A U T H O R

Over the crowded, rushed and busy roads of Mumbai where people wants to beat time, wants to conquer over the dreams they had seen with open eyes – called as a city of dreams as people don’t walk, they run…people don’t attract, they chase. Was a car.

A black SUV – with a customized number plate name, like a vehicle also spoke volumes their names carried, was running on the concrete road with a steady speed as if the person sitting in the driving seat had all the time in the world and why not?

Two most important people of his life who, most precisely held the meaning of his existence, were companying him.

Right beside him, dressed in an over-sized t-shirt and baggy jeans, hair tied in a loose bun, few curls framing her face was sitting his wife – the love his life.

He glanced at her once, tossing one of his charming smiles which made her heart flutter despite the fourteen years of their lovely married life.

He winked at her once when she rolled her eyes over his smirk he flashed into her way and immediately turned back to look back, on the back seat of the car, to ensure their eleven years old son hadn’t witnessed the public display of his father’s shamelessness.

Although, he was used to it, watching them stealing moments in the quite corners of their Bungalow and being their over mischievous son, he managed to shatter those moments, leaving his parents all flustered and speechless but it didn’t stop them to express their feelings.

She exhaled a long sigh, thanking the universe that at least this one time, which was the rarest moment, they were being spared of the teasing from a child… that too their own son.

But her face fell instantly as she found him leaning against the head post of the seat, his otherwise wide, curious and black eyes devoid of the usual spark, replaced by an ache that dulled his whole face, its shine lost as he was staring at the vehicles passing by mindlessly, hands resting on his thighs.

Pang shot through her chest watching their only reason of being felt alive looked like some show piece of a showroom, no gleam, only presentation.

She looked at her husband who was only looking at her the times she whipped her head to check-out on their child. They shared a knowing look and she shook her head in disapproval.

Her husband blink, reassuring with his eyes and turned his focus back on driving.

“What happened, my champ?” He cooed, addressing his son with a nickname.

“Nothing, dad.” The boy replied, upset evident in his voice. No matter how kittle he was with his parents but he never ignored them. Not willingly.

“Come on, baby,” his father pressed, taking a smooth turn over a road, “we are a team. Remember.” Enthusiasm laced in his voice.

“That’s why you took me back from the park,” he crossed his arms over his chest, a pout forming on his thin lips.

His father glanced at his mother, arching a brow in a silent urge to help him pacify their upset son.

She narrowed her eyes at her husband, almost deciding to not jump between the Duo but the look he gave her, lower-lip jutting out, short hair scattered on his forehead, melted her within a fraction of a second.

“Baby,” she began, her voice motherly, “your dad had some emergency in his office otherwise you know,” she shoot a glance at her husband, her eyes warming in adoration as she continued, “your dad always prioritize you over everything. Remember when he canceled his business deal for your trip.”

Her son craned his neck toward his mother, understanding dawned upon him, “but I wanted to more rides,” he complained yet there was no edge in his tone.

They had gone for a small picnic, for some family time to a fare combined with an amusement park in the middle of the city. Everything was going smooth as they laughed, teased and took rides together until his father’s phone buzzed. He was informed about the emergency in the company and the need of his immediate presence but he clearly denied, not wanting his professional life a barrier in his moments with his family. But as the problem was big so reluctantly, he had to come back, breaking his son’s heart.

“For that,” his father said sincerely, “your papa is really sorry, my boy. I promise this won’t happen again. And,” his tone morphed into playfulness, “I will take both of you on a world trip. Its been quite a long we had a proper family time except these small Sunday plannings.”

Both, his son and his wife gave him a look of amusement.

“Really, dad?” His son asked, his wide eyes searching his father’s in a rear view mirror.

“Are you serious?” His wife joined in, mouth wide a gap.

“Ofcourse, I am.” He nodded, chuckling at their reactions.

“Love you, dad.” The young boy squeaked, leaning toward his father from behind, “you are the best.”

“And me?” His mother raised a brow at her son, pretending to be offense by his statement, “am I not?”

“Oh! My miss universe. You are incomparable.” He clicked his tongue, leaning toward his mother to peck her cheek. She returned the gesture with a soft giggle, smooching his cheek, “mamma loves you the most.”

“What about me?” Her husband eyed her, changing the gear of the car. As a result, the car sped up just a little.

“Shut up,” she snapped and rolled her eyes at him.

“Don’t be shy, mom,” her son jumped in, his tone teasing, “kiss dad if you want.”

Her gaze fled and locked with his son in a silent warning, her cheeks heating up.

“I have seen you guys enough, so its fine,” the young hurricane only shrugged, holding back a laughter as he bit his lip.

“Yeah ! he has seen us,” his father added, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. She swatted his arm, “have some shame,” she chided.

“What’s that?” He squinted his brows at her, teasing her even more.

The son wasn’t far away as he asked in a most serious tone a kid could muster, “yeah mom, what’s that?”

She pressed her palms on her ears, her face was completely red, “shut up, both of you.”

The father and the son busted into a spits of laughter. She glared at them but they only laugh harder and she too joined them a moment later, not able to stop herself.

Soon, the car filled with their joyous laughter, blending with endless mischief and family banters as their hooting and squeals faded the earlier tension.

But may be fate or someone couldn’t bear their happiness.

A loaded truck, speeding like it was taking a part in a marathon, rushed toward their car.

His father’s eyes widened in alert, his grip on the steering wheel turned impossibly tight as he commanded, “lower your heads.”

He rotate the steering, an attempt to escape the mishap but maybe something else was written in their fates, something tragic as the truck collided with their car.

Bang.

Smoke everywhere. Tires screeched violently against the asphalt. The impact sent a car into a jolt. It’s front got crumbled like a paper.

The front sitters were severely injured, to the point of death as their heads drenched in blood like they had bathed in a color of red, limbs broken and hands, they felt like canvas of mixture of  flesh, bones and blood.

Their breaths were ragged, heavy, nowhere close to human’s normal heart rate.

As their son was on back seat, he was spared from the critical injuries but his forehead was glistening with a few drops of blood, indicating the some of the deep scratches and wounds on it. Luckily, rest of his body was fine.

His eyes opened with a jerk, he glanced at himself, finding his black t-shirt stained with blood dots, his blood ran cold.

Realization washed over him like a tide, sudden, unforgiving and no way to escape.

He lifted his head and looked forward, his body went numb.

His parents head were thrown on the crumpled glass like they were a part of it, his father’s white crisp shirt appeared like a dye of a red.

A sob escaped his mouth, choking his breath as he stared without moving, without breathing, without blinking, he looked more lifeless than the two most dearest people of his life were.

He was frozen.

Then a voice echoed in his ear, a whisper, fragile and barely audible yet efforts put in to voice that word made his heart stop.

“Dharv.” His mother called him by his name.

Dharv reacted immediately as if he was waiting for that one voice, “y-yes, m-mom.” He stammered, leaning in with a shaky body.

“Are you fine, baby?” She managed, gritting her teeth as pain shot through her whole body.

“I-I am fine, mom b-but y-you a-and,” his face was drained of colors, words barely escaping his mouth, “D-Dad,” he choked out, looking at his father’s face pressed against the steering.

His mother tilted her head and while doing, she experienced the hell but when the love of her life was lying lifeless next to her, every other thing was irrelevant as she spread her arm out, gripping his with a weak clamp, “uthiye.” Her voice was a plea.

No movement.

“Please,” tears fell from her eyes, rolled down her cheeks, mixing with her blood oozing from the corner of her mouth.

As if her words reached to somewhere deep, like his soul, he moved.

Dharv let out a strangled cry. “Dad.”

His father craned his neck toward his mother, the side of his face still squeezed against the hard wheel. She cupped his face, “are you okay?”

“How’s Dharv?” He said, resting his blood soaked palm over hers. She nodded faintly.

“I am okay, Dad.” Dharv confirmed in a trembling voice, leaning forward to touch his father, “B-But you, and mom,” he couldn’t even complete as another sob tore his throat, more guttural than before.

“We are fine, little champ,” his parents said in unison, their voices muffled by the involuntary cries tumbling out of them, straight from the soul.

“N-No,” he shook his head, weeping endlessly, his face turning red due to non-stop crying, “w-we need to go to h-hos-hospital,” the last word barely formed as a sob escaped from him.

“Listen, my baby,” his mother tried to look his way but was failing miserably so he pushed himself even forward, allowing her to see his full frame, sensing her struggle.

“After you get healthy.” Dharv denied, reaching for his phone to dial an emergency contact.

His father interrupted gently, his voice strained, “please, listen, my boy. We are your parents.”

“You both are my everything,” he corrected firmly, “now let me call for help,” he started typing on the phone, his hands quivering.

“We don’t have much time, Dharv,” his father protested, “please, listen to your mom-dad bacha, just one last time. For our sake.”

“Please, don’t say like that Dad. Please,” he cried, one hand holding a phone, the other scrambling between his parents like he was trying to hold onto both of them. As if by chance, he faltered, he would lose them forever.

“P-Promise us, baby. You will- you will,” his mother gasped, her breath stuttering as she tried to voice her thoughts, “you will take care of yourself,” she pulled her hand toward him, her blood soaked fingers quivering.

Dharv immediately gripped her hand, locking it between his fingers as tight as he could as if he was afraid she would slip away.

“Why are you saying this, mom?” He demanded, his words choking as he shook his head vigorously, “you both are there for me. Why do I need to do that then?”

Panic settled deep in his bones as he was breathing heavily, his red-rimmed eyes darting from his mother to his father, tears spilling endlessly as he watched his parents struggling for each breath.

“Y-Your mom is r-right, Dharv,” his father said through clenched teeth, pushing himself slightly on his seat to look at his son, “and promise me,” he closed his eyes for a moment, a sheer attempt to bear a pain shot through his limbs, “you will fulfill your dream of becoming an IPS Officer.”

“I promise,Dad.” Dharv said hurriedly, promising his father, “I promise everything but,” his voice was reeked of desperation as if parched traveler searching for a water, “you guys won’t leave me.”

And he broke down completely.

“We will always be there with you,” his mother whispered despite her lungs ached, her body protested, “in your heart, in your prayers, at every moment you will make us proud with your achievements,” a smile curved on her lips – a painful twitch, reflecting how their life took 360 degree turn just in a flash.

“We love you, our son,” his parents whispered together, the confession echoed in the small space of a car, painted with memories and undying love of a birth giver toward their beautiful creation of love.

Gush of air drifted from the broken window of the car, brushing his parent’s bodies, making it almost impossible to figure out if it were their jagged, stalled heavy breaths or wind. But when no other sound came, no plea, no promises, not any selfless demand to their son.

It was over.

Dharv tightened his grip on his mother’s hand, clutching it firmly when it was slipping away like a sand, hoping it would make her alive, brought her back to him.

“No, no, no,” he screamed, a sound straight from his core, from the deepest corner of his body as it made his whole body tremble and for an unreal moment it felt as if the car also shook.

Sobs tore from his throat, one after another, each one more painful, more raw and more helpless than the last. He wailed.

“Mom,” he called her but met with silence only. Then he turned to his father who was holding the other hand of his mother, face smashed over the steering, body bending forward but it showed no movement.

Phone slipped from his hand, a low thud echoed with a clatter.

He reached out, shaky hand pressed over his father’s shoulder, jerking him firmly, “Dad, open your eyes, please, dad,” he begged.

But the same haunting silence his mother gave, amplifying the burn in his whole skin – the burn to lose his dears. He kept calling, yelling, even pinching them softly but nothing worked. Why would it be?

Lives gone forever never come back, they just leave their essence, their memories and somewhere presence in heart to make sure they are never forgotten.

 Wailing. Sobbing. Pleading. Even prayers. Nothing made his parents talked to him.

 Finally, his vision blurred, lashes fluttered franticly and went unconscious.

Dharv was pulled back from the soul-ripping incident of his life, which made him lifeless, a body living just to breath, by the sharp, alarming ringtone of his phone.

It buzzed twice before he picked it up, swiping to answer, a sigh escaped him.

His fingers quivered once, violently, his phone almost slipped from his hand but he caught it in time, clutching tightly as he pressed it to his ear, “yes, what’s the report?” His voice was sharp but fragile at the edges, the wounds still fresh.

“Good morning, sir.” A greeting floated from the other end of line was ignored by him as he shut his eyes, letting those dreadful memories creep deep where they emerged from, his palms curled into fists.

Voice from the other end was hesitant yet firm, “sir, he had transferred huge amount to few officers. So, no evidences and those who had would destroy them,” he seethed, his frustration evident but his voice never rose, “and now, he believes, he is untouched.”

Dharv rubbed his hand over the side of his neck, leaning back against the wooden chair, “let him believe that,” his smirk beamed under the sunlight falling on every corner of roof-top café.

He disconnected the call without waiting for a response, his dark, lifeless eyes scanning the secluded place of the highway, his mind was on little ease being away from the city, from the cases waiting for him in the police-station.

Whenever he felt things went hard on him, the life was testing even when he was already defeated from within, when the noise of the town began eating him alive, the air this secluded place near the highway made it bearable for him.

Finishing the black coffee in his cup, he called the waiter, paid him and left the place not before adjusting the collars of his white shirt. He wore the sunglasses and drove his car back to the city.

WINGS ORPHANAGE

A girl of around seven years, draped in a floral cotton frock that fell till her knees, two ponytails bouncing as she walked, slightly tripping but gathering herself before hit the ground, her each step spoke of excitement, the thrill glimmering in her gaze as she approached an ice-cream stall, fisting a twenty rupee note in her tiny, soft hands.

Every second, she adjusted the chain of her small purse on her shoulder, dangling near her waist. Her frock swirled as the air hit her, brushing the soft fabric of her outfit.

“Bhaiya, give one ice-cream please,” she murmured enthusiastically, her voice polite as she showed him her note in the air, telling him she can bought for herself. The vendor let out a chuckle at her antics, already turning to prepare a cone for her.

Being a clumsy little child, she swayed her body in her place, twisting the note paper between her fingers, examining it like some bank manager. But her playfulness didn’t last long as a strong, heavy gush of wind brushed past her, taking the note away as it slipped from the weak hold of her tiny palms.

Her eyes widened, she gasped, hurriedly chasing the note as if her life dependent on it. The note was floating with air and she was running after it.

For once, her fingers brushed it but before she could fully grab it, the note deceived her as it flew away from her grasp with an air.

She clenched her teeth in frustration, running after it, not giving up.

Near the entrance of the amusement park, the note finally relaxed and she was able to catch it, her lips curved into a triumphant smile, her eyes shimmering with that small victory as she jumped on her spot.

She whipped around after her little celebration, moving back to the ice-cream vendor but murmurs reaching her ears stopped dead in her tracks. They were muffled, gravel and sinister that made her look for the source in curiosity, stilling her in her place.

She alertly listened to those voices, spinning her head here and there, and finally her wandering gaze halted on a man and a lady standing few distance away, engrossed on a phone call put over a speaker.

She took two steps forward to hear clearly, watching the restlessness over their faces, the sharp and furtive expressions on their faces made her gulp hard. Her every instinct screamed her to move away, but she didn’t, kept rooted to her place, hearing their heinous talks.

“Do whatever you want,” the man snarled, poison dripping from his voice, “they shouldn’t be saved. Make sure. They face death.”

The intensity and the words from his tongue chilled her body as she began tremble like a dried leaf, her feet froze, refused to move.

“And it should look like an accident,” the woman added in a menacing tone, “not a planned murder.”

The girl’s hand rose, clamping over her parted lips, covering her mouth in a pure shock, her eyes popped out of her sockets, pulse roared in her ears. She stood motionless, face pale, her gaze stuck on those two persons who just ordered about commit a murder like it was a game.

She took a step back, ready to escape but her skin crawled when the woman caught her with wide, furious eyes, sending a shiver down her spine. Her terrified, sulphur color face gave it away, confirming to that woman she heard everything.

Both the person’s faces lost their color. They looked at the girl like she was the culprit not them who were just casually saying over a call to, God know, whom? to kill someone.

The girl spun on her heels,  pushed through the people moving and disappeared into the crowd. Without another thought, they both began chasing her.

As that girl ran, her limbs threatened to give out, her breathing turned heavy, she stumbled with crowd, earning sharp remarks but they were nothing in front of the dead she saw in those eyes.

The couple began searching her, parting in two ways, looking around the shops, rides, even asking people but failing, resulting in cursing each other and that tiny soul on their way, to let her escape.

She hid near one of the stall, a small shop but enough to conceal her from the world. She pressed her knees close to her chest, hugging herself tightly as if that could hide from whatever she witnessed.

Fear shook her body. Her stomach churned as their conversation played repeatedly in her mind. Mentally scolding herself for listening to their talks, she cried uncontrollably, tears streaking the path down her cheeks.

Her throat ached, her arms fell into her sides as she felt the every ounce of energy draining out of her body.

Within few seconds, darkness spread in front of her vision, her lids fell shut. She went unconscious.

Shivangi jolted awake.

The nightmare, so lively, like a flashback of her life, made her breath caught in her throat.

Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her eyes closed in panic. The early morning sunlight slipping from the window gleamed her forehead glistening with a sweat beads. She pressed her palm over heart, willing to steady her racing heartbeat.

It had been years to that incident but still it haunt her every night, through the nightmare, an alarm.

Rubbing her chest harshly over her night suit’s fabric, she tried to calm herself. She drew sharp exhales to normal her ragged breaths, and filed out of the bed when she started feeling better.

Shivangi slipped her feet into her slippers, walked to the bathroom, shutting the door to cease the dreadful memories with a forceful thud.

She turned on the shower, took a warm bath, the water helped her to calm her senses and when she was sure, they were gone for a day, she stepped out.

After done with her morning routine, she draped her herself into a light pink kurta, tucked her dupatta over her shoulder, letting it sway with a gentle morning breeze. She stared a long at the mirror, her hands once halting mid- style of her hair but she shook her head and somehow made herself presentable.

She dabbed a lipstick on her lips, applied kohl in her eyes effortlessly and left open her hair, letting them flow over her shoulders and back like a silk.

One last glance at the mirror, smoothening the invisible crease on her dress, she tucked a hair behind her ear and walked toward a bed, sucking a deep breath.

Picking her phone from the bed side table, she opened and scrolled absently. Just then, a notification popped on her screen made her eyes stuck on her phone. She tapped and opened it hurriedly to read the message, her pulse fluttered with each word she murmured to herself.

The message on the screen beamed her smile wider as she read again :

Hi, miss. Shivangi, we are elated to inform you that you are being selected for an interview.

Tears blurred her vision, drops of  a happy cry, the joy of being selected for an interview in one of the most desirable companies across the cities, render her momentarily speechless.

She rubbed her arms to prevent the goosebumps arising on her skin and stormed toward the hall of the Orphanage, approaching the other members of that small house where everyone cared each other more than real family, eager to share the news.

Her footsteps echoed through the walls.  

On the dining table, everyone was seated together for a morning breakfast. At the head chair, the owner of that orphanage, DHANRAJ SINGH, was perched in a Armani suit. His gaze fell on Shivangi, who was practically running and huffing.

“What happened, beta?” He asked, his tone laced with amusement, as she tip-toed near the dining area. All the heads turned towards her, noticing a warm glow on her face.

“Yes, didi. You look happy,” one boy from the gathering chimed in, his voice filled with curiosity.

Shivangi took a deep breath and spilled it all, “I got an appointment letter from a company I was trying for last ten months,” her excitement unmistakable, the shimmer in her eyes could lighten the dark rooms.

“Really, didi,” some girl sitting near her looked up, flashing her a toothy smile though she completely didn’t  understand what that meant.

“Yes, my gudiya.” Shivangi cupped her cheek, followed by the light playful tap.

“Yeah !!!” Everyone screamed in unison, their voices filled the whole house, the cheerful energy made Shivangi’s heart swell as she smiled whole-heartedly.

Dhanraj looked at her a second long, a proud smile dancing on his lips as he stood up and kept his palm over her head, “proud of you, beta,” he said earnestly.

“Thank you, uncle.” Shivangi smiled back, her heart warming at the gesture.

“Daughters shouldn’t say thank you to their fathers,” he prompted, pulling his hand back and waging a finger, “and call me baba. Not this uncle.”

“I will try.” Shivangi chuckled lightly, the sound vibrating from her chest and turned to grab her hand-bag and files.

After few minutes, she returned to the entrance with her belongings and found everyone waiting for her, probably  to wish her good luck.

She crossed the threshold and heard voices behind her, “all the best, didi,” the group sounded more excited than she was.

She spun, tossed them a flying kiss, shook her head when they pretend to catch it and hit the main road, leaving the orphanage behind.

Flailing her hand to stop a Rickshaw, she muttered the address of the office and left for her interview.

The moment her gaze landed on the tall glass building in front of her, her mouth fell open, an expression a blend of amusement, flabbergast and admiration.

The office stood tall, proudly like a tower, the glassy windows gleaming as rays fell on them. It was huge, more than she expected, and definitely more than she saw over her phone in the pictures.

Suddenly, her palms turned clammy as nervousness clawed her, and taking a deep breath, she entered the office.

Shivangi found a reception and approach the receptionist, explaining her the reason of her arrival.

After cross-checking everything on the laptop, the receptionist confirmed her interview with a genuine yet professional smile.

Shivangi smiled nervously.

“Interviews are being conducted on the fourth floor. Elevator that way.”

Shivangi thanked the receptionist heartly and stepped into the elevator. Her pulse pounded in her ears as she crossed the narrow corridor surrounded by glass walls, each step more tight than last.

After seeing many candidates like her waiting outside the interview room for their turn, her anxiety took another flight. All seemed well qualified.

Quietly, she walked and took a seat next to them.

Her named announced after what like an eternity to her and running a hand over her dress, she held her purse tightly as if gaining a semblance of control, she straightened herself and walked in.

Greeting the interview panel, she took her place and the interview began. She answered confidently, explaining all the pros and cons, her tone light, professionalism radiating from her body language. At few points, she stuck but she handled them gracefully.

As the interview came to an end, she was informed to wait till the results are out and names would be announced.

She went back and joined the other candidates, standing at the corner and silently waited for the result.

Evening stroked, painting the sky in pink and orange hue.

The manager arrived and began telling the results. Few faces fell and few jumped in excitement and few blamed the questions for their poor performance who couldn’t crack up.

Shivangi waited for her name patiently, internally praying for a job, her thoughts filled with uncertainity.

Her name was announced in a selection list.

Shivangi’s  happiness knew no limits. No bounds as she was two seconds away from jumping like a monkey and embarrass herself but being herself, not able to contain her happiness, she waved her hands in air slightly, dancing on her selection.

All the selected candidates were informed to collect their joining letters from the reception. After completing all the formalities, she walked out of her new office.

An idea popped in her mind.

Instead of calling everyone in the orphanage, she decided to bought sweets and chocolates for them, to surprise them and see the happiness on their faces herself.

Reaching the market, she went into a shop, bought some sweets, cupcakes, muffins and chocolates for the kids and stepped out, paying the bills, carrying the boxes in her hands.

The night had crept in, enveloping the city in darkness, only streetlights flickered.

She checked the time and realized, it was late, she needed to reach as soon as possible and began searching for a rickshaw or taxi but no one stopped.

After many unsuccessful attempts, she walked a little.

Down the lane, she twisted with her dupatta, desperate to find any vehicle.

She glanced at her phone, the battery was dead and found another reason to slap herself mentally as she didn’t charge her phone in haste and now, everyone would be concerned about her safety because she couldn’t inform them about her whereabouts.

As she moved further, she heard noises, loud and disgusting.

Few men were leaning against the wall, murmuring and laughing over the absurd jokes in their drunken, slurry voices.

Nausea hit her sharply, her breath hitched as the voices grew louder. She fastened her pace, walking briskly to escape from their predatory gazes.

But the men watched her.

Disgust climbed her skin as they tossed wicked smiles and lame, derogatory comments on her way, resulting in buckling of her knees due to fear.

Terror gnawed at her when she found them chasing her.

She hurried, and steps grew sharper. Smirks formed on their mouth like they had already decided her fate. Bastards. As she ran, hollow chuckles with a thud of footsteps followed her.

Her mind went blank, fear gripped her neck, choking her breath with the tears rolling down her skin. Her ears rang. Limbs shivered.

The purse slipped from her hands, falling onto the ground, but she didn’t even peek at it, just kept running, for her dignity, her life. The boxes of sweets and cookies lay abandoned somewhere on the street, becoming a food of dogs and animals.

At that time, her body seemed to collapse, her life on a stake and she was fighting a battle to protect both.

In the haste to escape, she didn’t realize when she began running in the middle of the crowded road and got hit by a car.

Smashed.