With expert hands, she adjusted the pillow, smoothed the bed sheets, and folded the blanket before making her way towards the washroom. The school gate would close promptly at 8:30 sharp, and Radha, always the punctual one, knew that being late was simply not an option.
A few days ago, when she cried in her brother's warmth, it felt like as if the burdens of the world were lifted off her shoulders. Mahir' protective arms felt like a shield against the chaos, and for the first time in so long, she had felt good. It felt like someone reached inside and swept away the suffocating pain leaving room for something new to grow.
In that moment, she had allowed herself to breathe, to feel again and to shed the hardened shell she had lived in for so long. Yet, the lingering feeling off apprehension was still there, something she couldn't shake off.
As soon as she splashed cold water on her face, Radha couldn't ignore the feeling of something unsettling in her chest. An emptiness or perhaps, nothing in particular?
She should be missing her mother. But she wasn't. Maybe because the way her Bade Maa wake up Abhishek for his school, early in the morning, fussing around to get him ready. Those moments that were small yet precious for any kid were something Radha never experienced.
Payal Dhanrajgir believed in doing everything on its own. For her, self-reliance was the best relationship. There was no motherly softness, no moments of affection or reassurance like one Radha saw between Abhishek and Sakshi.
Radha never received a comforting embrace after a tough day at school, or warm words that could soothe her fear before exams, or her upset self. Payal Malthora's love came in the form of discipline, tough lessons, and high expectations. Even if Radha got late for the school and received a red slip, Payal would scold her to do better on her own, and let Raghav deal with the matter.
In the end, Radha would be grounded for nothing in particular.
Payal was set in her own ways. Though the woman had an ounce of love to give, she showered it on her nephew. But with her daughter, she never knew how to express it or how necessary it was. Her love was cold, partial and distant. A version of theory that didn't wrap Radha in warmth but rather demanded that she should be self-sufficient, independent and strong on her own regardless of age.
And that attitude had been the foundation of Radha's upbringing, shaping the girl she was today.
Radha looked at herself in the mirror. The two braids she made were perfect, her uniform neat and crisp without a single crease, and her backpack was also ready.
She checked her wristwatch and smiled in satisfaction. It was just 7:45. She still had plenty of time to leave for school, as the distance from Dhanrajgir Mansion to school wasn't that long. Picking up her bag, she made her way out of the room.
Although it was Friday and she wanted to skip school since the next day was the second Saturday, meaning a holiday followed by Sunday, but she knew nor would Ronit appreciate her thoughts, neither will Sakshi, so the best option was to ride along with it.
As Radha reached downstairs, went towards the dining table. She frowned, not finding Abhi there. Normally, he would be sitting at the table, complaining to his brothers about how unfair the world was to set such odd times for school. So today, the silence felt odd.
The usual rummaging in the kitchen was also quiet. Her eyes wandered back to her watch. He should be there by now. Did the boy leave with Ronit without waiting for her, but then again, Abhishek Dhanrajgir was the laziest creature on the planet; he loved arriving at the school in the nick of time, when the gates were about to close on his face, so him going earlier would be an eighth wonder.
"Good Morning, Radha." A warm voice greeted her from behind.
Radha turned back with a soft smile, only to find Mahir all dressed up in his tracksuit suit the sweat on his forehead and clothes gave away that he had just hit the gym, but today he was also late.
"Why are you ready?" Mahir asked with a frown.
Radha looked down at herself and back at her brother. "Obviously, for school, Bhaiya."
Mahir nodded, "I know that, genius. I was asking why you are going to school. Didn't Abhi inform you?"
"Inform what?"
Mahir groaned. His brother was plain dumb.
He smiled softly, taking off Radha's bag from her shoulder, "That your dear lazy sloth of a brother asked Dad last night if he could go to school from Monday instead, and for a change, Dad agreed."
Radha nodded, but she still didn't understand what it meant for her.
"Go and change, Radha. Start going with Abhi from Monday." Mahir explained calmly, noticing her confused expression.
Radha nodded. Her body relaxed on its own; she was happy she didn't have to go to school alone, and...
"There is no need for that." Sakshi's sharp voice startled the duo as she entered the dining room.
Sakshi looked at Mahir. "There's no need for her to skip school. She is already ready, so ask the driver to drop her off, or you can---"
"There is no need for that, Maa." Mahir interrupted firmly. "If Abhi is taking a break, Radha can do the same."
Ignoring his mother's glare, Mahir turned towards Radha. His eyes softened as he saw her fidgeting with her bag strap.
"Radha, go and change."
Radha looked at Mahir and then back at her Bade Maa. If she agreed, the mother and son would fight because of her, something she didn't want. Taking a deep breath, she looked at Mahir.
"It's fine, Bhaiya. I—I'll go to school. Besides, I—I have a lot of pending notes to catch up on..."
"I need your help with something, Radha." Mahir cut her off gently. "Won't you stay to help me, baache?"
"What do you need help with?" Radha asked, puzzled.
"Go change first, then come back. I'll tell you."
Radha nodded instinctively. If her brother needed her help, then there was no way she would go to school. Ignoring the fuming Sakshi, she walked past her, rushing towards her room.
"You are making a mistake, Mahir," Sakshi spat, irritated.
Mahir nodded. "Fine, Maa. Anything that helps you relax. But as far as I know, my mistakes won't be bigger than what you, Dad, or even Chachu (Uncle), Chachi (Aunt) committed."
"You think doing all this will change the truth?" Sakshi hissed. "That girl is nothing but a burd---"
"Don't. Just don't, Maa!" Mahir interjected angrily. "For you all, she can be anything. But for me and my brothers, she is our sister."
"Your cousin, to be precise."
"I don't care," Mahir stated, facing his mother squarely.
"A sister is a sister. For me, Radha is the most important member of my life. Just like my brothers, she is my companion. I stayed silent for a long time, but now I'll make sure to heal the girl you all broke. I will make her the Radhika Dhanrajgir she was meant to be, not the one you all want her to be. And everything I do won't be out of pity or sympathy, but because of the bond we share. Because of the love we share, and that's all you need to know."
Sakshi fumed but suppressed her frustration walking away. The girl was nothing but a burden, a piece of trash that Payal had given birth to, a curse upon the family.
From the day the girl was born into the family, they had faced losses, business failures, Ronit losing his parents, losing property, and much more. Sakshi blamed it all on Radha without any mercy, and she was determined to do the needful.
But with Mahir standing by Radha's side, would she still be able to do what she intended? That was the question.
✨✨✨
After a while, Radha made her way back to the dining area changing into her loose black sweatshirt and PJs. Wondering what kind of help her brother needed from her, it suddenly clicked.
Maybe he wrote a tune, and he wanted her to hear it first. After all, her brother was a well-renowned rockstar, with countless self-composed songs written, sung, and performed entirely by him. A famous artist with millions of devoted listeners and a voice so soulful it could melt even the coldest hearts. He was the kind who could fill arenas, dictate concert on his own terms and conditions, and yet… he often chose to assist their father in business instead.
Radha never truly understood why. As far as she knew, countless labels had approached her Bhaiya to sign exclusive deals, but he had never bowed to any of them. Everything he created, every note, every lyric, every performance, was born of his own hard work. No ghostwriters, no PR managers, no fancy production houses backing him.
And she never questioned it. It was his life, his choices. All she cared about was that his voice, the same voice that echoed through their home late at night, had become her anchor. In a world that often felt too loud, too cruel, too chaotic, his songs were the only thing that kept her from falling apart, or she was sure she might have gone insane long ago.
So Radha was excited to hear his song. She still remembered the few times she heard it, and the memory itself brought a bittersweet smile crept on her lips.
As Twenty-four-year-old Mahir was passing through the corridor on his way to his room after returning from the office, his eyes landed on Ten-year-old Radha standing outside her father's study, looking lost.
He immediately walked towards her and placed his hand on her shoulder, causing her to gasp and flinch.
"It's me, Radha. Calm down," Mahir said gently as she step backed.
Radha narrowed her eyes at him. "You scared me, Bhaiya. Can't you make a sound before sneaking up on me like this?" she huffed.
Mahir nodded. "Sorry, Princess. Next time, I will send two bodyguards ahead of me first. They will inform you of my arrival. And don't look at me like that; I'm your elder brother. Is this how you glare at your brother?" he scolded playfully.
Radha crossed her arms over her chest and looked away with a pout adorning her lips. Skulking mode activated!
Mahir suppressed his smile and crouched down in front of her, matching her eye level. "Okay, I am sorry. I was just joking, but you got angry." He held his ears and gave her a charming smile, "Maaf kar de aapne Bhaiya ko (Forgive your brother, please?)"
Radha lowered his hands but shook her head stubbornly.
"Accha, tu jo bolegi, I will give you. (Fine. Whatever you ask for, I'll give it to you.) Just stop sulking, Radha," Mahir said, slightly annoyed. He couldn't stand her skulking mode. While most kids threw fits or tantrums, Radha Dhanrajgir was a different case; she simply activated her silent mode, frustrating all her brothers endlessly.
Radha's frown disappeared, "Really?"
Mahir nodded.
"Ice cream?"
Mahir chuckled, "Fine, but only one. You just recovered last week from a fever. If Chachu or Chachi find out, they'll scold you."
Radha agreed immediately.
"Waise tu yahan kya kar rahi hai? (By the way, what are you doing here?)" Mahir asked, gazing inside the study, only to find Raghav busy on his phone.
Radha's face fell, and she looked down.
Mahir gently lifted her chin. The way her smile had vanished bothered him. "What happened, Radha?"
Radha shook her head, still gazing down at the floor.
"Aapne Bhaiya ko bhi nahi batayegi? (You won't even tell your brother?)" Mahir asked softly. "What...." He trailed off as his eyes fell on the paper Radha was clutching in her hand.
He gently tried to take it from her hand, but Radha tightened her grip.
Mahir smiled softly. "What's so important about this? Come on, show me."
Radha shook her head again.
"Is my sister keeping secrets from me now?" Mahir teased.
Radha finally loosened her grip and let him take the paper.
As Mahir scanned through it, his eyes widened in shock. "You got a B+, Radha? Then why the long face?"
Radha nodded. "It's still bad. I couldn't score an A+," she mumbled, trying to take the paper back.
Mahir looked at her, startled. "And who told you that?"
He was shocked by her words. It was the certificate of a writing competition at school where Radha secured second place. And she wasn't happy?
The words penned down in the essay that was attached to the certificate weren't something he could ignore; they were deep, filled with hidden meanings. Yet here was his sister saying it wasn't good enough. He was baffled.
Radha shrugged, "I'll do better next time."
Mahir cradled her face in his palm, making her look at him. "Who told you this wasn't good?" he asked again, though his heart knew the answer already.
"Papa," Radha whispered. "I just showed him, and he said it wasn't that great. That I should've done better."
Mahir shook his head. "It's the best. It's incredible, Radha. Tujhse better toh shayad koi likh sakta hai iss age mein. (I doubt anyone could write better than you at your age.)"
"No, Bhaiya. It isn't that good," Radha said, frustrated. "I—I just wasted my time participating instead of focusing on my studies."
Mahir sighed inwardly. He knew it was not her words; she was repeating what her father had told her.
"Okay, forget that for now. I want to show you something," Mahir said, standing up and holding her wrist. "Come with me."
Radha pulled back. "Papa will get angry. He punished me. I have to stand here until he says I can move."
Mahir frowned. "What did you do?"
"I was excited to show him my result, so I barged into his room while he was having a meeting on his laptop. So..." Radha trailed off.
Mahir clenched his fist behind his back. "So?"
Radha looked down. "I shouldn't have screamed like that. Papa said I should stand here and reflect on my behavior."
Mahir curbed down his annoyance he felt for Raghav and held her hand. "No one will say anything, Radha. I'll talk to Chachu. But right now, I need your help. Please come with me."
He knew his sister wouldn't disobey her father's words; he had seen it too many times. But if he or any of her brothers asked her for help, she would never refuse.
She had the kindest soul! The saddest part was that her parents failed to recognize it.
Radha glanced one last time inside the study, seeing her father engrossed in his work. She shrugged and left with Mahir.
Mahir led her to his room and closed the door behind him. Radha walked over to his bed and made herself comfortable while Mahir picked up his guitar.
She gave him a questioning look.
"I was working on the tune for my new song. Listen and tell me how it sounds," Mahir said, sitting beside her.
Radha nodded and sat up straight. It wasn't her first time listening to his songs like this; raw, live, and unfiltered.
Her brother always made sure she listened to every tune he worked on before releasing it. She was the first one to hear his music, before the world, before their brothers. Although she still didn't know why, moments like these were special to her.
She loved music. She even learned a few chords from her brother, but the issue was that her mother caught her playing the guitar once and warned her to never touch it again, as it was a waste of time according to her.
And, like a good daughter, she was, she agreed. No questions asked. No back talk. No arguments!
Whenever her hands itched to play, she would pick at her nails, suppressing the urge, just like now. Luckily, the room was soundproof, as Mahir liked his space, so no one could hear what the siblings were doing inside.
As Mahir played the first chord, a smile graced Radha's lips, and her eyes lit up with joy.
Mahir smiled. Her reaction told him everything: she loved it. He wanted to encourage her to pursue what she loved. He knew Radha's love for music, but at the end of the day, the boundaries set by Payal for her daughter were something Radha didn't wish to overstep.
It was her love and respect for her parents that prevented Radha from defying them in any way, and the couple was unaware of the hurt they were causing their child, set in their own stubborn selves.
Not having a dream was okay. After all, life was long enough to figure things out, to think, to explore, and to pursue whatever felt right. As long as one had hope, courage, and confidence, there was always a path forward.
But for Radha, hope itself had been snatched away. Dreaming felt like a luxury for her, too distant, too big for her small hands to grasp and her heart to carry.
At her age, children dreamed of becoming doctors, lawyers, and superheroes. Fictional or real, it didn't matter. In their imaginary world, everything was possible.
However, for Radha, there was no imaginary world. Her day was dictated by her father, and her evening by her mother. There was no space for her to think outside the box.
You can show someone the way, but they have to walk it themselves. Just like that, Mahir was trying to guide his sister, hoping against hope that she would willingly choose the path on her own. And when she will, he would be by her side, fighting whoever came in the way.
Radha clapped happily as Mahir played the last chord, setting aside the guitar. "Wow, Bhaiya! It was awesome!" She threw herself at him.
Mahir chuckled and hugged her. "I know, Radha, but I think something is missing. I really didn't like it."
Radha pulled back, startled. "What? You have lost it, Bhaiya."
Mahir glared at her.
"Arre, aise mat dekho mujhe. (Don't look at me like that.)" Radha chided, "What are you even saying? It's the best. Have I ever lied to you about your music? I always give you my honest review."
Mahir sighed. "I know, Radha. But still, I feel I really missed some chords, or maybe the whole thing isn't quite right."
Radha shook her head, lying down and resting her head on his lap. "Idea! Don't listen to me or anyone. Just listen to yourself, okay? Close your eyes and remember how you felt when you first played this tune. Were you happy? Disappointed? Frustrated?
Mahir closed his eyes, leaning back against the bedpost, letting himself relax. The first time he had played the tune, it was rough, still missing the softness and an edge that could soothe him. Then he tried again a few more times, and a smile bloomed on his face.
"I was happy," he blurted out.
Radha sat up with a wide grin. "See! I told you, it's the best."
"But no one will like it," Mahir probed, staring at her.
Radha reached out, holding his hand. "Arey, aap dusron ke reviews par kyun jaa rahe ho? (Why are you so concerned about other people's reviews?) I read in a novel a few days back: If you like it, then do what you feel is right. After all, it's your time and hard work, not theirs, Bhaiya. Not everyone knows everything, right? Everyone has their own views on different things."
"So, I shouldn't think about others' reviews and just follow what my heart says?" Mahir asked, meeting her gaze.
Radha nodded again, laying back and resting her head on his lap. "I don't think in everything, because that would be selfish, but in a few things, especially the ones we truly love."
"Then why don't you apply this logic to yourself, Radha?" Mahir asked casually, caressing her hair.
"What do you mean?"
Mahir sighed. "Close your eyes."
Radha looked at him, confused, but complied.
"Now tell me about the two hours you sat in the class and wrote that essay. What was your first reaction when you finished it? How did it feel?" Mahir asked, still gently massaging her scalp.
Radha smiled, "Perfect!" she said and opened her eyes.
"Look at me, Radha," Mahir said gently, noticing how her smile dimmed. Radha looked at him.
"The essay is yours. The competition was yours. The hard work was yours. So why worry about what others think? You just said it yourself, no one knows everything. So we should follow our hearts instead of being consumed by how others will react. Mere time sabh logic ki baatein, par jab baat khud ki ho, toh bas irrationally sabh kuch ulta sochna hota hai tujhe. (When it comes to me or to others, you think logically, but when it comes to yourself, you stretch things unnecessarily.) Is that even fair?"
Radha looked at him sadly, "But Papa said..."
"Chachu is a hardcore businessman, not a writer," Mahir interjected. "Do you think he would understand how you wrote? Will his thoughts match yours? Only an artist can truly recognize another artist's work. And trust me, Radha, what you wrote was incredible. You came in second; maybe someone did better, but does that mean you should undermine your own hard work? Comparing our work to others never brings happiness, but satisfaction comes from knowing we did our best and gave it our all. Results don't matter after that."
Mahir's eyes locked onto hers. "And as far as I know, Dad doesn't even understand the basics of my music. The same goes for Chachu, who failed to see the thoughts and emotions behind the words written."
Radha nodded understandingly and buried her face in his midriff.
"I had no idea my brother was this smart," Radha mumbled teasingly.
"And I had no idea my sister was this dumb," Mahir drawled in the same tone.
"Did you just call your sister dumb?" Radha pulled back with a glare.
"Stating facts, Beta(Dear.)"
"Then same to you, back to you, no return," Radha retorted.
"Badmash! (You brat) Did you just call me dumb?" Mahir glared back.
Radha shook her head innocently. "Dumb people don't call themselves dumb, Bhaiya, especially when they know the FACTS."
Mahir got on his knees on the bed, wriggling his fingers. "Facts, huh? Let me show you some facts..." Saying, he lunged at her, tickling her mercilessly.
Radha screamed out loud; her whole body was ticklish, and even a single touch made her jump out of her skin. "Ahh, okay....okay ...i am sorry...sorry, Bhaiya, please," Radha pleaded in between.
Mahir immediately pulled back upon seeing her breathing heavily, only to be caught off guard as Radha pushed him back and attacked him with the same tickles.
The room echoed with loud, happy laughter. The longing in her eyes was gone, replaced by a genuine smile that graced her lips and reached her eyes.
Radha snapped out of her trance as fingers snapped before her. She looked up to find Mahir watching her, concerned.
Without a word, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, melting into his warmth. The chaos in her mind slowly subsided.
"What happened, Radha? Did someone say something?" Mahir asked, worried, wrapping his arm around her shoulders.
The lost look in her eyes didn't sit well with him. He had just come to check on her and found her standing near the staircase, looking blank.
Radha pulled back and shook her head. She felt better. Her Bhaiya's arms were the safest haven, where she could forget everything and anything.
"I'm fine, Bhaiya. You tell me what help you need?"
Mahir searched her eyes for lies but found none. Pulling her into a side hug, he guided her towards the kitchen.
When a nail is driven into a wall, the hammer strikes it repeatedly; each blow echoes through the air, the impact and force sinking it deeper with unerring aim.
And such was the case with Radha.
Like a nail buried in a wall, words had been driven into her mind by her parents, shaping her beliefs about love, expectations, and self-worth. The idea of unconditional love was foreign to her.
Even though her brothers showered her with affection, she kept her distance, afraid to get her hopes up. She had been told that life was meant to be lived like a performance on stage, achieving the best, winning every trophy, and being completely self-reliant.
And so, she had built her walls just like that. Mahir was determined to melt those metal walls, making her want to feel real emotions and be free, and he would.
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