09-08-2026, 12:30 PM
I didn’t follow them immediately.
For a few minutes I remained at the dining table, staring at the empty cups and the crumbs on the plates. Chacha had gone out toward the courtyard again, probably to smoke. Taai was in the kitchen, talking to someone on the phone about the anniversary catering. Papa had taken his tea into the living room and switched on the television at a low volume.
The house felt ordinary again.
Except for the closed study door at the end of the hallway.
I waited until the sounds from the kitchen became steady, then stood up and walked quietly in that direction. I didn’t go all the way to the door. I stopped a few steps short, near the tall wooden cupboard that held the old winter blankets. From there, I could hear voices if they weren’t kept too low.
At first there was only the soft rustle of paper.
Taau’s voice came first, mild and practical.
“Yeh wala album 1998 ka hai. Shaadi ke do saal baad ka. Tumhe yaad hoga… woh red saree.”
Maa’s reply was quiet.
“Haan. Yaad hai.”
More pages turned. A small pause.
“Yeh photograph thodi kharab ho gayi hai,” Taau said. “Corner se fold ho rakhi thi. Dekho.”
Silence. Then Maa gave a quiet, distracted, “Hmm.”
The way she said it was careful. The same carefulness she had carried since morning.
Taau continued in the same even tone.
“Tum logon ke aane se pehle main soch raha tha… purane din kaafi simple the. Kam log, kam baatein. Ab ghar mein itna kuch chalta rehta hai.”
I felt my shoulders tighten.
Maa didn’t answer immediately. When she did, her voice was steady.
“Ghar bada ho gaya hai, Taau ji. Log bhi badal jaate hain.”
“Haan.” A pause. “Log badal jaate hain.”
Another page turned. Then the album seemed to close.
Taau’s voice became quieter.
“Kal raat main der se aaya tha. Bahar kuch kaam tha.”
Maa said nothing.
“Jab andar aaya, toh guest room ka door thoda khula hua tha.”
My mouth went dry.
Taau continued.
“Main bas dekhne gaya tha ki sab theek hai ya nahi.”
There was a long silence.
“Roshni kam thi,” he said. “Lekin jitna dekha… uske baad galat samajhne ki gunjaish bahut kam thi.”
I heard Maa take a slow breath.
“Taau ji…”
“Main kisi ko nahi bataunga.”
His voice remained completely calm.
“Na mujhe koi tamasha chahiye, na ghar mein koi baat phailani hai.”
Maa remained silent. Then, very quietly:
“Aapne… kitna dekha?”
That question made me close my eyes for a moment.
Taau didn’t answer immediately.
“Jitna zaroori tha samajhne ke liye.”
Another silence.
Maa’s voice became slightly firmer.
“Aapne kisi ko bataya?”
“Nahi.”
“Aur batayenge?”
Taau gave a soft, almost amused exhale.
“Maine kaha na, Bhabhi. Mujhe kisi ko batane mein koi interest nahi hai.”
Maa didn’t respond.
Then Taau added:
“Lekin ek baat samajh lo.”
His tone had changed very slightly.
“Jo maine dekha, woh ab mere dimaag se niklega nahi. Isliye tumhe bhi sochna chahiye ki ghar mein darwaze kaise khule chhodne hain… aur kaun kab andar aa sakta hai.”
There was no accusation in his voice. No threat either. That somehow made it more unsettling.
Maa spoke after several seconds.
“Aap mujhse kya chahte hain?”
Taau answered almost immediately this time.
“Abhi?”
A pause.
“Kuch nahi.”
He let the words settle.
“Bas itna samajh lo ki main jaanta hoon.”
Another pause.
“Aur kabhi-kabhi kisi cheez ka pata hona hi kaafi hota hai.”
I felt my stomach tighten.
Inside the study, the chair moved slightly.
Maa asked:
“Photographs ka kya?”
Taau’s tone returned to normal.
“Photographs nikalte hain. Anniversary hai. Family ke saamne purani tasveerein rakhni hain.”
The casualness of the sentence was almost absurd. A few seconds earlier they had been discussing something neither of them could pretend was ordinary. Now they were talking about anniversary photographs.
Taau continued:
“Baaki albums bhi hain. Kal ya parson dekh lenge. Jab time mile.”
It sounded almost like an ordinary invitation. But I knew it wasn’t.
The conversation was over.
I heard the scbang of a chair. Footsteps moved toward the door.
I stepped back quickly and turned toward the living room before the study door opened.
A few seconds later, Maa came out. She walked past the living room entrance without looking in. Her face was calm. Too calm. But her eyes were distant, as though she were replaying the conversation in her head.
Taau came out after her. He closed the study door quietly, noticed me standing near the television, and gave the same polite smile he had given me at breakfast.
“Beta. Photographs mil gayi. Anniversary pe kaam aayengi.”
I nodded.
“Ji.”
He walked towards the courtyard as if nothing unusual had happened.
I remained where I was.
A minute later Chacha appeared from the other side of the house. He looked at me questioningly. I shook my head once. Very slightly.
He understood that something had happened. He also understood that I wasn’t ready to explain it.
What he didn’t know was that I wasn’t sure how much I could explain. Because for the first time, I didn’t have the whole picture either.
I knew Taau had seen something. I knew Maa knew he had seen something. But I still didn’t know exactly what Taau knew. And somehow that uncertainty frightened me more than a direct accusation would have.
In the kitchen, Taai was still on the phone. Papa was changing the television channel. Someone upstairs laughed. A pressure cooker whistled in the distance. The house continued its ordinary morning.
Maa walked past the living room again a few minutes later. This time she stopped. She looked at me. Not at the television. At me.
For a second, neither of us spoke.
Then she said quietly,
“Tumse ek baat poochun?”
I looked up.
“Haan, Maa.”
She seemed about to say something. Then she glanced toward the courtyard, where Taau had disappeared. Her expression changed.
“Baad mein.”
And she walked away.
I watched her go.
Until that morning, I had thought the problem was that Taau knew something.
Now I was beginning to suspect there was a bigger problem.
Maa was starting to ask questions too.
For a few minutes I remained at the dining table, staring at the empty cups and the crumbs on the plates. Chacha had gone out toward the courtyard again, probably to smoke. Taai was in the kitchen, talking to someone on the phone about the anniversary catering. Papa had taken his tea into the living room and switched on the television at a low volume.
The house felt ordinary again.
Except for the closed study door at the end of the hallway.
I waited until the sounds from the kitchen became steady, then stood up and walked quietly in that direction. I didn’t go all the way to the door. I stopped a few steps short, near the tall wooden cupboard that held the old winter blankets. From there, I could hear voices if they weren’t kept too low.
At first there was only the soft rustle of paper.
Taau’s voice came first, mild and practical.
“Yeh wala album 1998 ka hai. Shaadi ke do saal baad ka. Tumhe yaad hoga… woh red saree.”
Maa’s reply was quiet.
“Haan. Yaad hai.”
More pages turned. A small pause.
“Yeh photograph thodi kharab ho gayi hai,” Taau said. “Corner se fold ho rakhi thi. Dekho.”
Silence. Then Maa gave a quiet, distracted, “Hmm.”
The way she said it was careful. The same carefulness she had carried since morning.
Taau continued in the same even tone.
“Tum logon ke aane se pehle main soch raha tha… purane din kaafi simple the. Kam log, kam baatein. Ab ghar mein itna kuch chalta rehta hai.”
I felt my shoulders tighten.
Maa didn’t answer immediately. When she did, her voice was steady.
“Ghar bada ho gaya hai, Taau ji. Log bhi badal jaate hain.”
“Haan.” A pause. “Log badal jaate hain.”
Another page turned. Then the album seemed to close.
Taau’s voice became quieter.
“Kal raat main der se aaya tha. Bahar kuch kaam tha.”
Maa said nothing.
“Jab andar aaya, toh guest room ka door thoda khula hua tha.”
My mouth went dry.
Taau continued.
“Main bas dekhne gaya tha ki sab theek hai ya nahi.”
There was a long silence.
“Roshni kam thi,” he said. “Lekin jitna dekha… uske baad galat samajhne ki gunjaish bahut kam thi.”
I heard Maa take a slow breath.
“Taau ji…”
“Main kisi ko nahi bataunga.”
His voice remained completely calm.
“Na mujhe koi tamasha chahiye, na ghar mein koi baat phailani hai.”
Maa remained silent. Then, very quietly:
“Aapne… kitna dekha?”
That question made me close my eyes for a moment.
Taau didn’t answer immediately.
“Jitna zaroori tha samajhne ke liye.”
Another silence.
Maa’s voice became slightly firmer.
“Aapne kisi ko bataya?”
“Nahi.”
“Aur batayenge?”
Taau gave a soft, almost amused exhale.
“Maine kaha na, Bhabhi. Mujhe kisi ko batane mein koi interest nahi hai.”
Maa didn’t respond.
Then Taau added:
“Lekin ek baat samajh lo.”
His tone had changed very slightly.
“Jo maine dekha, woh ab mere dimaag se niklega nahi. Isliye tumhe bhi sochna chahiye ki ghar mein darwaze kaise khule chhodne hain… aur kaun kab andar aa sakta hai.”
There was no accusation in his voice. No threat either. That somehow made it more unsettling.
Maa spoke after several seconds.
“Aap mujhse kya chahte hain?”
Taau answered almost immediately this time.
“Abhi?”
A pause.
“Kuch nahi.”
He let the words settle.
“Bas itna samajh lo ki main jaanta hoon.”
Another pause.
“Aur kabhi-kabhi kisi cheez ka pata hona hi kaafi hota hai.”
I felt my stomach tighten.
Inside the study, the chair moved slightly.
Maa asked:
“Photographs ka kya?”
Taau’s tone returned to normal.
“Photographs nikalte hain. Anniversary hai. Family ke saamne purani tasveerein rakhni hain.”
The casualness of the sentence was almost absurd. A few seconds earlier they had been discussing something neither of them could pretend was ordinary. Now they were talking about anniversary photographs.
Taau continued:
“Baaki albums bhi hain. Kal ya parson dekh lenge. Jab time mile.”
It sounded almost like an ordinary invitation. But I knew it wasn’t.
The conversation was over.
I heard the scbang of a chair. Footsteps moved toward the door.
I stepped back quickly and turned toward the living room before the study door opened.
A few seconds later, Maa came out. She walked past the living room entrance without looking in. Her face was calm. Too calm. But her eyes were distant, as though she were replaying the conversation in her head.
Taau came out after her. He closed the study door quietly, noticed me standing near the television, and gave the same polite smile he had given me at breakfast.
“Beta. Photographs mil gayi. Anniversary pe kaam aayengi.”
I nodded.
“Ji.”
He walked towards the courtyard as if nothing unusual had happened.
I remained where I was.
A minute later Chacha appeared from the other side of the house. He looked at me questioningly. I shook my head once. Very slightly.
He understood that something had happened. He also understood that I wasn’t ready to explain it.
What he didn’t know was that I wasn’t sure how much I could explain. Because for the first time, I didn’t have the whole picture either.
I knew Taau had seen something. I knew Maa knew he had seen something. But I still didn’t know exactly what Taau knew. And somehow that uncertainty frightened me more than a direct accusation would have.
In the kitchen, Taai was still on the phone. Papa was changing the television channel. Someone upstairs laughed. A pressure cooker whistled in the distance. The house continued its ordinary morning.
Maa walked past the living room again a few minutes later. This time she stopped. She looked at me. Not at the television. At me.
For a second, neither of us spoke.
Then she said quietly,
“Tumse ek baat poochun?”
I looked up.
“Haan, Maa.”
She seemed about to say something. Then she glanced toward the courtyard, where Taau had disappeared. Her expression changed.
“Baad mein.”
And she walked away.
I watched her go.
Until that morning, I had thought the problem was that Taau knew something.
Now I was beginning to suspect there was a bigger problem.
Maa was starting to ask questions too.
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