Ever since Arjun had heard about the sudden disappearance of that family—a vanishing so complete that even their closest neighbours had no inkling of it—he had been left stunned and speechless.
His head spun as a whirlwind of thoughts engulfed him. A broken whisper finally escaped his lips:"Conspiracy upon conspiracy… What did I ever do to them?
What wrong had I committed?"
Sudhanshu continued, his voice steady yet heavy with revelation. "They didn't even spare the neighbours. They had borrowed hefty sums of money from them as well, and no one had the slightest suspicion that they were planning to flee. They must have slipped away under the cover of night, taking advantage of the darkness and silence. They had rented that house just seven months ago, paying three months' advance as security. But for the last two months, they hadn't paid a single rupee of rent.
The long-time residents of the locality had never seen them before they appeared here. No one knew where they had come from, and now no one knows where they have vanished to. Not a single soul noticed them leaving, even though they must have crept out quietly in the dead of night, carrying their belongings with them."
Suyash remarked gravely, "One thing is crystal clear in this entire episode—the whole thing was executed with meticulous planning."
Sudhanshu nodded. "I went to the local police station and filed a written complaint about their disappearance. Strangely enough, even the landlord only learned about their vanishing today. He was lamenting the loss of two months' rent. The police, too, had no prior information about their departure. Till now, there has been no trace of them anywhere. It was because I had to go to the police station to lodge this complaint that I got delayed for court. The officers there detained me from yesterday evening until this afternoon for their formalities, which is why I couldn't reach the courtroom on time."
Listening to all this, Arjun's grievances and complaints seemed to dissolve. Yet he could not stop himself from asking, "In all these past few months… did you never once think of me?
I was once your closest friend—your brother. Did you also start believing me guilty, like everyone else?"
Sudhanshu stepped forward and pulled Arjun into a warm embrace. "Don't bombard me with so many questions at once, my brother. We never had even the slightest doubt about your innocence. Forgive me. I have always had complete faith in you. I am a government servant, and I was caught up in some additional workload on an important departmental project. Then, to make matters worse, I suffered a fracture in my right leg and couldn't go to work for two full months. We hid this from you because we didn't want you to worry while you were already going through so much."
Arjun glanced at Ranjana, who nodded in confirmation, her eyes moist. "Bhaiya, you were enduring such immense pain and hardship. Compared to the wound you carried, ours was nothing."
A faint smile touched Arjun's lips as he said, "Even in jail, one finds good people. There I met Madhav Kaka, whom I will remain grateful to for the rest of my life. He was the greatest support I had inside those walls. Had it not been for him, perhaps I would not be standing here before you all today. I have become his lifelong debtor. The values and wise counsel he imparted kept the human being and humanity alive within me.
It is because of people like him that faith in this world still survives."Taking permission from Madhav Kaka, Arjun broke down like a child. In the last two or three months, a deep spiritual bond had formed between them—one stronger than he had ever felt even with his own father.
Yet once again, Arjun felt utterly robbed. The same hollow emptiness that had flooded his life after his father's death now surged back within him. There were unspoken pains and tangled emotions he had never been able to share with anyone before Madhav Kaka.
His mind drifted to the day his father had passed away. That morning, Arjun had not been at home. He had left at eight o'clock in search of a job. With the help of a friend, he was going for his very first interview at a private company. Since it was his first interview, he had been quite nervous. The moment he reached the office, he had switched off his phone.
Nearly twenty-five calls had come from his mother and sister, but the interview went on for a long time. Afterwards, he remained busy understanding the work, so he never once checked his phone. When he finally got a moment of respite and opened it, the news he had been dreading for months was waiting for him. What hurt the most was that he could not answer their calls when they needed him the most—he could not even listen to their final call. By the time he picked up around five in the evening, it was already too late. When he reached home, preparations for the last rites were already underway.
All the way home that day, his mind had been restless, filled with unbearable pain and haunted by hundreds of dark thoughts.
Later, while checking his call log, he saw that his father had also called him. But that morning, in his hurry to leave, he had not spoken to him properly.
And after that, he never got the chance to speak to him again. If only he had called home once…He had always thought there would be time—that when things settled, he would sit properly with his father, talk to him, and take care of him.
But life had been tangled in a thousand complications. Responsibilities had chained his feet, and he never found the leisure he kept promising himself.
His mother would often say, "Sit with your father for a while. Talk to him. He wants to speak with you."And he would reply, "I'll do it later…"Then came the endless rounds of hospitals and medicines. He was always rushing out for one errand or another. The weight of duties had left him no free moment.
When there was time, he never realised its value. Now, all that remains is realisation—and that aching void which can never be filled again.
Arjun's last conversation with his father had left behind a lingering friction, yet the love between them had been boundless—deep, profound, and forever unspoken. In the final days of his illness, weakened by disease and chemotherapy,
Papa had grown increasingly irritable. He would often burst into sudden shouts and screams without any apparent reason. The toll of his condition had left a heavy mark on his mind and mood.
He had once told Arjun's mother, "I am proud of him, but I never managed to say it to his face."Now those words echoed in Arjun's every breath and heartbeat, haunting him with their quiet weight.
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