Chapter- 22

Virendra stared at his son, who was busy arranging medicines on the table after returning from the doctor. He was yet to understand what had happened to him. He had been having a headache for the past week, but painkillers were doing a great job masking the pain, so how had he ended up here, and why did his son seem so pale and disturbed, bothered him.

Ekansh took a shaky breath, resetting his thoughts. He had already informed Eshita that their father was awake. As per the doctor, he was stable for now, but they needed to decide whether they wanted to take the risk of surgery or not, as the seizures from sudden withdrawal could worsen the situation. Even though medications had been prescribed, there was no guarantee how his body would respond further. Everything was in their hands.

And Ekansh was yet to decide, or even tell his father what had actually happened. His own turmoil held him back. He knew the moment he opened his mouth, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself. He was too scared, too petrified to grasp the possibility of losing him as well. So the best option was to leave.

He set aside the medicines. “I will bring the soup for you,” he murmured, turning to leave.

Virendra reached out, holding his wrist, stopping him. “Ansh? Kya hua hai? Why are you avoiding me?”

Ekansh exhaled sharply. He tried to pull away, but Virendra’s grip tightened. “I am not avoiding you, Dad. You need to eat something. Aapko dawai leni hai…”

“Look at me and say the same, son,” Virendra’s tone firmed. “Mujhse naraz hai yeh main jaanta hoon. Wajah bhi jaanta hoon. Lekin hum yahan kyun hain? And why do you look so unnerved... I am not getting that.”

Ekansh again tried to pull his hand away, but his father’s firm grip held him back. He knew he wouldn’t be able to leave just like that. Giving in, he lifted his gaze and looked at his father for the first time since he woke up. The anger, the concern, the fear he had been suppressing pressed down on him heavily.

“Aapko nahi pata, Dad?” His tone sharpened. “You don’t know what happened to you? Aapki tabiyat kab, kaise kharab ho gayi aapko pata nahi chala? Ek insaan ko apni health ke baare mein toh pata hota hai na? So how did you miss that... or you simply chose to ignore it all? Mujhe kis cheez ki saza de rahe hain aap… aapse pyaar karne ki ya aapka beta hone ki? Aur Esha… usse kis baat ki saza de rahe hain aap… woh bacchi kya aap jaante bhi hain us par kya beeti yeh sab sunke doctor ke muh se?”

Virendra stared at his son calmly. He had been waiting for this. There were still pieces he didn’t fully understand, but this outburst, he accepted it. He had always taught his children to express their thoughts, their feelings, even anger , freely, while his wife taught them the boundaries that came with expression. Together, they had balanced freedom with discipline, giving their children both voice and restraint.

He pulled Ekansh slightly towards him. His son, who had left five years ago as a boy, now stood before him as a man who had grown through pain and responsibility, but one thing remained unchanged, his love for his father, his unfiltered honesty, and the way his true vulnerable self still surfaced only in his presence.

The tremor in his son’s voice wasn’t lost on him. “Sit,” he ordered.

Ekansh glared at him. “Maine abhi kaha aapko dawai leni hai. You need to eat something it’s getting late. Can you, for once, listen to me, Dad? Ya har baar aapko apne hi mann ki karni hoti hai?”

Virendra held his gaze. “I said sit, Ekansh,” he repeated firmly.

Ekansh tried to ignore the authority in his tone, tried to shrug off the familiar command that still held power over him, but his father’s stern voice worked on autopilot in his system. Even before he could resist it, his body complied. He sat down beside the bed, tense and unwilling, unable to defy that tone.

“Now tell me what’s wrong,” Virendra’s tone softened, “Doctor ne kya kha?*

Ekansh looked at him blankly, switching to his emotionless self. “You stopped drinking suddenly, and it showed side effects on your system. You are suffering from liver disease and have a few months left in your hands. The chances of surgery are one percent, with zero guarantee that it will be successful,” he blurted everything out in one go before averting his gaze.

It hurt. It ripped through his soul to say it out loud. It would have been easier if the doctor had said it again instead of him. His eyes stung with tears… he forced himself to hold them back, clenching his jaw, refusing to break in front of him.

Virendra blinked, startled, trying to wrap his head around the information his son had just provided. It felt like history repeating itself, once his wife was there in the same situation, and now him. He looked back at his son, years back, he had been there for his family to hold them together when Anvita was slipping away from them. Today too, he was there to hold his children. He might have failed in many aspects, but he refused to lack strength now and repeat the same mistakes again.

He had stopped alcohol to mend the bonds he himself had shattered, but now it seemed his own decision had backfired. Life and death were not in a person’s hands, but how they deal with it, that was.

When his wife passed away, he had been so consumed by his grief that he didn’t hold his son close, despite knowing the burdens he was carrying within his heart, all alone. This time, he refused to do the same mistake again.

Gathering his composure, he squeezed Ekansh’s hand. “Look at me, Ansh.” His tone was firm yet gentle.

Ekansh blinked away the tears, but a lone tear still trickled down his cheek. His vision blurred. He tried to gulp them down, the harder he tried, the worse it became.

“Main theek hoon, Ansh.” Virendra reached out, wiping away his tears gently. “Darr tab lagna chaiye jab humare pas samtne ke liye kuch na ho. Doctor told you about the surgery. We can take that chance or leave it... but thinking that we have lost everything even before trying is not something I taught my son.”

With one hand he cupped his face firmly, “Jab tak main apni galtiyan sudhaar nahi leta… teri maa se phir se nazrein milane ke kaabil nahi ban jaata, usse pehle main apne bachon se durr kaise jaa sakta hoon, beta? Ek pita ka haath aur saath apne bachon ke sar se kabhi nahi hatta. I am fine and I want you to believe that and stand strong with me. Jb tujhe meri sabse zyada zaroorat thi tab main tere saath nahi tha… par apne baap ko uski galti theek karne ka ek mauka toh tu de hi sakta hai na?” he pleaded at the end.

The way his son was trying to hold back his tears broke him. No son should have to hide his pain from his own father, but again, it was him who had brought that upon himself.

Ekansh couldn’t hold back anymore. He tried to suppress the emotions clawing at him but lost the battle with himself. He lunged forward, wrapping his arms around his father. Every single weight of past and present, the guilt, anger, helplessness, even the grief he had never allowed himself to feel fully, came out in broken sobs, shaking his entire being.

Virendra held his son close to his heart, blinking back his own tears. Each sob echoed painfully, slicing through him, reopening old wounds that never truly healed. He let himself feel that pain, accepting it fully this time. At least his son was ready to break in his arms, fight with him, and still come back to him.

Whereas he knew his daughter wouldn’t even turn to him for that. She would choose Ekansh over him, rather than a man who had ignored her existence for five years. And he was fine with that.  He just hoped, against hope, that she would at least give him a chance. His son might forgive him someday… as breaking down in the arms of the same man who hurt you the most isn’t forgiveness, it’s the right his son had, but his daughter refused to even allow herself that vulnerability, she refused to even let him try.

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The night settled quietly over the mansion, gentle breeze whispering through the trees. Eshita sat on the cold grass in the garden, her back leaning against the bench behind her, knees pulled close to her chest. A diary lay scattered beside her, open, scribbled with her own messy thoughts she had poured out in ink and silence.

Her father was up. Her bhaiya had informed her first, she was relieved, so was he; it reflected clearly in his voice over the call. He had asked if she wanted to come, but she had denied it herself. She didn’t want to meet her father. She didn’t want to see him. She didn’t want to talk to him or even look at him. She hated him that much.

Eshita stared at the canvas above, a soft, painful smile gracing her lips. She was grateful that her bhaiya was there for their father, because if a situation like this had come in his absence, Eshita knew she would have done nothing despite knowing what to do.

Her resentment for her father had long reached its peak. It had only started to fade a little when her bhaiya came back into her life, when she finally realized what had truly happened… what Abha had done to them.

Eshita cursed the woman with all her heart. But then again, her father wasn’t faultless either. He should have talked it out with her bhaiya. He should have cleared things instead of assuming his pain was greater than his son’s.

Eshita had been angry at Ekansh for losing contact with her, but never for following what their father had asked. Back then, they had loved their parents like their entire universe… the almighty they believed in, bowed down to. So if her father had asked her to do the same, she would have done exactly that, walked away, fulfilling the vows. But the way he had tried to brush aside their feelings, their pain, that was something she could never accept.

When a child watches a superhero saving people, doing good, protecting the world, they begin to idolize them, to believe they can do no wrong. But when that same person makes even the smallest mistake, people start to question everything, to see flaws they never noticed before.

Eshita felt exactly that. Her father had been her superhero, the man who could never do wrong in her eyes. But he did. So now she chose to stay away from him, to keep her distance, without even giving him a chance. It made her feel cruel, almost against her own kind heart, but she wasn’t ready to forgive him yet.

A mug of steaming coffee flashed before her eyes, startling her. Eshita glanced at it and then back at Ekta, who had brought it. Hesitantly, she took the mug.

“C-can I sit?” Ekta asked, uncertain.

Eshita nodded without a word.

Ekta settled down beside her, keeping a little distance without making it obvious. She knew what had happened in the house when Ekansh was carrying the unconscious Virendra out, placing him in the car with the help of the guards she saw it. She didn’t know the exact reason behind the man’s sudden collapse, but her heart went out for her bhaiya.

Within a few weeks, she had noticed his bond with Virendra. They shared tension and layers of unspoken hurt, yet the unconditional love between a father and son was visible to her. If even she, an outsider, could see it so clearly, then what they shared must run far deeper than what met the eye.

She glanced at Eshita, finding the girl sitting alone in the garden while Ekansh was at the hospital alone. Ekta didn’t know what to make of it. If she hadn’t learned to observe things around her with her usual guarded awareness, she might have once again labeled Eshita as heartless, however the girl was anything but that.

So the best option was to give her company. She had made instant coffee and brought it for both of them. She understood what it meant to deal with emotions alone, even when you had someone by your side. She wasn’t looking for answers or questions… just offering silent presence to someone who needed it the most.

Her gaze landed on the open diary before her and, without realizing it, she read through it, feeling the longing written between the lines, the truth, the restless hope poured out in words.

She glanced at Eshita. The girl was as much a mystery to her as she was to Eshita. But maybe one thing they shared in common was their love for their father.

She knew comparing her father with Virendra Sehgal was the biggest sin one could commit. Virendra’s love was beyond measure for his children, whereas hers… her father… loved her. Even her thoughts lacked conviction. She shook them away and focused on the present.

“Aap… aap theek ho?” She asked hesitantly.

Eshita sipped the coffee, a frown creasing her forehead. She looked at Ekta. “Haan. Mujhe kya hua hai?”

Ekta stared at her silently, a silence that said more than words ever could.

Eshita looked away, breaking eye contact first. She hadn’t thought the girl could see through her so easily. And the fact that she hadn’t switched to her ‘I am fine’ façade in front of Ekta was new to her. She never showed her real emotions to anyone except her family, and Ekta, was not family… yet.

Ekta sighed. She looked up at the sky, leaning back on the bench just like Eshita.
There was one difference between the sky of a city and that of a village, they were the same, yet told stories of their own contrasts. In the city, dust and population dulled the visibility of stars, while in the village, the open sky filled with trillions of stars without leaving a single corner empty felt like jewels scattered up in the vast darkness.

“Why are you smiling?” Eshita asked, noticing the soft curve on her lips. It was rare to see the girl smile.

Ekta shook her head. “Mere gaon mein bahut saare taare dikhte hain. Maa kehti thi aasman main haar chmakta taara kisi na kisi ki dua hota hai.”

Eshita looked at her, startled. That was the first time Ekta was talking about something so personal. She wanted to ask so many questions but held herself back. The girl looked at peace, what if she came down with panick attack again? Her bhaiya wasn’t there to calm her.

She leaned back on the bench, gazing at the canvas. “Meri bhi Maa yahi kheti thi,” she murmured quietly. “Toote hue taare se koi bhi wish maango, woh poori ho jaati hai.”

She scoffed bitterly. “Jo ek taara poora nahi kar sakta, woh aadha toota taara kaise karega?”

“Maa kabhi galat nahi hoti,” Ekta’s voice thick with unspoken emotions. “Your mother was right. A full star is visible to the whole world, but that falling star… it’s special. It comes into the view of someone only when it matters the most.”

“Tumne kabhi toote taare se kuch maanga?” Eshita asked a little curious.

Ekta’s eyes shimmered with tears. “Jo khud taare ban gaye ho, unhe phir se zameen par lana namumkin nahi.” She looked at Eshita, who was already staring at her. “Aapne?”

Eshita smiled sadly, shrugging her shoulders. “A happy family! Guess what… I will never be so lucky to have one.”

Ekta shook her head. “You are lucky to have what you still have. Main sab kuch toh nahi jaanti aur na hi aapki life mein bolne ka haq rakhti hoon. Lekin inn kuch hafton mein jo dekha hai, usse itna khe sakti hoon… ki aapke bhaiya aur dad aapse bahut pyaar karte hain.”

Eshita chuckled bitterly. “Dad pyaar karte hain mujhse? What a joke, Ekta. Phir toh tum kuch nahi jaanti. A father who chooses to love his daughter at his own convenience… a father who pushed his daughter away, drowning in alcohol, imposing his choices on her instead of being there for her… that kind of father can never love you.”

“But it’s better than a father who always chose his son since birth, ignoring the daughter completely.” Ekta countered softly, “Better than a father who refused to even hug his daughter once when she woke up scared at night. Better than a father who loved only one child, the one who could carry on his legacy, his blood.”

She held Eshita’s gaze. “Ek pita sirf achanak badal jaye, usse zyada dukh iss baat ka hota hai ki woh kabhi hume aapni zindagi main chaate hi na ho. And your father… whatever he did is wrong. He shouldn’t have ignored his daughter, her pain, her suffering. But at least he loves you enough to beg for your forgiveness… unlike the one who thinks he is right in whatever he did, ignoring the pain he inflicted on his si...” She trailed off abruptly, realizing how much she had revealed.

She looked at Eshita, who was staring at her intently, listening to each word without blinking, absorbing every emotion behind them.

Ekta scrambled to her feet instantly. She was letting her emotions spill beyond control. She couldn’t compare her issues with Eshita’s. Her pain was different, and so was Eshita’s. She didn’t have the right to judge or define someone else’s pain. She hadn’t lived what Eshita had, and Eshita hadn’t lived what she had. Two people can never measure each other’s pain on the same scale… and here she was, defending Virendra…

“I am sorry agar maine kuch zyada khe diya ho toh,” She mumbled, rushing away without waiting for a reply.

The bond Eshita and Virendra shared… she envied it. The man was at least trying to earn his child’s forgiveness, at least trying to rebuild the bond with the daughter he once adored the most. While her father… he had simply turned away from her, despite knowing the hell she was facing.

Truth is always harsh and unforgiving, and one thing was certain, since the day she had stepped into the Sehgal mansion, she had begun to witness a version of truth that made her own versions seem meaningless, cutting through her nerves with each passing day.

Eshita stared at Ekta’s retreating figure. There was something about the girl that stirred chords in her heart in unfamiliar ways. She shook away her thoughts, not wanting to give in to that unsettling pull she couldn’t explain.

Ekta was wrong. A father can never fail... should never fail. They are meant to be the shield, the constant, the one person a child can look up to without doubt or fear. Even when the world falls apart, a father is supposed to stand strong… unshaken, unwavering. If that pillar itself cracks, then what is a child supposed to hold on to?

How can her father… Her thoughts trailed away as her gaze landed on the lines she had written…

Kaale aasman mein taare bahut hain,

Par dhoondhte sabhi chaand ko hain…

Koi toh wajah hogi.

Phoolon se bhari hai yeh saari duniya,

Par log chunte gulaab ko hi hain…

Koi toh wajah hogi.

Tanha raaston par

Kaante toh hain… par manzil bhi,

Koi toh wajah hogi.

Dil tootne par awaaz nahi aati,

Par phir bhi dil dard se cheekh uthta hai,

Koi toh wajah hogi.

Duniya mein har cheez ki, har ek pal ki apni khoobsurti hai,

Jahan dard bhi chupkar muskurata hai,

Wahin aansu bhi khushi mein dhal jaate hain.

Eshita read through the lines she herself had poured down. There was a bitter truth in each one of them, filled with raw, aching honesty, yet there was a quiet hope hidden within them.

What Ekta said rang in her ears, colliding with what she had written. She wasn’t looking for perfect bonds, she was looking for something she had lost. But now, from where she stood, she was pushing her father away, refusing to let herself feel the words of the doctor from earlier, letting her resentment act on her emotions…

Slowly, she picked up the pen. The poem was still incomplete… She scribbled the remaining lines down. She couldn’t ignore her pain, her mother hadn’t taught her that, but she would at least let her father know that he didn’t need to be an ideal father… just the one she had been searching for these past five years. She hoped against hope that he would understand her this time.

Picking up her car keys from the grass, she walked away for her destination. This time, she refused to let her father off the hook so easily…

The breeze blew gently, brushing past the pages, turning them reflecting the last line Eshita had written, an acceptance that came after realizing that mistakes are inevitable, that a father is also a human. You can fight them, argue, and even walk away for a while, but hating them was not the answer…

Har rishte mein kuch adhoorapan hai,

Kuch kami, kuch narazgiyan, toh kuch galtiyan,

Phir bhi log use nibhate hain…

Koi toh wajah hogi.

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Your take on Ekansh and Virendra conversation?

Your take on Eshita and EKta conversation?

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Next Update: Saturday!

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