Manjhale bhaiya = Middle older brother

Bhabhi = Elder brother's wife

Shravan Kumar = Shravan Kumar was a devoted son who carried his blind parents on a pilgrimage, showcasing ultimate filial piety.

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The sun stood at its zenith, casting a warm glow over the house as it occasionally peeked through the dark clouds drifting lazily across the sky. The chirping of birds and the gentle gusts of wind broke the suffocating silence that had settled within the empty living room. The walls, adorned with family photos, seemed to echo with memories, their smiles frozen in time. The furniture, once alive with laughter and conversation, now stood silent and still.

DING DONG! DING DONG!

Anusuiya emerged from one of the rooms, her face blank, emotionless. Her blue cotton saree rustled softly as she walked toward the main door, the gentle jingle of her payal and bangles whispering faintly behind her.

The door creaked open, allowing a cool breeze to slip in like a thief seizing an opportunity. Anusuiya's eyes locked onto the person at the door for a moment before she turned and walked back inside.

"You returned very soon," she said, her voice dry and detached, her eyes fixed on the floor ahead.

Aanand followed closely, his white kurta swaying gently with each step, his gaze glued to her back.

Anusuiya pushed open the bedroom door and moved toward the bed, where clothes lay scattered haphazardly. She began folding them with deliberate precision.

Aanand sat down on one corner of the bed, his eyes still on his wife. "Maiyaan said she'll be living in Prayagraj from now on. I'll be transferred to another city in six or seven months, so it's better for her to stay there... among family."

Anusuiya's hands paused for a moment, her fingers hovering over a folded saree, before she continued.

"H-How is Rudraksh?" Aanand asked softly, hesitant.

"Alive."

Aanand's eyes dropped, his fingers absently rubbing the fabric of his kurta above his thigh.

Anusuiya's eyes welled up, her chest tightening. "The doctor said he needs therapy." Her throat bobbed as she swallowed.

"I am... sorry, Anusuiya," Aanand whispered, unable to look into his wife's glistening eyes.

Anusuiya let out a dry chuckle, looking at her husband with narrowed eyes. "Sorry," she repeated. "Do you forgive a culprit after they say this word in the courtroom?" Her voice cracked, and a tear rolled down her cheek.

Scoffing, she returned to the clothes, her hands folding and refolding them with jerky movements. The fabric rustled and crumpled beneath her fingers.

"Three years and nine months," she said through clenched teeth. "My Rudraksh was only three years and nine months old."

With a sudden movement, she threw the cloth onto the bed, the fabric scattering across the sheets. "Because of you!"

Aanand's head snapped up. "Anusuiya-"

"What Anusuiya?!" she burst out, leaning forward, her arms rigid at her sides, her eyes blazing. "You and your father both said that witch would love my son more than anyone-that I shouldn't worry! Your father didn't even let us meet him! Why? Because that would've helped my son stay attached to that gutter's insect! Did you see how much she cared?!"

Aanand's eyes fell to the scattered clothes. "Anusuiya... we did what we thought was right at that time," he mumbled. "She was dying. And giving Rudraksh to her was the only way to save her. You had seen how much she used to love him."

"Then where did her love go when her own miraculous son came into this world, huh?!" Her voice rose, echoing off the walls. "Then my son became a burden to her? Suddenly, all the love shifted to her son, and nobody saw how she treated mine. The child she once claimed to love more than anyone!"

Aanand's face twisted, his gaze still lowered. "She regrets it now, Anusui-"

Anusuiya stepped closer and spat, "I also regret believing my child was safe with you and your family!" She jabbed a finger toward him, her arm trembling. "And why are you taking her side?" Her hand curled into a fist at her stomach. "She's your elder brother's wife, not yours!"

"What rubbish are you talking about, Anusuiya?!" Aanand snapped, his voice rising. "Watch your words!"

Anusuiya's face crumpled, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. "I watched you and your family's ridiculous actions for years! And now I have to watch my words too?"

Aanand stood, gently placing his hands on her shoulders. "Anu... please, try to understand my situation too," he said softly, his fingers caressing her shoulders in a plea for understanding.

"Manjhale Bhaiya did so much for me," he continued, his voice heavy. "Because of him, I could study without worry. He worked in the fields and sent money for my expenses."

His eyes searched hers. "And did you forget, Anu?" he asked gently. "He was the only person who supported me when I said I wanted to marry you. Both my elder brother and your elder sister were against it, but he stood by me. He did so much for us, Anu."

Anusuiya's expression remained twisted, her chest heaving more with each affectionate word.

"So when bhaiya and bhabhi were struggling to have a child even after ten years of marriage, I couldn't bear to see their misery."

Anusuiya's voice trembled, tears streaming down her face. "So you decided to repay his favors by giving away my child. And everyone supported you," she said bitterly. "You became their Shravan Kumar, and my child... he became just a thing. Nobody stood up for him when your dear great Bhabhi was torturing him."

Aanand's face contorted with regret. "Anu-"

"Go to hell with your disgusting family!" she shouted, jerking his hands off her shoulders and storming out of the room.

The door slammed shut behind her.

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Ira lay on the bed, her stomach pressed into the mattress, which dipped slightly under her weight. Her elbows were bent, supporting her upper body as she held her phone in both hands. Her thumbs moved rapidly over the screen - back and forth, up and down - as she played Temple Run.

"C'mon, c'mon... a little more," she mumbled, lips pursed in concentration.

"Ira!" Nakul's voice boomed across the dining area, cutting sharply through the room.

Ira didn't flinch, too absorbed in her game.

"Ira?!"

Still nothing. Her eyes remained locked on the screen, unwavering in focus.

"IRA?!"

Ira shut her eyes and tossed her phone onto the pillow, the device landing with a soft thud.

"What?!" she snapped, storming out of the room.

Nakul looked up from his phone, his gaze meeting hers, and a grin spread across his face. "Food," he said casually.

Ira's face twisted, and she planted her hands on her waist. Leaning forward, she hissed, "Don't you have limbs?"

Nakul's eyes dropped back to his screen, fingers flying across it as he continued playing. "Shut up and bring the food," he muttered, dismissive.

"I'm not your servant!" she exploded, spinning around. Her hair whipped behind her as she headed back toward the room.

The chair scraped loudly as Nakul shot to his feet and grabbed her arm, stopping her in place. "First get food for me, then you can go," he said, his grip firm.

Ira's face contorted as she tried to yank her arm free. "But why should I?! Why can't you get your own food? Have I ever asked you to serve me-or even bring me a glass of water?!"

"That's your problem, you don't ask." In one swift motion, Nakul lifted her up, carried her toward the kitchen, and set her down carefully. He flashed a wide smile and gestured toward the kitchen. "Food," he repeated, firm yet annoyingly playful.

Ira plopped down on the floor, cross-legged, arms folded tightly over her chest. She turned her face away, jaw clenched in stubborn defiance.

Nakul folded his arms, staring her down with a challenging glint. "I'll also not move until you serve me food."

The jingling of payal and bangles drifted through the room, signaling Vaidehi's arrival.

Ira's head snapped up. She rushed toward her mother, face twisted in frustration. "Mummy! Tell him to serve his own food!" she demanded, pointing accusingly at Nakul.

Nakul watched, smirking.

Vaidehi sank tiredly into a chair, pressing her fingers to her forehead as if to ease a growing headache. "Beta, serve him, can't you? My head is aching."

Ira turned between the two of them, her face tightening with disbelief. Her hands jerked at her sides, fingers curling into fists.

Nakul wriggled his eyebrows at her, the smirk still intact.

"No! You should've taught him to do his own chores from the start!" Ira shot back, glaring at Vaidehi. "This is why he's become so reckless!"

"He will learn with time, beta..." Vaidehi whispered tiredly.

Ira's expression twisted. "He's twenty-five! When will he learn-at eighty-five?!"

Nakul's smirk widened. "Aeyy, drama queen. Your performance is over. Now serve the food. C'mon."

Ira's eyes flared as she glared daggers at him. "Handicapped dog," she muttered under her breath, lips curling into a snarl.

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The room, adorned with light black and white walls, glowed softly. Karan stood near the dressing table, bathed in the warm light of fancy LED bulbs. A neat row of perfumes lined the bottom of the mirror, accompanied by various watches, men's creams, a mobile phone, a scrapbook, crayons, and a leather belt.

The scent of his cologne drifted through the air, mingling with the faint aroma of cream. His fingers moved deftly as he buttoned his plain deep brown shirt, the fabric rustling softly.

He reached toward the table, picked up the belt and slid it through the loops of his black jeans.

"Dada!"

Karan's head lifted. His eyes flicked toward his sister before darting back to the table. His gaze lingered on the spot where his belt had been. His movements stopped. He blinked rapidly and lifting his head sharply. His hands hung limply by his sides, fingers curling into fists.

"What the hell is this, Kanak?!"

Kanak stood in the doorway, her georgette orange floral frock rustling softly as she shifted her weight. The puffed quarter sleeves accentuated her slender arms. The ghungroo payal on her ankles jingled faintly as she moved, and her feet, painted with vibrant red aalta, seemed to glow against the muted tones of the room. The golden bracelets on her wrists glinted in the light as she clutched her stomach, her fingers digging into the fabric.

Her elbow-length black hair, curled at the ends, fell over her back and framed her round face. Her red-painted lips trembled, and her kajal-lined eyes brimmed with tears, droplets rolling down her flushed cheeks like dew on winter rose petals.

"Aai..." She brought a hand to the corners of her eyes and wiped her tears roughly with her knuckles. Her mouth opened wide as she cried, sniffled, and sobbed.

"Aai! Aai! Come here!" Karan's deep voice boomed through the room, his eyes widening and eyebrows furrowing as he glared at Kanak's tear-streaked face.

Kanak's cries grew louder as she wiped her tears with the back of her palms, smudging her makeup into streaks of kajal, blush, and lipstick across her cheeks.

Rukmini's footsteps echoed as she entered, the soft rustle of her plain pink cotton saree following her. Lines deepened on her forehead as her mouth fell open, taking in the scene. Her neatly tied bun framed her worried expression, a few loose strands brushing her face.

"What happened?"

Karan held Kanak by her arm with a firm but controlled movement and turned her toward their mother. "What is this, Aai?" he demanded, pointing at Kanak's smeared face. "She's just fourteen and you're buying her these stupid makeup kits!"

Rukmini pressed her lips together, exhaling softly. Watching her daughter's tearful face and her son's reddened one, she sighed. "She was insisting so much..."

"Aai... I will not talk to Dada..." Kanak cried, stretching her arms toward her mother.

Karan pulled her back. "Shut up!"

Rukmini's eyes narrowed. "Karan, stop scolding her! You're making her cry." She wrapped Kanak in her arms, holding her tightly as the girl cried against her mother.

Karan shut his eyes, lips twisting in annoyance. "Stop crying, Kanak. You'll tear my eardrum."

Kanak wailed louder.

Rukmini groaned, closing her eyes in frustration. "Stop making her cry, Karan, or I'll throw both of you out of the house!"

Karan stepped forward, holding Kanak gently by the nape and opened the dressing table drawer. The wood slid back with a muffled sound, followed by the rustle of packaging as he pulled out a pack of wet tissues. He took a few and began wiping the streaks of makeup from his sister's face.

The soft fabric glided over her skin, erasing the smudges and revealing her tear-stained features beneath.

Karan's stern look faded into a faint smile as he turned her toward the mirror. Her reflection showed puffy eyes, trembling lips, and a blotchy face. "See? You're already very pretty without these things," he said gently.

Kanak stared at herself, her eyes filling with fresh tears. "You ruined my hard work!" she cried, throwing her fists down and glaring up at him.

Karan sighed, running his tongue across his lips before smiling softly. He cupped her cheeks, brushing the hair from her forehead. "Kanak, my little angel, these things are bad for you. Your skin will get ruined. They're useless. Don't use them again." His shook his head, nose wrinkling slightly.

Kanak's eyebrows furrowed. "But my friends from tuition said beautiful girls should use makeup!" Her cheeks puffed out in stubborn protest.

Karan's expression softened further. He pulled her into a hug, wrapping his arms around her small frame. Her head rested against his chest, and he felt her heartbeat slowly settling. "Don't go to that tuition anymore. I'll teach you at home," he murmured.

As he held her, he raised his eyebrows at Rukmini, who watched them with a mix of concern and amusement.

"By the way," he asked, gently patting Kanak's head, "why are you so dressed up? Are you going somewhere?"

Kanak nodded into his shirt. "I wanted to go with you... to Rudraksh Bhaiya's house."

Karan's eyebrows drew together. "Why?"

Her voice was barely audible. "To meet my friend."

Karan pulled back, gripping her shoulders. "Which friend of yours lives there?" His tone sharpened.

"Maan." A shy smile bloomed on Kanak's face, her cheeks turning pink.

Karan blinked, his mouth falling open. "You're blushing?" His voice rose in disbelief. "Aai! She's blushing-what the hell?!"

Kanak's lips quivered, tears welling again.

"And his name is Vardhaman, not Maan. Focus on your studies!" His voice echoed through the room, making Kanak flinch.

He grabbed his brown leather-strap watch from the dressing table and fastened it around his wrist with a click. With one last glance at Kanak, he turned toward the door.

"Control her, Aai!" he called out as he walked away.

"Aai! He's so heartless..." Kanak sobbed, voice cracking.

Rukmini wrapped her arms around her daughter, pulling her close. A small laugh escaped her as she stroked Kanak's hair gently. "Should we continue with your homework, beta?"

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The grey Tata Motors screeched to a halt just a foot shy of the entrance to the government bungalow. Its exterior gleamed under the porch light. Nearby tree branches swayed gently in the breeze, their leaves rustling softly and adding to the chill in the already crisp air.

Two constables lounged in chairs on either side of the black iron gate; their eyes flickered lazily toward the car before returning to their conversation.

The car window slid down, and Karan's head emerged. His eyes scanned the house before coming to rest on a figure pacing back and forth on the rooftop. The dim yellow light from above illuminated the person's features, and Karan's eyes narrowed.

"Rudraksh..." he murmured.

His gaze remained fixed on his friend's back profile, taking in the shawl wrapped around his body, which billowed slightly in the breeze. Rudraksh's hair whipped across his face with every gust of wind, and Karan absently traced the roots of his own short hair, his nose scrunching up.

Why doesn't he get a haircut?

Just as Karan was lost in thought, Rudraksh turned around, and their eyes met.

Karan's eyes widened, and he swiftly adjusted himself in the driver's seat. His hands moved quickly, and the glass glided upward, enveloping the car in silence once more. His foot pressed on the accelerator, and the humming engine roared back to life.

The car drove away, leaving a trail of dust and dried leaves swirling in the air. The crunch of gravel beneath the tires was the only sound that remained, fading slowly into the distance.

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Rudraksh stood near the railing, his eyes tracking the departing car as it dwindled into the distance. His expression softened, his eyelids fluttering halfway closed before snapping back into focus. His gaze drifted downward to the lush greenery below, the trees standing proudly against the breeze, before rising again to the twinkling stars scattered across the velvety expanse of grey and black sky.

They shone with effortless elegance, announcing their presence without fanfare.

His eyes found the polar star in the northern sky, and a wave of calm washed over him, like the gentle warmth of a soft fur blanket on a cold glacier. The polar star's steady presence had been a constant in the universe, guiding countless travelers through unfamiliar terrain - through forests, deserts, and uncharted lands.

His mind began to wander, replaying the events that had led him to this moment. He felt the weight of his decisions, the uncertainty of the path ahead, and the aching longing for clarity.

In what way should I move forward? Wish you could clear the maze inside my mind as well.

His inner voice seemed to dissolve into the night, leaving behind only the echoes of his doubts. He stood there, lost in thought, as the stars shimmered above. The polar star continued to shine - silent, distant, and unyielding - offering no answers to his questions.