Fitoor | ✓

02 | Do

A/N- Thank you so much for all your lovely comments, I really appreciate them. Also, meaning of 'Tara' is 'Star', so I guess this makes the last chapter pretty ironic. I should have mentioned this earlier. This chapter is dedicated to Myka (roastedpiglet) , one of the most talented people I've ever met. Do go and check her out. 

Much love, Aashix

02 | Do

It was hardest to breathe on the windiest of days, when the air was at its finest glory. Lekh sat in his study with his numerous files scattered on his table. He had to finish all of them soon, he was already lagging in work. It could affect the business. But fuck it, his brother was dead and he needed a day off and a bottle of scotch.

It had been three weeks since his brother died and the wailing of the women of this house and several others still echoed in the halls. The Rajputs' had lost their eldest son, the world was going to end. He felt guilty for feeling this way, but who is dead is gone and crying and wailing would do no good. But then of course, the Rajputs' were still lucky. They still had a son left, thank god he didn't get into defense. Who needed two martyrs in one house; like they didn't already have enough problems. Plus, now there was widow to take care of.

Lekh massaged his forehead, the throbbing pain becoming worse by the second. Haunting thoughts daunted him and work pressure aggravated him. He stretched his arms, then took an aspirin. The painkillers never worked, he didn't know why he even bothered.

Suddenly, the door creaked open and his mother entered and switched on the lights. Obviously, knocking on the door was a bad habit.

"I don't know why you always work under a lamp when there's proper lighting."

"I like it that way, and mother, it's late. Go sleep." His voice was authoritative. Funny, how the roles had reversed. When he was a kid he dare not raise his voice in front of his parents and it would be his mother who would command him to sleep early. Maybe time had gifted him this authority or perhaps cursed him with it. Maybe, age was why his parents allowed it.

"I have to talk to you." His mother said and kept her hands on his shoulder, her touch was tense and her voice worried. The kind of worried that warned him of a forthcoming drama. The kind of worried that worried him.

He sighed, he was not getting any sleep tonight. "What happened?"

"If you're busy we can talk later." The obligatory words to make him feel bad about his attitude had been spoken. He had to comply.

"Mom, it's fine."

She brushed his hair in emotional adoration and looked at him with watered eyes. "Lekh, I have never asked you for anything, but our family has a very big problem now."

His mother's voice juxtaposed sourness and love in such a way, he wondered what could go more wrong than a dead son. But then he knew the habit of over dramatization that his mother more than often carried so Lekh didn't think it would really be anything big.

"Tara..."

Not this again. It was the twenty-first century and his mother still stuck herself way in the past. Keeping a widow in the house so freely could not be allowed. She was supposed to wear all white, she wasn't allowed the luxury of colour. Tara was not playing her part as the perfect Indian widow.

He groaned internally, his headache was getting worse. Lekh was a lot of things, but he was not a saviour, this he had realised quite some time ago. He didn't want to hear about Tara, he didn't want to save her either. He realised, apart from not having the time, he really didn't want to get involved in this. Too taxing.

"Mom, if it's about how she is living, it's really not my business. Talk about it to the women." He didn't manage to tone down the aggravation and his mother frowned.

"Of course, I've raised you to talk to me like that." She taunted. "Tara is pregnant." She hissed angrily.

Lekh's jaws clenched. To say that he was shocked would be the understatement of the century.

"What are you saying?" He asked his mother, doubt drenching from his voice. Lekh would be nuts to believe everything his mother said to him. And maybe his mother was aware of that.

Indira glared at him. She knew his younger son wasn't like his eldest. Lekh was always sceptical while Kartavya was a true believer. It was easy to handle Kartavya, always tough to deal with Lekh. She took out the paper she had hidden in her saree and shoved it at her son.

A medical report.

Lekh's forehead creased. Could the day get any worse. He read through the document, it was legit. Tara was pregnant. But why was it a problem? Several haunting thoughts crossed his mind. He asked his mother the same.

"It is a problem. How will my first grandson live without a father? I don't want a Rajput to be mocked everywhere." Indira replied fiercely.

Lekh wanted to hit his head on a wall. He was going to be an uncle and his mother was busy thinking about what others would say. The fact that his brother died as a martyr was something his mother couldn't digest. And then, just for a minute, he was empathetic with Tara. He was the brother but she was the wife. She was the one carrying the baby. Not to mention his mother had already assumed it was going to be a son. He was pretty sure his mother thought it was God's way of returning to her the son she had lost.

"Mother, where are you going with this?"

His mother sat in one of the chairs in front of his desk. "Do you want the child of your brother do grow up fatherless?" She asked him, her voice shaking as if she was about to cry. His mother was a chameleon. Indira Singh Rajput had perfected the art of manipulation, too bad he was too aware of it to fall into the trap.

"Do you want Tara to re-marry?" he asked, it sounded like the only logical solution to whatever problem it is that his mother had.

His mother smiled hopefully. "Yes. I do."

"Then go look for a groom, what do you want me to do?"

Lekh could have sworn his mother smiled wickedly.

"I want you to marry Tara." And there it was.

I want you to marry Tara. Lekh repeated his mother's words in his head again. She had gone mental, old age had gotten the best of her.

He clenched his fist. "I don't have the time for this nonsense."

Lekh's head was going to burst now. This was it, the highlight of his life. His mother was asking him to marry his dead brother's wife. How was he supposed to get out of this situation now. He was a hundred and ten percent sure she had already been to Tara and been rejected. Now she had come to persuade him into it. His mother could be a writer, her imagination was wild, even Shakespeare wouldn't be able to match the tragedies she created for her characters.

"Lekh, I am not asking. I am ordering you to do it." Indira said sternly.

Little Lekh would have been intimidated by this tone of his mother, but not anymore. He was grown up, an adult, he was independent and this was his life. Gosh, he should have gotten out of this place when he had the chance.

"No." Lekh said plainly. The best way to deal with his mother was to not give her attention. When she didn't get any heed her drama would usually lull out. He had to play this out cleverly.

Only, she didn't give him a chance.

"If you don't agree, I will throw Tara out." His mother was not even subtle about her cruelty. "And you know I am perfectly capable of it. Not like I haven't done it before." She said smugly.

Lekh cursed. Only a few minutes ago he was suffocated by the wind, he didn't realise a storm was waiting up. 

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