Baba = Father in Marathi

The grey Tata Motor car screeched to a halt just a foot shy of the entrance to the government bungalow.

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

The car's exterior gleamed under the porch light, its paint job reflecting the soft glow. Nearby tree branches swayed gently in the breeze, their leaves rustling softly and adding to the chill in the already crisp air.

The car's 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 there illuminated the person's features, and Karan's eyes narrowed. "Rudraksh..." he murmured.

His eyes remained fixed on Rudraksh'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's fingers 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 upwards, 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 rooftop railing, his eyes tracking the departing car as it dwindled into the distance. His expressions softened, but eyelids fluttered halfway closed before snapping back into focus. His gaze followed the lush greenery below, to the trees standing proudly against the breeze before coming to rest on the twinkling stars across the velvety expanse of grey and black sky. They shone with effortless elegance, announcing their presence without fanfare.

His eyes locked onto 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. He felt a sense of timelessness, as if the 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. The memories swirled, like leaves caught in a gentle eddy, each one tugging at his thoughts. He felt the weight of his decisions, the uncertainty of the path ahead, and the 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 him with only the echoes of his own doubts. He stood there, lost in thought, as the stars twinkled above. The polar star continued to shine, but offering no direct answers to his queries.

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The white LED mercury tube cast a harsh glare, illuminating every corner of the living room. The pale yellow walls reflected the light, making the space feel sterile. The TV's red and white lights flickered, showcasing the newsroom's frenetic energy. A lady anchor, her face contorted in outrage, shouted breaking news at the top of her lungs:

"The wife who killed her husband with her boyfriend got arrested by the state police!" she screamed, her voice echoing through the room. "Before this, another case came into the view where the wife along with her boyfriend, first murdered her husband, and then cut his body into pieces! Where is our society moving towards?! Is this the feminism we are promoting?! Is this the women empowerment we talk about?!"

Nakul, lounging in a brown plastic chair, one leg crossed over the other, chuckled. "Feminism is in the air," he quipped, his eyes darting toward Ira.

Ira sat on the bed's corner, wearing a white full sleeves woolen t-shirt and trousers. Her expression remained unreadable, eyes fixed on the portrait she was drawing on the A4 white paper.

The anchor continued to rant, and Nakul's grin grew wider. He leaned back in his chair, eyes never leaving Ira's face. "Guess some women are taking empowerment a bit too literally," he said sarcastically.

Ira set the pencil aside, her head lifting from the drawing book as she fixed Nakul with a piercing stare. "Why are you saying this looking at me?" she asked, her voice calm and measured.

Nakul shrugged, his shoulders barely rising. He shook his head a little, lips compressing into a thin line. "Equality."

Ira's gaze lingered on Nakul's face for a moment, before she averted her focus back to her drawing. Her fingers gently glide over the sketchbook, as she mixed the sheds. "I didn't talk about this equality," she replied dryly.

Her eyes scanned the page, her pencil strokes bold and confident. "And anyway, men have been harassing women for a long period of time. So, take it as nature's call. The table has turned. Now, enjoy."

Her eyes roamed over the edge of Lord Buddha's portrait in her drawing book, the serene face a stark contrast to the turmoil brewing inside her. The scent of graphite and paper filled the air, mingling with the faint smell of eraser shavings.

Nakul's eyebrows shot up as he leaned forward, his gaze locking onto Ira's calm profile. "So, you're supporting this?"

Ira's gaze snapped back to Nakul. "No. Not supporting," she said firmly. "Just surprised."

Nakul shifted in his chair as he gave Ira his full attention. The news anchor's voice continued to drone in the background, but his focus was solely on his sister.

"Meaning?" he pressed, eyes narrowing into slits as he waited for her response.

Ira exhaled deeply, the air escaping her parted lips with a whoosh. Her eyelids drooped, and she blinked slowly before drifting her gaze to a distant point. The lines on her forehead deepened, etching a map of concentration, as she collected her thoughts.

"Okay," she said, her voice steady. "I'll say, but let me finish first before saying your opinion. And don't scream if you don't get a good point to argue back." Her nose scrunched up, as she shot a forefinger out, pointing at Nakul.

Nakul scoffed, his lips curling up into a sly grin as he leaned forward. "So, are we debating over men v/s women again?"

Ira shrugged, a tilt of her head accompanying her movement. "Kind of." She pushed het lower lip out in a subtle pout.

Nakul's grin morphed into a smirk. "Okay," he said firmly. "So, what have you got to say this time?" His eyebrows raised a little as he waited for Ira's response.

Ira's lips parted with a soft plop, as she curled the bottom of her brown hair around her fingers. "So, my point is related to this case, and let's be honest," her hands began to make patterns in the air, "since a very, very long time, wives have been killed by their husbands and in-laws. Either by burning alive, poisoning, beating, torturing, and much more." Her eyebrows drew together as she expressed herself.

"And those cases never get highlighted," she said through clenched teeth. "I'm not saying it's right," she raised a palm, her eyes widening, "but, this couple of cases about men being killed by their wives have the whole men community in fear. They're reconsidering their decision to get married or not."

Her words hung in the air as she paused, taking in a deep breath before continuing, "But, not even for once, these men and their so-called patriarchy system have even thought about how those women have been suffering everything with pressed lips since forever." Her hands came to rest on her lap, as she waited for Nakul's response.

A faint, sarcastic smile crept onto Nakul's lips as he scratched the back of his head, his eyes cast downward on the floor. The scratching sound of his chair echoed softly in the room. A moment passed, and he raised his head, eyes locking onto Ira's anticipating gaze.

"So, little sister." Clasping his hands above his thigh, he leaned forward slightly. "Here's a harsh truth: when something has been in play for a long period of time, it becomes a norm."

Ira's eyes narrowed, her brow furrowing. "What do you mean?" she asked flatly.

Nakul's smile grew, and he continued, "What I meant is that women being killed or tortured is not something new to be heard or seen. But, men being in their shoes... is something eye-catching." He gestured towards the television with his hands, emphasizing his point.

A V-shaped crease formed between her straight eyebrows. "So, nobody's going to do anything now because it's become a norm?" Her voice was dry and detached, with a hint of bitterness.

Nakul's response was a low, sarcastic chuckle. "Do you do any research before coming to debate with me, Ira?" he taunted. "Because you seriously lack facts and knowledge."

Ira's pressed lips curled up in one corner, and her eyebrows furrowed even deeper.

Nakul shook his head, his eyes rolling slightly as he continued, "The law books are almost full in you women's favour." His jaw clenched tightly. "But there's not a single law that protects a man's life from your so-called 'toxic' feminism." As he spoke, his face contorted, reddening, the veins on his neck bulging out.

Ira's face transformed from a scowl to a calm, detached expression. "You're saying it as if every rape victim, every domestic violence survivor has gotten justice with your so-called laws written on paper only," she spoke calmly.

Nakul's face grew redder, as he leaned forward. "And more than half of those rape and domestic violence cases are fake." His fists clenched on his thighs, as if ready to spring into action.

"First, those oh-so-great women make relationships with the men, and when the men stop fulfilling their nonsense and ridiculous requirements, then, boom!" He yanked his hand up, fingers splayed wide. "They come in front of the judiciary, playing their women's cards!"

His chest heaved with each ragged breath, eyes wide with anger, and lips pursed in a tight line.

Ira clicked her tongue, poking her inner cheeks. Her eyes momentarily closed, before opening again. "Okay." She locked her gaze with Nakul's fierce stare. "I agree that there are bunches of women who take advantage of the privileges they've gotten as women."

She tilted her head to the side, her eyes never leaving Nakul's face. "But still," she emphasized the words, her voice firm, "you cannot deny the facts that the number of rape cases reported in police files is much lesser than those happening in society."

Her voice dropped to a lower tone, her words spilling out in a rush. "Because the families of the victims and the victim herself are afraid to report, in fear of the judgment they'll face from society." She paused, her chest rising with a deep breath. "And many times, the victim herself is not able to say things to her family in fear-"

"-Then that's the girl's fault!" Nakul cut her mid-sentence, his voice sharp and dismissive.

Ira's eyebrows furrowed, her eyes flashing with annoyance as she leaned forward. "How come it's the girl's fault?"

"Why?" Nakul's shoulders rose and fell in a lazy motion. "If she knows she's right, then why fear reporting it to the police or sharing the news with her family?"

Ira's lips parted as she gazed at Nakul with an unblinking stare. She raised her hand, palm facing him, as if stopping him from speaking. "Do you live under a rock?" she asked, her expression serene.

"Your society is still not that open-minded," she continued, "For them, if a girl's been raped, then it's her fault, not the man's. Because, of course," her lips curled up in a sneer, "she must be inviting. Boys are saints, monks. It's the girls who must be flashing her... beauties, and the poor boy went astray." She shook her head with a pout.

"I don't believe this," Nakul said, shaking his head. "If the girl will share her problems with her family, they will definitely help her."

Ira's eyes fixed intently on Nakul's, as she swallowed the lump forming in her throat. "Really?"

Nakul's expression remained confident for a moment before he shrugged. "Okay, if not parents, she can share it with her brother."

Ira's eyes never left Nakul's face . "What if she has no brother?" she asked, her voice flat.

"Then, she can share it with other members of her family." He spoke carelessly, his tone dismissive, as if the matter was closed.

"What if that other member of her family takes advantage of her misery?" Her calmly said words seemed to challenge Nakul's simplistic view.

"Now you're taking it too far, okay," he said, pointing a firm finger at her.

"I'm just telling the truth." Ira's voice remained detached. "Most of the time, it's some relatives who pull up this heinous crime."

Nakul's face contorted. "I don't believe this." He shook his head.

"Why do you think that all men are saints?" she asked, frustrated.

Nakul shook his head, a hint of a smile on his lips. "I'm not," he said. "But you're making it sound like all men are dogs, and all women are angels."

Ira's lips curled up as she retorted, "No, I'm not." Her voice was sharp. "I'm just saying that if all men are not dogs, in the same way, all women are not bitches." She emphasized each word, her eyes locked onto Nakul's. "So, stop measuring everyone by the same standards."

Nakul's expression softened, his shoulders relaxing as he took a deep breath. "I think we've both made our points," he said, a hint of a smile on his lips.

"I still have a lot to say on this." She shrugged. "But, if you don't get any point to continue..."

Nakul got out of his chair, walked towards Ira and held out his hand.

Ira took it, their palms clasping in a firm handshake.

"Thanks for the debate," Nakul said flatly.

Ira's lips twitched up in one corner as she narrowed her eyes. "Whatever."

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Kanak sat on the steps to the entrance gate, her slender frame wrapped in a black set of night pyjamas, her knees drawn up to her chest. She clutched a photo frame tightly between her chest and crossed arms, her face hidden behind the veil of her elbow-length hair.

The porch light cast a warm glow on her puffy face, occasionally illuminating her flushed cheeks as the winter air whipped her hair lazily across her skin.

The sound of gentle footsteps broke the silence, perking up her ears, but her gaze remained fixed on the dusty ground ahead. A pair of leg stopped beside her, and a black jacket settled around her shoulders, enveloping her in its warmth.

Kanak lolled her head down, her chin dipping into her chest as she clutched the jacket around herself.

Karan sat beside her, his lips pressed into a thin line. He held both his ears, elbows resting on his thighs, and head tilted forward. "Sorry," he whispered. "I promise I will never scold you from now on."

"You always say that." Her voice trembled, eyes brimming with tears that threatened to spill over. She didn't face Karan, her gaze fixed on some point ahead, but her chest heaved with suppressed emotion.

"If today," her voice cracked, and she struggled to continue, "Baba were with us, he would have taught you a good lesson." The tears finally broke free, rolling down her cheek in a slow, glistening trail. Her grip around the photo frame tightened, as she hiccuped, the sound catching in her throat.

Karan's eyes dropped to the ground, his fingers absently tracing the rough contours of the step's edge. The silence that followed was oppressive, heavy with unspoken emotions. The distant chirping of grasshoppers and the occasional honk of vehicles in the distance only served to emphasize the suffocating stillness between the siblings.

His gaze drifted upward. The night sky was a deep shade of indigo, with the stars shining brightly like tiny diamonds. "If Baba would have been with us today... many things would have been different." His words were laced with melancholy and longing.

His gaze fell upon Kanak, and his lips stretched into a sad smile. He gently reached out a hand to her head, fingers caressing her scalp in a soothing motion.

The touch seemed to calm Kanak slightly, her sobs slowing as she wiped the snort with the sleeves of her t-shirt.

"Did you eat?" Karan asked gently.

"I threw the makeup kit," she said, words punctuated by her sniffles.

Karan's fingers froze in her hair, and he nodded curtly. "Good for you," he said, a small smile playing on his lips.

Kanak's eyes narrowed, her puffed cheeks giving her a comically indignant look. She shot Karan a sideways glance.

Karan's eyebrows arched upward, his expression serious. "Yeah, good for you. You're just fourteen, your skin is too delicate for these chemical products." Conviction etched in his voice. "Also, this can affect your neural system." His head bobbed once as he shared the news, his eyes locked onto Kanak's. "You can research it. I'm not lying."

"You are exaggerating. Not all products are harmful," Karan said, her nose wrinkling.

Karan inhaled a deep breath, releasing it slowly into the air. His chest rose and fell with the motion, as he gently pulled Kanak into a side hug. "Even if I'm," he began, his tone stern but his voice filled with the love and care of a parent. "Your sole focus should be on study, not looks or boys." He held her close, his arm wrapped around her shoulders.

Kanak's body relaxed slightly into the hug, her tension easing.

Karan's words were soft but firm, his breath whispering against her hair. "Learn to be confident with your knowledge, not behind a shield of something false," he advised, his voice gentle but persuasive. "And, if someday, when you're an adult and then want to try those makeup stuff, still then, treat them as an option, not a necessity."

Kanak's hands wrapped snugly around Karan's waist, her head nestled on his shoulder as she listened intently to his words. The soft fabric of his blue hoodie rustled against her cheek, and the warmth of his body enveloped her.

Karan's eyes crinkled at the corners as he gazed down at her head with a warm smile. "Do you understand what I'm saying?" he asked calmly, his voice low and soothing.

Kanak's whispered response was barely audible. "Yeah..." Her voice trailed off into silence. "No makeup, no boy till I'm an adult." As she spoke, her head moving against Karan's shoulder.

Karan pulled out from the hug, his hands sliding off Kanak's shoulders as he moved his head backward. "I only allowed makeup, not boys."

His eyes narrowed as he gazed at Kanak's confused expression with furrowed eyebrows. His pressed lips stretched into a wide smile as he added, "You will become a monk, and live here with me."

Kanak's face contorted, as she blinked at him with parted lips. She shook her head, a wide smile spreading across her face. "Stop being an over possessive brother, bhaiya," she said, her voice filled with affectionate exasperation. "Maan is a good boy." Her eyes sparkled at the mention of Vardhaman.

Karan's eyebrows arched, and he snatched the photo frame from Kanak's grip, his movements swift and decisive. "No boy is good," he said, his voice firm. "Focus on your studies."

With a scrunched nose, Kanak got up, her foot stomping loudly on the floor as she walked briskly towards the house. "Heartless," she muttered under her breath.

Karan's eyes followed Kanak's retreating figure until she disappeared into the darkness of the hallway. A deep sigh escaped his lips, and he turned his focus back to the photo frame in his hand.

The photo depicted a man in his late 30s, dressed in army uniform; his face clean-shaven and fair-skinned. A warm smile played on his lips, and a row of medals adorned the left side of his chest. His army cap rested proudly on his head.

Karan's eyes lingered on the familiar features, and a sad smile crept onto his face. "I miss you, Baba," he whispered, his voice trembling slightly. His eyes misted up, and he clutched the photo frame tightly to his chest. The familiar scent of the frame's wooden border wafted up, transporting him back to memories of his father. "I miss you so much," he repeated, his voice cracking with emotion.

A/N: A chapter full of siblings' love and hate relationships.

Fun fact: The news is real.

1. What is your opinion about Nakul-Ira debate?

2. What do you think about Karan's approach towards his younger sister's upbringing?