a rocket launch in live, and civilians wouldn't be allowed there without an insider's recommendation. To which Himani had perked up saying her cousin's senior was one of the scientists in the panel of the previous project and she might possibly help him, with the recommendation part. And he did not miss remembering it by the mention of her name.
Raghav heard the woman dash an exhausted sigh on phone, "My bad, Is there an alternate way to contact Himani? Do you have her workplace number?" She asked, her words speeding up, "I tried contacting their mother, but she is not answering the call either. We have to get her to the hospital—she needs it—and her mom or Himani or someone she is familiar with."
Raghav had no take in it, and had absolutely no clue about what was happening and how could he partly be responsible for, to work through this situation, right in front of him.
Straing irresolutely into the cement flooring, he replied, "Oookay, how can I help you, right now?" He had it totally presumed there was an emergency out there, and the person she was worrying about was a kid. Raghav would never wither off, disregarding it.
"Could you please contact Himani and ask her to be at the hospital while we take her there?"
"Sure, I can do that, but Himani seldom takes calls while she is at work. I think, it's close to impossible to meet at her work, because her management didn't let me do that, when I'd been there." Since, he heard her tell it was a strait he thought he should not risk it up by dwindling the time in trying to get Himani in the picture—getting the kid's mom would be more effectual.
Contemplation pitching around in his mind, he added, "I could try getting her mom though."
"That'd suffice, Gentleman; thank you. She knows the clinic's whereabouts."
Hanging up on the call, he sprinted back to his room to bump into Dera, who was lying on his mat.
"Having a good boy face doesn't mean you're one," Raghav's thick voice floated in as he jogged around his bed to collect his phone and wallet. He scuttled in his actions, as he continued talking, "I find you messing up once again with anything in this house, when I come back; you're grounded," he said admonitaringly, "Oh, I will tell your mom how you snuck out to thulp pizza the other day, when you're not allowed to eat it," he sneered, arching a warning eyebrow at Dera.
He picked up his bike's key and as he strode out of his room, he grabbed Himani's phone as well.
Initially, Raghav apprehended if it'd be good enough to contact the administration office inside the IIT campus. Then he just decided to drive in there and acquaint Mythreyi in person, going against his initial thought. It was an utmost sensible issue to parents when it concerned their kids and he'd not want to terror her by a bland phone information. Needless to say, he did not want to risk the kid's situation more.
With Khushi's sabbatical, their team had a week's time of respite. Raghav thought he'd just consume this plentitude of time to work on his incomplete projects, he had been heaping with a passel of excuses since forever. Albeit, in case of shortage of staff, he knew he might have to bustle to his workplace to fill in, along with Meena.
But he had never depicted himself in the exact state of where he was right now. Someone he had known or not, Raghav would never be able to detest aiding in, carelessly, in such casualty. Even if it was the littlest he could do, he would choose to do it, with what he can rather brushing it aside.
He had managed to reach the campus check-post in the next half hour under the sultry weather. It took another good twenty minutes to figure out where Astro-engineering block was, and to reach Mythreyi inside the monster of a campus. When Raghav found people buzzing with their own chores, he proceeded along the aisle of the corridor frisking for administration office. He said what he needed to, to the first man that came out to Raghav, asking who he was—and was asked to wait, until someone approached him about Mythraeyi.
Within five minutes, a woman seemingly in her forties walked down to Raghav, with an inquisitive glare through her descended reading glasses, "Ms. Mythraeyi Mukund is in the middle of supervision. What do you want mister?" She probed him, folding both of her arms to her bosom.
It was why she had not answered the phone call—if she'd been in regular classes and all that, anyone would have been mystified and worried for such incessant calls and would choose to answer it. "I see, there's an emergency. Could you please let me meet her?" he asked, giving his best shot at being polite.
"But there's an examination going on—" she stated, her tone very matter-of-factly.
"Her daughter is in emergency and needs her," was all the woman needed to hear before she brushed past him, muttering, "Alright, she'll be here ASAP."
"Excuse me."
Raghav chinned up from his phone to a very round face and a pair of big, troubled obsidian eyes—she had a cordial beauty that reminded too much of Suhasini, to him. His lips tweaked in a teeny smile before he let her be mindful about the happening—and did not fail to notice the barrelling shift of expressions on her amicable, soft face. Mythraeyi excused herself from him to get her handbag and acquaint the people in there of her absence for the rest of the day, prior to setting out to the hospital.
Raghav chucked her a short glance in sideways, as they scrambled down the corridor to where he had parked his bike. Her brows were construed to a very bothered frown. She was holding her handbag pressing to her body in a depending grip, and with the long, inmost breathing she was holding on, her features seemed to shiver a little and had her gaze heedless as though her head was clouded, saddling her down.
"She is going to be alright, don't worry," Raghav managed to find his voice, at the sight of her jittery features. Mythraei boosted her head to his bleak face and felt her vision turn blurry. "I really hope so, Raghav. Hrutvi is very anxious for an eight-year-old child." She struggled in not letting the tears drip down her cheeks, as her mouth trembled, while she spoke her voice cracking in agony. "Did the teacher say anything else?"
Raghav thought for a second before he answered, "Uhm.. just that she had not talked since she went to school, this morning—" Mythraeyi hassled in, "Usually, when she is unable to talk to others, she talks to Vidhyut or one of us." It was more like a mutter, reminding herself that she might have talked to Vidhyut and restoring some assurance in her—may be, everything was not as dreadful as she'd thought.
"She is going to be alright." She mumbled again, as though it was her prayer for the moment. And Raghav decided to let it be that way by not telling the rest of the information he had in his hand.
Hopping on to his bike, he nodded at her—his smile, gentler and relieving. "I am sure of it. I don't think hailing a cab or getting a bus is a good idea, right now," he said, clasping his helmet to put it on. "So, why don't you simply hop on and tell me where to go?"
Mythraeyi, perched on the pillion seat, instructed him the route to the clinic.
Vishranti Health Centre—not a vast, browbeating hospital, rather a peaceful, humble mental health clinic—was in less than five miles from the campus. By the time they'd reached the clinic, it was not stalled of it's usual crowd. A little over four patients were scattered in chairs and a couple of the staffs were shuffling around the hallway. And Raghav had been here, before.
Mythraeyi approached the reception, as Raghav followed. "Hrutvi Prasad, eight-year-old kid," She sputtered, her heart clenching at her chest. This had been happening for quite some time, now but she had never seen Hrutvi have a meltdown and being called from the school in the middle of the day, anyway.
The receptionist wavered at the room, behind her, "She is in observation over there Madam. Please follow," she insisted swirling on her heels towards the door she pointed.
Raghav chose to follow after her through the door squiring into a dragging, naturally-lit condo. The woman from the front-desk held the third door open for a short moment until Mythraeyi entered and spun around to Raghav. "Are you the father?" She asked, her kohled eyes narrowed down skeptically at him, her voice turning crass—as if she was disenchanted at the idea of him being the father.
Raghav's eyebrows vaulted up, appropriated at the question. "Do I look like a father!" he asked as wryly as he could.
"Fine, then let the child be with her mother for sometime. Be seated here," she said, waving at the chairs and walked off to the front desk. Another woman from the room stepped out and proceeded to the reception with an anxious face—must be that Anusha School, he thought.
Raghav slopped down at the chair right next to the door; tipping forward and twisting his head he whacked to peep through the door. It wasn't a see-through glass. He flopped back at the backrest of the chair, his head touching the wall behind him, the tension and strain in his shoulders waned off, slowly.
Mythraeyi had blabbed him on their way that she needed to get in touch with Himani as soon as they reached the clinic. If this had happened to Suha or Khushi or Meena, he'd never leave their side until they were okay. He had to be here, at least until Himani came. Mythraeyi needed someone to her backing—Himani or someone—it was very much plain and pointed. So he simply decided he would stay.
The idea of calling up the hotel management inquiring for Himani was the one that still kept reeling in his head. He fished for the phone from his pocket to google the hotel's contact number. And once he did, he dialled it up and asked for Himani.
It took close to five minutes to heed a half-panting, half-hazy voice on the line. "Raghav?" Himani, practically, tried not to grin—and not to let him sense the grin through her voice.
"Hi, you've left your phone at home," he reported glancing down at the tiny, juvenile frame scrabble through the door. A boy, almost not more than nine year old, shuffled over to the seat next to Raghav's.
Himani twisted her lips. "I realised it only after reaching here, so just couldn't do anything about it." She replied with a fidgety smile, "Is there something you need to tell me? Why is this call, anyway?"
The boy lodged his school bag in the place next to him and flung a scrutinizing look at Raghav through his thick, cerulean-blue glasses, shoving it over the bridge of his nose with his little fingers, as Raghav continued on phone, "There is something you need to know—but don't panic, okay?" Raghav set it down, his voice tender. Himani's chest warmed over it but the very utterance of asking her not to panic, overwhelmed the former feeling.
She sighed out loud, "Please explain."
And he did.
"Are you sure you can drive on your own?" he solicited, once he had narrated everything to her. His voice was nothing like the usual one. It was deep but calm—and did not flunk to blazon Himani that he was honestly considerate. It was not the right time to swoon over it, but her stupid, stupid heart wouldn't just obey. She despised herself for momentarily forgetting the plight she was in, and the sob she'd just muffled down her throat seemed to clog down her words. She blinked through a screen of tears that'd veiled her eyes.
"Himani, are you okay? I asked you if you can drive on your own?"
She bit her lip as she struggled to tackle with the bittersweet ache in her heart and managed to breathe back a reply. "Yes, I can."
"Do you know the place?"
"Yes, I do."
When Raghav had hung up the call and switched his glances to his next seat, the boy was still observing Raghav, with brooding expressions on his face.
Raghav put his hand out, leveling his gaze to the boy's, "I am Raghav." he said, a tiny smile scattered on his face. The boy's wide eyes dangled over the hefty palm right in front of him and then to Raghav's smiling, brown eyes.
He was still, but not more than for a moment, before taking Raghav's generous hand. "Vidhyut," he muttered. "You're friends with my Amma?" he asked, tipping his chin up so that he could meet Raghav's gaze properly.
Raghav pursed his lips together at the genuine reply he could give, "Not yet." He shook his head and added, "But I am friends with Himani."
"Where is Himani?" Vidhyut asked, his baby eyes still analytical about something.
"She is on the way, I just informed her about all this."
Vidhyut nodded his head speechlessly, and remained unexpressed further, until Mythraeyi shambled past him. She touched his shoulder lightly, "Shouldn't you have your lunch by now, Vidhyut?" She enquired leniently, looking down at her wrist watch; and gently fondling tiny wisps of his jet black hair. Raghav glanced at her—she looked stale and exhausted with the tear-stricken face.
Vidhyut's eyes flickered debatably, thrice. "But... but.. I always eat with Hrutvi," he muttered, still unsure if he should look up at his mom. A smile streak tugged at Raghav's lips, at it.
"Amma can feed her once she is alright. Please, don't refuse to eat, Kannaa," she cajoled her son. However, he did not seem convinced with that answer but he acknowledged it, anyway. "Okay, Maa."
"Good boy. I will see if Hrutvi is okay to eat. You can sit here and have your lunch." Mythraeyi returned to the door, as Vidhyut zipped his tiffin box pouch open. His bitsy fingers worked on the tiffin box and set it open. Heaving a quick look at Raghav, Vidhyut extended his lunch box to him. "Do you want to eat with me?"
Raghav shrugged, "I'd love to but not right now. I don't think the food you have in your hands would be enough for both of us."
Vidhyut sought to take in a huge whiff of air, and dipped his head in the box in his hands, muttering, "Usually, she talks to me." He sounded forlorn.
He continued, taking a bit into his chappati roll, "Usually, when she is unable to talk to others, she talks to me. Tells me what she needs. So, I thought I can help her today and I came with her from school. But she didn't talk to me," he recited, knocking out a breath and drooping his head in glum.
Raghav sat helpless at the sorrow he could discover in the little boy's voice at his twin's state. His heart went out for his impeccable heart—though, a little one, it was capable of carrying out splendid things.
With an assuring smile, Raghav brought his hand around to pat the small of his back, "Don't worry you, she should be able to talk to you soon." he prompted, "In fact, to all of us."
"I hope so."
***
Raghav sighted Himani perched on the row of chairs, where he'd stalled the whole time, when he paced out of the doctor's room. She was swathed in a simple, grey, round neck t-shirt that was baggy on her body, and a faded blue jeans—she always wore something effortless under her chef jacket and pants.
As he neared her, Raghav could spell out her stance more clearly.
She was slouched back at the chair, arms looped into each other and tucked over her chest. Her feathery eyelashes were drooping, as if there was real heaviness sitting on them; her face was as good as clear and delicate but expressions on it, were contradictory—there was anguish, guilt, commotion, weariness jumbling on them—a deliberate frown making lines between her brows, as if there was a wrangle tossing around in her mind. Vidhyut was whistly sitting around, next to her.
Perceiving Raghav out of the door, Vidhyut poked Himani in her arms, "Himani, he is here," he hinted, his index finger pointing at Raghav standing at the door of the condo.
Himani pushed her head up, mounting up from her seat.
"Hi, everything alright?" he asked in a hushed tone, marching down to her. Raghav was consulting the doctor about Hrutvi and what had happened—and had discerned, the little girl had selective mutism—which meant, she might not be able to talk in anxious, overwhelming settings.
Himani flicked her head in a nod, with a tense, dull smile at him, "I hope everything gets alright soon." She rumbled softly, taking in a sharp inhale. "Thank you very much for having done this on behalf of me, Raghav. I couldn't have imagined.. If not for you..." she stuttered, in self-deprecation. There were blobs of tears mustering around together behind her eyes, ready to trail down anytime. Stifling the sob that rose at her throat, she continued, taking her hand to hold her throbbing head, "—despite leaving phone at home, I never take calls when I am at work. I am aware that my contact has been put up in Hrutvi's emergency contacts.. I should've been more careful. Damn, I am a horrible chithi." She ceased only when she could ramble no more without taking in a long breath—and even after the lengthy haul of air, Himani was panting for air. Her emotions were ramming turbulently, with remorse dominating flagrant at the moment. And Raghav could sense it.
"It happens, Himani." He glanced down at her with a smile, which was faint but heartening to her, "We all are little careless, sometimes. And it is okay—as long as we learn from it and strive not to repeat it again."
"Thank you very much for this," she whispered, holding on to his bonhomous eyes. Raghav simply smiled. "Hey, you don't have to.. I am relieved that I had a day off and I could do something about it."
"Me too."
"And you're not horrible—" Himani stood blank at his statement, he continued, "— Okay, a horrible house owner, a tad bit, may be. But not a horrible chithi. I don't think so." he said, scanning her with his narrowed eyes and a muffled chuckle.
Himani slapped his arm. "Hey, I am not a horrible house owner," she reprimanded, with an unrestrained snort that made a drop of tear that she'd been saving in her waterline, spill over.
"Since you were so keen in wanting to be horrible, I gave you the first and last thing I could think of." Raghav shrugged casually. "And Sam said we could take Hrutvi back to home in an hour."
Himani constricted her glare at it, and he enlightened.
"Samhitha, Hrutvi's doctor—Oh, we have a set of doctors from each speciality, in ties. To clarify doubts regarding articles and stuff—So, I know her father and her for quite some time." Himani simply nodded at his elaboration.
***
Time was well past four-thirty when all of them could finally get back home.
Himani had talked into Mythraeyi to shift out of the IIT quarters, to the portion in the first floor of her house. And it was not the first time for her to suggest the idea—she had been emphasizing on it, ever since Mythraeyi's divorce with Prasad. Hrutvi had had anxiety issues from five years old, but it aggravated to inability to talk when nervous, only after her mother's separation from her father. It was one of the first reasons why Mythraeyi was so shaken to have her child suffer an episode of it, today.
Himani had also acquainted Raghav that Mythraeyi and kids would be staying there, for tonight and would come back with all their stuff, well into the following weekend.
Hrutvi had recovered from her episode. She had talked—not quite too much, as she usually did—she had even responded to Raghav when he was called out from his room, for his evening coffee.
Vidhyut and Hrutvi had one or two sets of clothes at Himani's wardrobe, which they'd comfortably gotten into, getting rid of the school uniform. Hrutvi had her head hunched over a drawing notebook and Vidhyut, huddling on a Road Dahl book, with their mom engaging them in Himani's bedroom; whilst, Himani was frantically typing off a recipe on her laptop, to update her blog, sprawled in the living room.
She peeped up from the laptop's screen heeding the screech of the front gate—smile tiptoeing around the corner of her lips, unshackled.
Raghav released Dera's collar leads, letting him sprint to the sofa, as he closed the gate.
Dera lounged himself comfortably propping up his jaw on the hand rest, flaunting his pink snout. Raghav stared at the littlest spot that Dera had left empty on the sofa, and plopped down to the floor, leaning on to the sofa.
Himani piped up at him, casting a brief, playful glace. "Did he behave good?" she asked, not looking at him anymore—and distracting her focus back to her laptop. They always locked themselves up in their respective rooms, all through the weekdays. Despite having had oddles of time spent with him, over the weekend—albeit unplanned, it was the best she could ask for—and Himani had started yearning for more of it.
Raghav let out an exasperated sigh, "He did—considering, the fact he had done enough damage already," he groused, wistfully looking at Dera over his shoulders. Himani belted out a chuckle.
"Can I ask you something?" hurling her head up from her laptop, she asked.
"Shoot."
"Can you have Vidhyut in your room tonight? Mythraeyi is staying over, and I don't think my room can accompany more than three," Himani did not hesitate. She knew Raghav was not an inflexible person.
He agreed in a go. "Okay, done."
Himani beamed at him, shutting her laptop. "Thanks. And I guess we will order dinner from outside. I just don't want to cook today," she said, sulking. "I want to know if you're okay with having the leftovers for tomorrow morning."
Raghav's brows shot up at it, tentative at her statement. There had been a day when Himani reached home a little over nine in the evening and had whipped off a quick dinner. She had never been too tired to do something she loved. But today must've drained her out physically and emotionally.
She brought it out, "Since neither of us had lunch today, I have rice leftover. How about pazhaiyedu for breakfast tomorrow?"
Raghav's eyes dazzled at the pazhaiyedu talk. "I am in for it!" he cooed, raising a hand.
"Thank god, I thought you'd say no." Frankly, Himani did not know he'd agree in a go, too cheerfully.
"Who'd say that!" he said, rolling his eyes, "I mean, how pretentious it'd be to say no, when I actually like it. I'd never do that. I like pazhaiyedu."
Himani stuck her tongue out. "For someone who does stand up and gets quite a dose of public attention, I thought, you must be a little pretentious." She did not intend to sound like that—like she had an opinion on him, or that foremost opinion she'd registered about him was changing. She risked a fleeting look at him—he had his stubble overgrown, his eyes poising as charismatic as ever and lips curled moonily in a smile—darn, she could not believe she was starting to wax up his charm.
Raghav let out a laughter, his voice, gruff. "What do I get by pretending to you? By not doing it, I get my token of pazhaiyedu, atleast?"
Reveling in his spontaneity, she surmised. "How old are you?"
"Twenty-eight, you?"
"Twenty-six. Your parents, where are they?"
"They're not."
Himani whipped her head up at him, giving in to the urge of meeting his eyes, right at the moment.
"My father passed away when we were too young. I don't even remember a proper moment I have spent with him—" he said, looking at her in the eyes; facing the moment bravely. Himani's heart clenched painfully at it.
She had not known much about him. He worked with Khushi and Meena, did stand up comedies, cracked lame jokes, made her feel good, effortlessly, had a nice pair of brown eyes that shined like pools of honey, against the sun, wore tee-shirt and jeans to office—that's all she'd known, nothing less, nothing more.
Raghav breathed out a hefty exhale, "Lost my mother to cancer, couple of years ago."
"I lost my father to cancer, too," Himani muttered, intractable of how she felt right then—it was as horrendous as she had felt back when he was in his last days—the picture of him with tubes and wires, still vivid in her memory. And it flinched Himani. Whenever she heard someone losing to cancer, she felt an ache in her heart, too obscure and personal to be unfelt.
Raghav grated, "It feels like losing a personal battle, every time I see someone losing their life to it." They thought alike.
A quick sob stirred at her gut, and she knew bottling it down would make her worse. She swallowed an empty throat, twice and thrice to make herself free of the clog, she felt; blankly staring at Raghav. He appeared crestfallen at the direction their talk had taken.
Himani cleared her throat, "So what is your show's name?" she asked, her eyes flickering at him, mostly because of the held back tears. Putting up the best semblance of a smile, she chortled. "I am sure it must be something silly!"
Raghav flashed a wide grin at her. "My degree is in Kaapi," he said, his eyes twinkling and watching her throw her head back at the spurting of laughter.
"That's, well, relatable," she had said, shaking her shoulders.
***
"Thank you, Raghav."
"I have lost count of your thanks." Raghav said flatly, staring at her infuriated and wiggling an eye brow.
Himani chuckled. "I owe you, Raghav."
"When Vidhyut asked me if I was his mom's friend, I said him I am Himani's friend—and that explains. What are friends for?" There was sheer nonchalance in his tone, when he had asked that. Himani felt her heart fuzzy at it. House Owner to Friends. Hmm.
Dinner was done. Himani, Mythraeyi and Hrutvi had gone to bed in Himani's room.
Raghav was digging up his wardrobe, when Vidhyut appeared at his doorstep, his small hands hugging a pillow.
"Hey, come on in." Raghav invited him, as he got his hands on his mom's old, worn to soft, sungudi saree. He looked down at it, running his hand over the smooth, cotton material of it. Every time he felt his heart heavy of his mother's loss, every time he needed to feel the warmth of her hands around his shoulders, he slept over his mother's saree. It smelled so much of her soap, so much of her.
Vidhyut traipsed in, as Raghav quizzed him eyeing at bed. "Which side of the bed do you want?" he asked generously. Vidhyut contemplatively looked over the bed frame and chose the side closer to him. "This one."
"Fine."
He flung his pillow on his side of the bed, as Raghav spread his mom's saree on his side of the bed. Vidhyut, seated on the bed, studied the room carefully. There was a huge collection of books stacked in the cup-board opposite to him. A comfy smile brushed his lips, "Do you read many many books?"
Raghav nodded.
"Can I have a look at them in the morning?" his eyes shimmering, intrigued, he asked pushing his glasses up.
"I don't think I can you let you read one of these books, they are for grown-ups." Seriously, he had no book that an eight-year-old could engage in. Although, every one of it was not meant to be adultish, none of it could vouch for a comprehensible read to a kid. "But, I heard there's a lending library nearby. I can take you there."
"Really?" Vidhyut's face glimmered.
"Yep."
He removed his glasses and handed it over to Raghav, "Could you please put it up there?" he asked, pointing at the night stand, next to Raghav.
Hrutvi was bundled in Mythraeyi's arms, her mom's tender hands brushing her cheeks. "Go to sleep, baby, Amma will sing to you."
"Amma, sing kanda naal mudhalaai," Hrutvi mumbled, sleepily. And Mythraeyi obliged.
Himani gently turned to the other side of the bed, facing the wall, her lips shakily stretching on a sleepy, lazy smile at Mythraeyi's song for her kid. She did not expect herself to ponder over Raghav at it, but she did.
Remember, two chapters ago where she'd thought he was one of the cutest things?
He might have, probably, topped the list by now.
