A memory:
A younger version of Arjun,maybe six or seven,sat on the floor eating rosogolla. Just then, a high-pitched giggle echoed through the hallway.
"Akch!" A tiny voice called, full of excitement.
Akshaj turned his head, only to see three-year-old Srinija toddling toward him, her tiny hands tightly clutching a clay cup of mishti doi. Her chubby cheeks were dusted with flour-probably from sneaking into the kitchen earlier-and her small legs moved in wobbly steps, the oversized frock she wore nearly swallowing her whole.
"Akch! Baba dia!" (Baba gave it!) she announced proudly, holding up the cup.
Akshaj wrinkled his nose. "Mera naam Akch nahi, Akshaj hai!" (My name is not Akch, it's Akshaj!)
Srinija, completely ignoring his protest, plopped down beside him, scooping a big spoonful of mishti doi into her mouth. Her round eyes sparkled with joy as she hummed in delight.
Akshaj smirked. "Pura khatam kar diya tab dikhane ayi?" (You ate most of it, and now you're showing me?)
Srinija shook her head so hard that her curls bounced. "Naaa! Dhekho! Hai!" (Nooo! Look! Some is left!)
She eagerly leaned forward to show him, but in her excitement, her tiny foot got caught in the hem of her frock.
"Aaaa!" she squeaked as she stumbled forward.
The clay cup wobbled in her grip, and before Akshaj could react, it slipped from her hands-splat!-spilling the last bit of doi onto the floor.
Srinija froze. Her big, round eyes darted between the mess and Akshaj. Then, her lips trembled.
"Uuuuuuhhhh..." Her face crumpled.
Oh no. She was about to cry.
Akshaj panicked. "Kuch nahi hua!" (Nothing happened!) he blurted out, waving his hands. "Doi gir gaya toh kya? Dusra mil jayega!" (So what if the doi fell? You'll get another one!)
Srinija sniffled. "Baba dabegaa..." (Baba will scold me...)
Thinking fast, Akshaj did the only thing he could-he grabbed the last bite of his rosogolla from the plate beside him and held it out to her.
"Yeh le, mera wala." (Here, take mine.)
Srinija peeked at the sweet, her lips still quivering. "Sotti?" (Really?)
Akshaj nodded. "Haan, le lo." (Yes, take it.)
Without hesitation, she grabbed the rosogolla with her sticky fingers and shoved it into her mouth in one go. Her cheeks puffed up like a squirrel's, and as she chewed, a delighted hum escaped her.
"Mmmm!" she mumbled, licking her fingers. Then, in her tiny, mispronounced voice, she declared-
"Akch good!"
Akshaj smirked, crossing his arms. "Pata hai." (I know.)
The memory faded, snapping him back to the present.
Srinija was looking at him strangely. "Are you going to let go, or are we just going to stand like this?"
Akshaj blinked, realizing he was still holding her wrist. He let go immediately, shoving his hands into his pockets.
Srinija stepped back, still eyeing him suspiciously. "You didn't answer my question."
He smirked, covering up the lingering effect of the memory. "Which one?"
"How do you know my name?"
He exhaled as if debating how to respond. Then, with a straight face, he said, "Everyone in this village knows about the Roy family, right?"
She blinked. "What kind of excuse is that?"
He shrugged, looking back at the water. "A good one."
Srinija stared at him, trying to decide whether he was messing with her or if he actually wasn't going to tell her. The amusement in his eyes gave her the answer.
"You're impossible," she muttered, shaking her head.
He smirked. "You'll survive."
For a brief moment, silence settled between them. But it wasn't awkward. If anything, it felt like something was unfolding-something neither of them fully understood yet.
After a moment, she exhaled and spoke again. "Anyway, uh... thanks."
Akshaj glanced at her. "For?"
"For the other day. The tyre." She looked away briefly before meeting his gaze again. "You didn't have to help, but you did."
He studied her for a second, as if trying to figure out whether she was uncomfortable giving thanks or if it was just something she wasn't used to doing.
"You're welcome," he said simply. Then, with a teasing glint in his eyes, he added, "I mean, watching you struggle was entertaining, but I figured I should step in before you completely gave up."
Srinija's moment of sincerity vanished instantly. She shot him a glare. "I wasn't going to give up!"
"Oh? Looked like it to me."
She groaned. "You're ridiculous."
Akshaj chuckled. "You're still here, though."
She opened her mouth to reply but then paused. He wasn't wrong. She should have left by now, but she hadn't. Srinija found herself watching him, noticing details she hadn't before. The way he looked at the water like it held answers. The quiet confidence he carried, so different from the teasing smirk he wore that day.
Instead of arguing, she simply rolled her eyes. "Well, I should go before you mistake this for bonding."
Akshaj let out a low laugh. "Wouldn't dream of it."
As she took a step back, she called over her shoulder, "Maybe next time, you'll actually catch something."
She turned and started walking away, and he did the same in the opposite direction. The conversation was over-or so he thought.
Suddenly, she stopped and called out, "Wait."
He paused, a smirk already forming as he glanced over his shoulder.
Srinija crossed her arms. "You never told me your name."
Akshaj turned fully this time, taking a slow step backward. His smirk deepened, eyes glinting with mischief. "And here I thought you liked mysteries."
She rolled her eyes. "So, no name?"
He put a hand over his chest as if offended. A slow smirk crept onto his face. He turned slightly, his eyes holding a glint of mischief. "If I tell you everything in our second meeting, what will be the fun in meeting again?
Srinija blinked, caught off guard for a second before scoffing. "Wow. That was-"
"Charming? Irresistible?" He tilted his head. "I get that a lot."
She let out an exaggerated groan. "Annoying. That's the word I was looking for."
Akshaj grinned. "Good. It means you'll remember me."
With that, he turned and walked away, leaving Srinija staring after him, shaking her head.
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The dim glow of the bedside lamp flickered as Rishabh leaned back in his chair, scrolling through his phone mindlessly. The house was quiet, except for the occasional rustling of leaves outside the window.
Then, he heard it-a soft, muffled exhale, almost like a stifled groan.
His gaze shifted toward the bed. His mother lay on her side, eyes closed, her breathing steady but not entirely normal. He noticed the slight tension in her expression, the way her fingers curled tightly around the edge of the blanket.
Pain.
Rishabh frowned. "Maa."
She didn't respond.
He stood up, crossing the room in a few strides. "You're not sleeping."
This time, she opened her eyes, forcing a small smile. "I am."
"Lies don't work on me," Rishabh said flatly.
His mother let out a soft chuckle. "It's nothing. Just a little pain. I'll be fine."
His jaw clenched. He hated when she did this-pretended to be fine when she clearly wasn't. He glanced toward the small wooden cabinet where she usually kept her medicines. His eyes landed on the empty strip of tablets.
No medicine.
Of course.
He didn't ask any more questions. Instead, he turned and grabbed his keys. "I'll be back."
His mother's voice followed him as he walked out. "Rishabh, it's nothing. You don't have to-"
But he was already grabbing his keys.
The village medicine store was a 20-25-minute walk away. He didn't have the patience for that. Within seconds, he was in his jeep, the engine roaring to life.
His fingers drummed impatiently on the steering wheel.
He wasn't the type to panic, but his mother being in pain-even if she tried to hide it-made his irritation simmer just beneath the surface.
Then-
"Tch."
Rishabh's foot pressed against the brake as his jeep came to a sudden halt.
Right in front of him, an old wooden vegetable cart was sprawled across the narrow road, half-tilted to one side. A few potatoes had rolled onto the dusty ground.
And crouched beside it-
The same woman ..
She was struggling with the cart, gripping the loose wheel with an unnecessary amount of determination. The vendor-an elderly man with frail hands-stood beside her, watching her efforts with an expression that was equal parts gratitude and doubt.
Akshara muttered something under her breath, pushing against the cart as if sheer willpower would fix the problem.
"Bas thoda aur," she encouraged herself. "I think if we just move it like this-"
Creak. Snap.
The wheel shifted further, and the entire cart lurched dangerously.
Akshara flinched. "Oh... um... that wasn't supposed to happen."
Rishabh sighed, running a hand down his face. This was ridiculous.
Without bothering to honk or say anything, he shoved the door open and stepped out.
"Move."
Akshara turned at the sound of his voice, already knowing who it was before she even saw him.
Rishabh.
With one sharp motion, he grabbed the loose wheel, his fingers pressing against the worn-out wood.
Unlike Akshara's fumbling attempts, his movements were sure, precise. A few strong twists, a couple of calculated adjustments-
And just like that, the cart was stable again.
The old vendor blinked. "Arre beta, you-"
Rishabh didn't let him finish. "You still use this broken cart?" His voice was laced with irritation.
The vendor hesitated. "It usually works fine..."
"Yeah?" Rishabh scoffed. "And what happens when it doesn't? Atleast repair it "
Silence.
Then the vendor said, ''I will when i have enough money "
Rishabh exhaled, clearly annoyed. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a few notes, and shoved them onto the cart. Not gently-just enough to make it look like an afterthought.
"Get a new wheel," he muttered. "Or don't. I don't care."
The old man's eyes widened. "Beta, this is too much
"It's not for free," Rishabh snapped. "Consider it an investment so I don't have to waste my time fixing your cart again."
The vendor looked at him, a strange mix of surprise and gratitude in his tired eyes. "Still, thank you-"
Rishabh ignored him. He turned away, his expression unreadable.
Akshara exhaled, dusting off her hands as she watched Rishabh walk back toward his jeep.
"That was rude."
Rishabh halted for a second, then turned his head slightly. His expression remained impassive, but there was something sharp in his gaze. "What?"
She folded her arms, tilting her head. "I said, that was rude. The way you just tossed money like that, as if it was some petty inconvenience."
Rishabh blinked once, then scoffed. "Would you prefer I had sprinkled some flower petals on it first?"
Akshara gave him a look." no, I would have preferred if you acted like a normal human being with emotions."
Rishabh barely spared her a glance , "I don't care. why are you so invested in this?"
She tapped a finger on her chin, pretending to think. "Because I'm confused. I'm trying to figure out whether you're..
Rishabh exhaled through his nose. "Let me make this easy for you-l didn't do it for him. I did it so 1 wouldn't have to deal with this nonsense again."
Akshara raised an eyebrow. "So, what you're saying is... you don't help people. You just eliminate future inconveniences?"
"Exactly."
She clicked her tongue. "Hmm. So if I ever need help, I just have to make sure it somehow disrupts your life?"
His eyes narrowed. "You wouldn't dare."
Her grin widened. "Oh, but now I'm tempted."
Rishabh muttered something under his breath, shaking his head as he turned toward his jeep.
Akshara smirked, watching him go. But as he opened the door, her smile faded slightly.
He had helped-fixed the cart first, then thrown money at it.
So, was he a good man hiding behind rudeness? Or just someone who was a spoiled brat?
She wasn't sure.
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Rishabh stepped onto the veranda, a small paper bag in his hand containing his mother's medicine. Just as he reached for the door, he noticed Srinija standing there, waiting.
She turned at the sound of his footsteps. "Rishabh, I was looking for you."
He raised an eyebrow while unlocking the door. "For me?"
She shook her head. "No, actually, Shekhar Kaka asked me to come. He said he had something important to tell me."
Rishabh's casual stance shifted slightly. His father rarely summoned someone without reason. With a nod, he gestured inside. "Then let's not keep him waiting."
Inside the Drawing Room:
The room carried an air of quiet authority, much like Shekhar himself. He sat in his usual chair, a bundle of papers and an old diary resting beside him. The dim evening light cast long shadows, making the moment feel heavier.
As Srinija and Rishabh took their seats, Shekhar picked up the papers and the diary, handing them to her.
"This," he said, his voice steady yet laced with meaning, "holds the details of what your father was owed."
Srinija hesitated before taking them. Her fingers brushed against the aged leather cover, the familiar scent of old paper filling her senses. She flipped through the pages, skimming the delicate yet firm handwriting of her father. Then, a name caught her attention-
Nirmal Acharya.
Her nose scrunched involuntarily. The name wasn't unfamiliar. In fact, it brought back memories of her father's endless conversations. She remembered sitting beside him, sipping chai, while he spoke fondly of a certain Acharya family-how much he admired them, how deeply he cared about them.
Srinija let out a quiet breath. "I know this name."
Shekhar watched her reaction carefully. "I figured you might."
She ran her fingers over the inked letters, lost in thought. "My father used to talk about Nirmal Kaka all the time. He cared about him and his family a lot... He always believed the Acharyas would change their fortunes one day."
She let out a small, humorless chuckle. "Sometimes, I don't even know why he talked about them so much."
Rishabh, who had been listening quietly, glanced at her. "And what did you think of him?"
Srinija exhaled, leaning back. "I met them in my childhood, so I don't have many memories of them. I just heard his name countless times in conversations I didn't really care about back then. To me, he was just a distant part of my father's world." She looked back at Shekhar. "But why are you bringing him up now?"
Shekhar leaned forward, his voice turning more serious. "Because Nirmal Acharya took a huge loan-half from me, half from your father. It wasn't just a casual borrowing. It was a contract. If he failed to return the money within nine years, his house would legally belong to both of us."
Srinija's fingers tightened around the diary. "And?"
Shekhar met her gaze. "Nirmal is no longer alive, beta. And the loan was never repaid."
A silence settled over the room, thick with implications. Srinija felt a strange unease creep into her bones. Her father was never one to care about money. If he had given someone a loan, it meant he had trusted them with his whole heart.
She swallowed, forcing herself to sound light. "Maybe his children will return the money. Let's wait a little longer... give them some time. He left behind two children-Akshaj and Akshara."
Srinija's head snapped up. "Akshaj... Acharya?"
Shekhar nodded.
He let out a small scoff, shaking his head. "You know, beta, some men are given everything, and yet, they let it slip right through their fingers. Akshaj Acharya is one of them."
Srinija frowned. "What do you mean?"
Shekhar leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers against the wooden armrest. "He was supposed to bring his family back to its former glory. A doctor, a man of intelligence-but what did he do? Wasted it. Lost his medical license after being accused of trying to kill a patient."
Srinija, on the other hand, felt an uneasiness creeping into her thoughts. She had heard whispers, of course. Conversations in hushed tones about Akshaj Acharya's downfall. But she never really paid attention to rumors.
Shekhar sighed, shaking his head. "So, waiting is easy, beta. But sometimes, waiting doesn't change the truth."
Srinija didn't reply immediately. She knew Shekhar was right. Business didn't run on emotions. And yet, something inside her refused to accept that things had to be this way.
She ran her fingers over the name again-Nirmal Acharya.
What had really happened to him? And what about the people he left behind?
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