CHANDANI

Vikram drove home in silence, his heart pounding with anger and guilt. Chandani's revelations had shattered him, and as he pulled into the driveway, he knew he couldn't avoid this confrontation any longer. His mother’s betrayal, along with his own role in it all, gnawed at his conscience.

As soon as he stepped inside, he met his mother’s furious gaze. She’d been fuming since he left the courthouse with Chandani instead of siding with her.

“So, yeh tumne kya tamasha banaya?”
(So, is this the spectacle you've created?) she spat, her tone cold and dripping with bitterness. “Tum apni maa ko sabke saamne neecha dikhane mein sharam bhi nahi aayi? Us aurat ne tumhe bewakoof banaya hai, sirf paison ke liye! Tumhe lagta hai woh tumhara bacha h ?”
(Didn't you feel ashamed to humiliate your own mother in front of everyone? That woman fooled you, all for money! Do you really think that child was yours?)

Vikram clenched his jaw, his anger boiling over. "Enough!" His voice echoed through the room, silencing her instantly. "Main sab jaanta hoon, Maa. Sab kuch. Mujhe pata hai tumne kya kiya. Tumne mere bache ko maar dala, aur sirf isliye kyunki woh ladki thi."
(I know everything, Mom. Everything. I know what you did. You killed my child, and you did it just because it was a girl.)

For a moment, his mother looked taken aback, but her expression quickly turned defiant. "Haan, maine kiya jo zaroori tha," (Yes, I did what was necessary) she replied sharply. "Ladki thi, aur uska astitva... zaroori tha khatam karna." (It was a girl, and her existence... needed to be ended)

Vikram stared at her in disbelief, the cruelty of her words hitting him like a punch. "Aap kaise kar sakti hain yeh sab? Woh mera bacha tha, Maa. Chandani aur mera."
(How could you do all this? That was my child, Mom. Mine and Chandani’s.)

She let out a frustrated sigh, dismissing his reaction. "Itna natak kyun kar rahe ho? Tumhe toh khud shaadi nahi karni thi uske saath. Phir us bache ki yaadon ka ab kya farak padta hai?"
(Why all the drama? You shouldn’t have married her in the first place. So what difference does it make now, the memories of that child?")

Vikram shook his head, his fists clenched in fury. "Shaadi nahi karni thi, lekin woh bacha toh mera tha! Tumhe kaise fark nahi padta?"
(I shouldn’t have married her, but that child was still mine! How does it not matter to you?)

His mother rolled her eyes. "Farak?"(Matter?) she scoffed. "Maine wahi kiya jo mujhse kaha gaya. Tumhe kya lagta hai? Tumhare pitaaji ke ghar mein mujhe bhi ladki paida karne ki ijaazat nahi thi. Tumse pehle bhi ek ladki thi, lekin tumhare dadaji ne... zabardasti woh bacha gira diya."
(I did what I was told. What do you think? Your father's family never allowed me to have a girl. There was a girl before you, but your grandfather... forcibly made her miscarry.)

Vikram’s mind reeled at her words. His gaze clouded with shock and disgust. He’d known his family upheld rigid traditions, but this? Realizing the cruelty and control his grandparents held even over their daughters-in-law left him speechless.

He shook his head, unable to fathom it. “Aur aap ne wahi Chandani ke saath kiya? Uska kasoor kya tha?”
(And you did the same thing with Chandani? What was her fault?)

She simply scoffed again, unaffected. “Yeh toh hamare khandaan ki parampara hai. Tum itna drama kyun kar rahe ho? Sabka bhala isi mein hai. Tum samajhte kyun nahi?”
(This is the tradition of our family. Why are you making such a fuss? Everyone benefits from it. Why don’t you understand?)

Vikram’s voice cracked, pain raw in his tone. "Aap bhi ek aurat hain, Maa. Yeh dard aapne bhi saha hai. Phir aapne Chandani ko woh dard kyun diya? Uski koi izzat kyun nahi ki?"
(You’re a woman too, Mom. You’ve endured this pain. Then why did you give Chandani that same pain? Why couldn’t you respect her?)

There was a long pause, her silence speaking volumes. He shook his head, his expression full of disgust and disbelief. "Maa... main is ghar mein ab aur nahi reh sakta, jab tak yeh sach mere saamne rahega. Aap jo bhi justify karne ki koshish kar rahi hain, woh sab... mere bache ke khilaf ek jurm tha."
(Mom... I can’t live in this house anymore, not with this truth in front of me. Whatever you’re trying to justify, it was all... a crime against my child.)

Turning away, he walked toward the door, his mother’s cold protests fading behind him. "Vikram, itna overreact karne ki zaroorat nahi hai! Woh sirf ek bacha tha. You don’t have to care about something that happened eight years ago!"
(Vikram, you don’t need to overreact! It was just a child. You don’t have to care about something that happened eight years ago!)

As Vikram reached the door, he saw his younger brother, Rohan, standing nearby, his face a mirror of disbelief and disgust. Their father, who had been silently watching the exchange, remained uncomfortably quiet, looking away.

Rohan stepped forward, voice thick with anger. “Bhai, kya yeh sab sach hai? Maa ne... aur Papa ne yeh sab jaante hue bhi kuch nahi kiya?”
(Brother, is this all true? Did Mom... and Dad know and still did nothing?)

Their father looked away, unable to meet their eyes. “Yeh ghar ke andar ka mamla hai, beta,”(This is an internal family matter, son) he muttered, unwilling to challenge his wife or the family's ways.

Vikram’s heart sank even further. He looked at his father, his respect crumbling. "Papa, ek insaan hone ke naate toh aapko kuch kehna chahiye tha. Par aap bhi usi parampara mein phas gaye."
(Dad, as a human being, you should’ve said something. But you too got stuck in the same tradition.)

Without waiting for a reply, he turned and walked out, Rohan following close behind. They didn’t speak as they left the house, each of them processing the betrayal and silence of their family.

---

Later that night, Vikram found himself sitting in a park, his thoughts clouded with sorrow and regret. Children were playing nearby, their laughter filling the air. He watched them, thinking about the daughter he never got to meet. If she were alive, maybe she would have been playing there too, laughing and running with the same innocence.

As the thought struck him, an unexpected tear slipped down his cheek, followed by another. Before he knew it, he was crying, his shoulders shaking as he let out the grief he’d been holding inside. The betrayal from his own mother, the weight of his actions, the loss of his own child—it was all too much.

For the first time, he truly understood the magnitude of what Chandani must have gone through all these years. She’d borne this pain alone, without support, carrying the weight of their lost child while he stayed distant and indifferent.

How much courage must it have taken for her to keep going?

He knew he couldn’t simply ask for Chandani’s forgiveness, but he also knew he couldn’t just walk away this time. He wouldn’t let her baby go so easily, not after realizing what he’d lost—and what he’d let happen.