Page 91

“Sorry,” he tightened the duvet around them all and pushed his face into the pillow smelling of his daughter. His hand remained curved over her, playing with Ava’s hair until he could hear two very feminine, delicate, breathy snores. Samarth closed his eyes to the best music of his life.

————————————————————

Only a few days ago he had stood on the other side of the door of this house and heard the happy pandemonium of a morning. Now, he was at the centre of it.

“I am not doing that hairstyle for you!”

“Please! Only today!”

“You end up pulling it all out!”

Samarth smiled, walking to his phone charging on the TV console and checking for their breakfast order.

Ava had an off today again because Brahmi wanted white dhokla.

He went through his emails as he waited for the call to Parmeshwar to connect.

It had been ages since he had found a minute to check what was going on in Nawanagar.

Since he hadn’t gotten an SOS from Vishwajeet or Papa, he assumed things were in order.

The call failed and a message popped up on the top of his screen.

HARSH

Sharan is here in Loire

Samarth stopped scrolling.

SAMARTH

When?

Where is he?

Don’t tell him where I am. I will come this afternoon and meet him.

Why didn’t Papa or Rajmata call?

HARSH

He landed this morning. I don’t think Rajmata knows he is here.

SAMARTH

How can she not know? Let me call her

HARSH

He had a stopover in Paris before flying to US for some environment conference Bade Rawal was supposed to attend

SAMARTH

Then what is he doing in Loire?

“I am readdddy!” Brahmi came singing out of her room, Ava behind her. “Where is breakfast?”

SAMARTH

I have to go, keep Sharan there until I come

“Papaaa!” Brahmi shook him from the waist.

“Yes, beta,” he laughed, punching Parmeshwar’s number again. “I am calling him.”

The shrill house bell tore through the hall. Brahmi jumped, running towards the door — “It’s here!”

“You’re going to make her a pakka Gujarati,” Ava sulked close to him.

He slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her into his side — “She is a Gujarati. You’ve been trying for years with poha and sev.

What did she like? Jalebi-fafda and white dhokla,” he whispered in her ear, jumping back from her elbow.

“Bhai?”

His head whirled to the open doorway.

“Hi, did you get my idli-thing?” Brahmi demanded. Sharan’s head bent, and his mouth dropped open. Just as Brahmi’s mouth blew up in an O. She turned to him — “Look it’s your brother, Papa!”

————————————————————

Sharan’s eyes behind his glasses were the rounds that Brahmi’s mouth always was. Strangely, he had never noticed this about his own brother in 18 years.

Samarth stood in front of him in Ava’s garden, waiting for the shock to wear off. He could sense the curtain swivel from side to side in his peripheral vision. Brahmi.

“Why are you smiling, Bhai?” Sharan asked. Samarth realised then that even the thought of Brahmi’s shenanigans had his facial muscles stretching.

“Does Mummy know you are here?”

“Papa,” Sharan muttered.

“Papa knows?”

“No!” He stuttered. “You Papa . Is it really…? Bhai?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Long?” His eyes widened.

“She is seven years old.”

Realisation dawned. “Oh, yes. So…?”

“I met her mother, Avantika, in school…”

“In school ?!”

“Sharan, zip it.” Samarth stepped up, making him step back. “School was twenty years ago. I am telling you something important that you will not repeat to Papa until I speak to him.”

“What about Mummy?”

Samarth paused.

“Mummy knows ?!!”

“Alright, you are going back,” he grabbed his bicep. “Come on.”

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” He held his ground. “Sorry. I’ll shut up.”

Samarth glared at him.

“Sorry,” a laugh burst forth from his shocked mouth. “Seriously, I am Kaka…”

“Yeah,” Samarth glanced behind his shoulder at Brahmi’s face peeking from between two sheer curtains behind the closed window. She thought she was invisible. He smiled.

“You are. Her name is Brahmi and she is my daughter.”

————————————————————

Samarth opened the door of the house to Brahmi’s evergreen chatter.

Ava sat at the table with her, feeding her the precious dhokla that Sharan had carried.

The sneaky boy had intimidated Parmeshwar into coughing up the delivery address for the breakfast and come to deliver it himself.

For the first time, Harsh didn’t realise what passed out from under his nose.

Samarth wanted to blast Sharan for his sneaky ways but then he remembered his own underhanded means as a teenager and thought the better of it. It ran in Solanki blood.

“Papa and Papa’s brother did their talking,” Brahmi announced. Ava glanced up. Samarth closed the door behind them and walked to the table with Sharan by his side. Ava got to her feet.

“Ava, this is my brother — Sharan. Sharan, this is Ava, and our daughter — Brahmi.”

“Hi!” Brahmi waved with her left hand, biting into the dhokla in her right hand. Sharan rounded the table to her and bent to her eye level — “Hi! Are you the girl who rides horses the fastest?”

Brahmi’s mouth opened in an O.

“How did you know?”

“I know everything. Your Papa comes to ask me things too.”

“Like what?”

“Like what’s the life cycle of mosquitoes…”

“Eww!”

“And what’s the best season to breed hors…”

“Sharan.”

“Feed horses,” he corrected. “Feed horses.”

“That’s silly. You have to feed them every day.”

“Oh yes,” Sharan pretended to realise. “Shit, you know stuff more than me! Whoa!” He held his hand up. She chucked it with hers. “I know many many secrets.”

“Then we can share our secrets and make our own library of secrets.”

“Yes!” Her eyes widened. “I have space in my backyard too.”

“Awesome. How is the dhokla?”

“It’s my new favouritest.”

“Like your Papa’s. By the way, I delivered it with my own hands…”

“Please join us for breakfast,” Ava invited. “I have already added a place setting for you.”

Sharan glanced up at Ava and rose to his feet, folding his hands like a Kunwar was supposed to.

“I would love to join you all. Thank you.”

Avantika’s smile was genuine then, not a fake one meant for an uninvited guest. She folded her own hands in return — “I have heard a lot about you,” she leaned in. “All those Late Night Boys Club meetings minutes were passed on by a traitor member.”

Sharan laughed, his glasses wobbly as his face bent closer — “Oh, we have heard a lot about you too. Not from the traitor member but from our Papa. The cricketer Ava.”

Ava’s mouth dropped open.

“I told you about Papa’s obsession,” Samarth confessed to her cryptically. “You were one of the top contenders.”

Sharan raised his hand — “I would have voted for you for sure.”

“Me too!” Brahmi followed suit.

“Do you even know what the vote was for?” Sharan knocked on her forehead. She knocked on his stomach — “Whatever it is I always vote for my Mama.”

“In that case,” Samarth raised his hand — “So do I.”