Soft, ethereal music floated up from the ground floor, harmoniously enveloping the duplex flat with its gentle melody. The atmosphere was infused with anticipation as the guests began to trickle in, their laughter and cheerful voices creating a vibrant undertone to the celebration.
On the first floor, Ravindran sat in contemplative silence, absorbing the cacophony of voices drifting upward. Phrases like “Hi… Congrats, Rohan!” danced around him, uttered in various tones that rang out with sincere joy and excitement. Today marked a proud occasion—the celebration of his brother’s son, Rohan, who had triumphantly completed his Chartered Accountancy examinations on the very first attempt.
As the jubilant atmosphere unfolded below him, Ravindran’s mind was occupied with a lingering disagreement that had taken place five years ago.
“Why have you enrolled Rohan in commerce? Engineering is the path to success today, the ultimate pursuit!” Ravindran had vehemently contended with his brother, his voice tinged with both conviction and frustration. He had firmly declared his wish for Dinesh, his own son, to undergo rigorous coaching for the IIT examinations in the coming year, believing this was the only route to a prosperous future.
“Rohan wants to pursue Chartered Accountancy,” Ravindran’s brother had replied succinctly, a hint of defensiveness creeping into his tone. Though Ravindran’s brother had tried to remain calm, an undeniable irritation shimmered in the air between them.
Ravindran could feel the acerbic twitch of his own lips and the disdainful shrug of his shoulders, making his disapproval all the more evident. His muttered voice carried a trace of bitterness, “Children should not be allowed to make such significant decisions. What do they really know about the world?”
The weight of his own thoughts now hung heavy in the atmosphere, punctuated by the soft sounds of celebration that danced beyond his closed door.
Just then, a gentle knock on the door startled Ravindran from his pensive thoughts. “Are you not ready to come down?” his mother’s voice, soft yet insistent, filtered through the wood.
He chose silence, ignoring her gentle nudge, and rested his head on his hands, folded on the table before him. The moment felt so heavy, laden with expectations and unspoken disappointments.
“Everyone is waiting for you to start the celebration. Rohan is awaiting your presence to cut the cake.” His mother continued, her voice filled with a mixture of concern and urgency. “You can’t run away from this forever. What will the guests think? That you’re jealous of your nephew’s success?” Her words pressed on him, a reminder of the judgmental eyes of family and friends below.
Seeing the look of deep concern etched on his septuagenarian mother’s face—those eyes pleading with him to join the festivities—Ravindran finally relented. With a reluctant sigh, he splashed water on his face, mentally preparing himself for the convivial revelry that awaited him. He descended the stairs with heavy steps, each footfall echoing his internal strife.
As he entered the buzz of the gathering, his gaze fell upon his wife, effortlessly navigating through the crowd of guests, engaging in animated conversations.
A complex surge of emotions welled up within him. How could she put up that cheerful face and gracefully move without showing any feelings? For a fraction of a second, he almost envisaged himself walking up to her and questioning her about her nonchalant behaviour.
However, he held back his steps as he realised no fault lay with her.
All she did earlier was like any mother would do; she stood by their son, buoying his spirits and showering him with praise for his budding scriptwriting talent. As a devoted mother, she had dedicated countless hours to ensure Dinesh was positioned to graduate from a prestigious school for scriptwriting, leaving no stone unturned in her efforts.
Yet Ravindran’s heart was heavy with objections, and he thundered his disapproval, “While kids your son’s age are becoming proud owners of sprawling homes and flashy cars, yours will be pedaling around on a rusted bicycle. Not every scriptwriter finds success, but engineers almost always do.” The words tumbled out, thick with the weight of his concern for Dinesh’s future.
Ravindran once again looked at his wife and heaved a sigh!
“Please bless me,” Rohan said, interrupting his tumultuous thoughts as he approached, reaching down to touch Ravindran’s feet in a gesture of respect.
“Goddess Saraswati already blesses you. May you reach the pinnacle of success,” Ravindran muttered, engulfing the boy in a hug, desperately attempting to mask the internal storm brewing within him. It wasn’t envy of his nephew’s success; it was desolation.
Suddenly, Dinesh’s voice cut through the jubilant noise; his words choked with helpless sobs echoing in Ravindran’s ears. “I don’t want to pursue this course. I can never make it big in the field of engineering. I need help with the intricacies of all the subjects in this coaching class. Appa, I’m just not made for IIT.” His anguish resonated deeply within Ravindran, amplifying his unease.
He shifted uneasily on his chair as his wife approached him.
“Would you like some juice?” She asked, extending a glass towards him with a gentle smile that, upon closer inspection, hid her own deep-seated pain just beneath its surface.
Together, they glanced up at the garlanded photograph of Dinesh, who smiled down at them, seemingly unaware of the turmoil that swirled in his father’s heart.
“If only I had allowed him to pursue the field of his own choosing!” An agonizing sigh escaped Ravindran’s lips, a lament filled with the weight of unchosen paths and what-ifs. The moment felt as fragile as the music lingering in the air, a poignant reminder of the dreams and choices that guided their lives, echoing long after the notes faded away.