Circle of Trust

Chapter 14

Rathod Mansion was built nine decades ago on the sprawling grounds atop a hill overlooking the sea in the outskirts of Pune. It was built by Varun’s industrialist grandfather with an intention to impress the city’s richest into submission.

Varun’s father Vikramaditya Rathod was born to take over from his grandfather unlike him, who couldn’t get away from the Rathod clan fast enough. His father was a tyrant and their relationship had always been strained.

Growing up as an only child, his only hobby had been to watch his mother go through the strains of playing the perfect Mrs. Rathod. At the end of the day, in the darkness of the night, when the household settled into disconcerting quietness, he would listen to his mother’s carefully worn veneer crack and break the eerie stillness of the mansion.

In all the years of neglect and mental abuse, his mother had loved his father, made excuses for his absences and dalliances, defended his inability to love his only child. Her pathetic attempt at creating an image of his father that didn’t exist drove Varun further away from her.

The final straw had been when his mother had steadfastly refused to acknowledge Naina as his rightful wife. She had felt strongly about her husband’s choice of a wife for her son. He had too. Varun winced at the memory as he steered his car to his lane.

Parking his car out in the scorching sun he ran up the four steps into his home. The door was ajar, and he found his mother getting ready to go somewhere.

“Varun, you’re home early,” she observed, a frown creasing her smooth forehead.

He was too agitated to respond immediately. He dropped his car keys onto the center table and stood glaring at his mother with both hands on his hips. Shaking his head, he pursed his lips, taking a moment to bring his breathing under control, his thoughts under submission. The past cast a nasty shadow, and he had to take a moment to clear it. A normal conversation with his mother would be impossible otherwise.

With Naina’s perseverance and patience in the last few years, the mother-son relationship was on a better footing. He tried hard not to jeopardize that, but it largely involved keeping his mouth shut. Unfortunately, the situation demanded words of a firm nature.

Varun cleared his throat and tried to find the best way to broach the topic.

“When were you going to tell me that you are planning to demolish the mansion?”

The second the words were out, he mentally cursed – words he would never speak in front of his mother. That was not how he should have begun.

His mother smiled. “I now know how much you hate that place, Varun. I would never tie you to an inheritance that you hate so much. You don’t want to live there. You don’t want me to even step inside that place again. So, I think it’s better to demolish the building and maybe build a park for children in its place,” she said, confident of her decision.

Varun listened to his mother’s plan with growing apprehension. This wasn’t good at all.

“Ma, why didn’t you say something this morning? How long have you been planning this?” Varun’s voice rose in panic. “I still think it’s better to sell it off.”

“To Singhania?” She stared at her son. “To the man who killed your father?”

“Ma…” Varun raked his hands through his neatly styled hair and wet his lips. “He took his own life. It was his decision. There is no point blaming Singhania or his cronies for what happened.”

He cursed softly when he saw tears fill his mother’s eyes that looked very much like his. His wife would know what to do. Naina wasn’t home yet. He glanced at his watch and his mother whose silent tears landed a punch to his guts.