Doodles!!
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The same morning,
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The early morning dawn crisped over the Poddar Mansion, casting a peaceful and beautiful glow over its white walls.
But nothing seems peaceful inside the mansion as the Poddar house was the synonym to the #Kalesh ka Ghar.
It was something like nearly six in the morning, and the main mansion was still in quiet of the night.
But the outhouse was bustling with activity. Madhav was juggling here and there in the kitchen, trying to keep thing intact.
Carefully, taking off the now-well cooked Aloo-Matar from the stove; he placed it on the shelf and started filling the containers with it.
Then packing a huge slot of Chapattis, he packed the tiffin; finally zipping the containers in their respective giant handbag.
Keeping the big tiffin aside, he packed a smaller one for himself and made his way out of the kitchen.
A little later, he set two plates on the table and turned around to make way towards his son's room only to find him appearing himself.
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Arman's morning began as usual.
In the sheer silence of the early dawn, he got up from his bed – where he spent his yet another night, barely sleeping. Taking a quick cold shower, he got ready with a practiced ease.
His moments methodical, almost robotic. Grabbing his wallet, he made his way to his car parked outside the mansion.
"Arman, you're up. Come, breakfast is ready. Let me serve you, sit." Madhav tried to fake the cheerfulness in his voice, as he filled the plates with meal.
"I'm leaving, papa." Arman said in a light whisper before leaving the outhouse.
A little later, the sound of ignited engine filled the silent air and then the vehicle left.
Madhav sighed deeply. It was a new thing for him now, it was his daily routine.
His son would leave the house in the early hours of the dawn and would return late at the night. He never had a single meal with him, since that fateful day.
And yet, every time the hurt remains as intensified as ever.
Every time the void felt deeper and deeper, never-ending like a big black hole.
His son had become a shell of himself. Yes, he is alive but just existing and not living.
For his soul left him long ago.
Wiping off the brimming tears from his eyes, he turned his attention towards the table.
His appetite gone with his son.
Placing food back inside the containers, he picked up the plates and placed them into the wash basin.
After cleaning the dishes and the kitchen, he grabbed the tiffins and headed out of the outhouse.
Just as he reached the threshold, he found two well-packed tiffins kept at the staircase.
A deep sigh left his lips again.
He locked the outhouse and picked up those tiffins. He could smell the aroma of the delicacies inside it, even through the thick cloth handbag coverings.
