PYTHON

Python's tale

"It will be available by the month......but keep the launch after month and a half, changes can be made after all......" python said fumbling with his tie. He loosened the knot as it literally was choking him.
"Sure Mr. Python, I'll have your message delivered to Mr. Raghu. Anything else which I can do for you....." Karn's robotic voice reverberated inside the chamber. Python huffed after struggling with the tie for 15 minutes straight.
"You can charge yourself up karn....... that's it for now....." and with that the robotic voice wasn't heard after. Madhushree sat on the bed, watching him attentively as he did something with his tie. He didn't know how to tie a knot she could tell it by the way he was striving hard to achieve that. He wasn't looking at her for he was just too scared. He knew he had hurted her, not physically but mentally, and he just didn't wanted to face her. Therefore he tried to keep his eyes on his tie while furtively peeking at her through the corner of his eyes occasionally.
"What's your real name python......" he spun and gasped. Was she talking to him??? He was uncertain at first but with the empathetic look in her eyes, he was sure that she was indeed talking to him. Python was shocked because no one ever tried to ask his name before. She looked into his passionate eyes, waiting for an answer.
"Adhiraaj......Adhiraaj Suryavanshi." he said with an austere tone but compassionate eyes. She tilted her head and looked at him.
"That's a good name.......why would you want to change your name to 'Python'....." she asked innocently. He chuckled but that wasn't an amusing one rather it held dolour and pain. He came towards her and kneeled down beside the bed so she could lock her eyes with his.
"Because that's what I am......A Python...." he replied with a smile which was far from happy.
"Why would you say that????" she whisper-asked and he chuckled.
"Ajgar hi to hu mai.....apne ma baap ko nigal gaya na......." tears lingered in the corner of his eyes though that smile on his face never wiped out. She couldn't take her eyes away from his deep piercing ones, especially when they held so much pain.
"That's not true......" she whispered as tears build up in her beautiful eyes. He took a deep breath, trying to keep those tears at bay.
"I didn't choose this name madhu....... this world did......" he confessed and her tearful eyes watched him with empathy. Under those menacing eyes hided pain and suffering beyond anyone's expectations. She sniffed and held his big hand.
"But why would the world say that......." she asked lowly and he gazed at her with love and hope. He sniffed and started.
"I wasn't born rich madhu, besides I hardly had anything. My father was a descendant of Suryavanshi's but due to some tragedy or should I say 'family politics' he was ousted from his own clan with his parents when he was very young. My grandparents died pretty early leaving my father to survive on his own and he did that by doing odd jobs. He was a small gardener appointed in a whimsical wealthy man's garden. When I was born, my mother was diagnosed with explosive tuberculosis. Tuberculosis was no longer a death certificate but for someone who hardly had money to afford two time meals, it indeed meant death. I hardly remember anything of my mother, all I recall is a woman lying prostrate on a squalid bed, coughing and crying all day long. You know madhu, I was probably three at that time but I had the responsibility to clean my tiny shabby house and look after my mother. I remember kids around my slum, teasing me, calling me names because I never used to play with them. How could I after all that work which was bestowed upon me. My father was a really nice man but extremely hapless and powerless. He used to come back around 10, exhausted, but he never showed that to me. After coming from work, he used to cook food and I.....I clearly remember it was mustard greens which we had probably every day for it was the cheapest food available that time....... the only food my father could afford with his meagre salary. People in my slum called me a devil, that I am responsible for my parents dismay but my father always shared differing opinions. He believed that he was the luckiest man in this entire world because I was his kid. Unfortunately the world thought otherwise. And then, when I was 4 my mother passed away. My poor old man didn't had enough money to arrange for her last rites. We cremated her, my father had to sell away our only utensils to arrange money for wood. We are the descendants of Sun, there are plenty of rites which have to be followed after someone's death but my father just couldn't do anything due to lack of money. Thankfully, a humble priest helped us and somehow we came out from that tough time. " he paused to sniff. Madhushree had tears brimming in her eyes as she heard him attentively.