Ghosts and their Children.

1. The Beginning.

Even as the sun set, she looked out of the window in search of some light. There was a very death-like smell in the wind that blew. The silence was deafening and its infinity scared her. With her hair in disarray and her red crying eyes she looked out, the ruthless afternoons signalling the entry of tragic evenings which made way to the frightening nights. It was two years since she had smiled. Two long years.

She looked outside again. The sun had already set. The clock struck six as the chords echoed through her palatial house. The house was dark but she knew all the things inside it. She perfectly made her way to the bathroom, freshened up and brushed her hair. The lamp for all the strong, powerful Indian gods was lit. The incense sticks spread a disturbingly agonizing yet a beautiful scent in the house. The Indian gods looked angry yet she prayed.

Slowly the devils started settling in. She got into the bath tub, without blinking her eyes. She took bath cleaning every inch of her body with at most care. Completely naked now she stood in front of the window and looked at herself. It was not that she was unattractive, in fact she invited maximum whistles in her college days, but today it did not seem to matter. The arrogance of her beauty today smiled at her devilishly.

She put on the best of her sarees, sprayed the most expensive perfume, sat on the couch like a lady and waited for him to arrive. She wanted a child from him and he couldn’t give her one. Today was like any other day though, a lust born out of hope, a child born out of wait.

He came, he tried, he failed.

It was all happening in Kupnur, a village on the banks of the river Kaveri. Kumar and Aarti lived there since three years. The palatial house they lived in had 3 floors, all hosting a line of unused bedrooms. A dozen more Kumars and Aartis could live there but nobody did. Kumar looked after the family coffee business and Aarti looked after Kumar.

After two years of shameful male existence Kumar decided to give up his ego one fine morning. He looked at his beautiful wife, kept his hands on her's and said.

“I spoke to the Dharma Anathashrama a couple of days back and they told me that there is a 3 year old boy ready to be adopted if you want”

Aarti looked up. The last three words from him had declared her husband’s defeat. It hurt him and it hurt her. But the silence of their house had hurt them more. Kumar knew Aarti would never refuse. There was a confused glow in her eyes, one which depicted her confusing state – to mourn her husband’s defeat or to celebrate her coming motherhood. She chose herself.

They decided to adopt little Amit. Aarti was happy and for the first time in his life Kumar was excited.