Honour

“I found you.”

“You shouldn’t have.”

He turned his eyes away, but didn’t move from his place.

“Don’t say that! I wanted to see you,” I pled, trying to catch his eye.

“Why?”

“Because... just because,” I sighed. There was nothing more I could say.

“I get it. You wanted to see if I was dead or alive. Well, I am alive. Happy? Now leave.” He started to get up from the table when I clamped down on his hand and held it there.

“Stop, alright? You forget; I helped you. I was the one who saved...” I checked myself. I suddenly became aware of the pressure I was putting on his wrist. It must hurt. I withdrew my hand.

“Sorry...” I mumbled as Rudhir rubbed his wrist.

“No,” he replied, his mouth taut, “I’m sorry... I was... forget it. So, how are you?”

He asked as if he didn’t care about the answer. Maybe he didn’t. He actually didn’t.

“You’ve grown so thin... you are just skin and bones... are you not eating properly? Your eyes... when was the last time you slept?”

He shifted in his seat uncomfortably.

“I’m fine, father. I had exams and... Aashu doesn’t sleep easily.”

“He is restless,” I observed.

Rudhir nodded, staring at the table.

But his eyes softened when Aashu wrapped his tiny fingers around his. He peered through his glasses lovingly and smiled when the child pulled at his tie. He twirled the metal batch on his chest. It was shiny and the child cackled with amusement. It was music to my ears.

He likes shiny things. Much like Rudhir when he was Aashu’s age.

 I just sat there, watching them. I was ... enchanted.

“He has grown so big,” I exclaimed quietly, “He is beautiful!”

Rudhir nodded, “Yes he is. He looks like her.”

I sat up straight, and ran my fingers over my mouth.

“He misses her,” he continued, “we both do.”

I felt my stomach lurch. I didn’t reply.

“How is mother?”

“She misses you.”

“Good.”

I watched the child... my grandson... play with the tie for a while.

“Where does Aashu stay when you are in class?”

“They have a crèche here. It’s for staff but they made an exception for me.”

I nodded and watched my grandson, who now sat on his father’s lap tracing a tattoo on his forearm. Aashu’s father. I barely recognise him as my son anymore.

“Son, you are too young to be doing this alone. It’s been two years! You have been attending classes, working part-time and raising your son. Let us help you! You don’t have to do this alone. You are almost a child yourself for God sake!”

“No. I will raise him alone. And you have helped enough. I don’t need anymore,” Rudhir replied quickly, wrapping his son in his arms, as if afraid I would take him away.

I sighed and got up.

“I know you still blame me, son. But there was nothing I could do. She was too young. You both were...”

The baby had been born. It was boy.I had a grandson. The other doctors and nurses had left. It was just me now. The girl was critical but stable. I stood staring at her for a long time. So young. Very pretty. No wonder my son loved her. But they were young and stupid. What did they know of life? Had they known the way the world works, they would have known this would never be. Rudhir was only 20. Too young to know right from wrong.

Rudhir kissed the child and held him closer, tears silently rolling down his cheeks.

“... Giving birth at only 17 is risky for the mother. Her body was too weak to survive it. I did everything in my power to save her.”

He nodded. Aashu looked up at his father and touched his tear-streaked cheek with his tiny hand. Rudhir quickly checked himself, wiped his face and smiled at his child. The child giggled back, his attention now taken by Rudhir’s shiny glasses.

We were Rajputs. I had to protect our honour. Had she been of higher birth... even slightly respectable... maybe if she wasn’t an orphan...?

 With steady hands, I picked up the empty syringe and injected air bubbles into her IV channel. In her weakened state, an air embolus would be enough.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

“You are a good father,” I observed, my voice heavy. Rudhir tickled Aashu. The child giggled hysterically, the tears sliding down his father’s cheek forgotten.

“You will always do what’s best for him,” I said.

That’s what fathers do. That’s what I did.

“I hope Aashu thinks so too,” Rudhir replied, quietly.

I started walking away.

“Thank you”.

I turned. “For what?”

“For saving my son,” Rudhir said.

I smiled, waved a small goodbye and resumed walking. I felt my sight blur with tears.

My heart jumped with a start. She was awake and staring back at me. There were tears streaming from her eyes.

“I have to protect him. Our family. You have to understand. I wish it didn’t have to be like this... I’m sorry,” I whispered, pleading.

“Please don’t kill my child,” she whispered back, closing her eyes.
  She never opened them again.