The Kashyup Redemption

xvi. Janus

A/N: I'm sorry I took so long to update. I had a serious case of writer's block (the nasty my work sucks kind) I'm finally kind of getting better with it. I'd like to dedicate this chapter to the wonderful lady @samsherlocked who kick-started my confidence! On another happier note, Happy Independence Day fellow Indians!

Parth was not sure what he was supposed to do now. He hadn't really come to the Saxena house without a fixed plan. Apart from get away from the get away from the Agarwals ASAP.

The moment the Agarwal house came to his mind Parth frowned. He had to tell Sanyukta he had gone to his father's place. And she would insist on coming to see him in person to make sure he was alright.

But right now, Parth did not want anyone to talk to. He did not feel like convincing Sanyukta that everything was 'hunky dory' nor did he feel like Parth Sanyukta knew. Calm and Collected Kashyup felt like a thing of the past.

He barely knew who he was supposed to be. He did not even know if he'd be expected to change his name to Saxena.

If he was asked, he knew he could not say no. His father had been deeply hurt when he had refused to call himself Parth Saxena.

He clutched his head.

There was too much to be done and none of it could be done right now.

He hated how helpless it made him feel. He'd had a plan for his future before and nothing had turned out the way he wanted. Instead, it had wrecked everything he considered safe and normal. He was scared to try rebuilding in case it fell apart once more.

Those thoughts were the ones that Parth found himself drowning in. It was a familiar place in a sense, this suppressed grief. He had let it consume him in the past and he was not keen on letting history repeat itself this time. He'd allowed himself to silently mourn for his mother, but he was adamant on not letting the loss control everything. And it made him feel guilty.

But that was what his mother would have wanted. To see him grow.

Too bad she wasn't here to see it happen.

He looked around at the room, allowing himself to actually notice the components. It was a focusing exercise. One that he'd read about. Meditation in a more accessible form, something to keep him in the present. An anchor of sorts.

The room was white. The furniture in it had dark wood. It looked like a nice room, like a hotel room. Spacious and elegant.

A far cry from his own crammed room with its makeshift curtain divider for privacy and the battered sofabed.

Different or not, this room was his now. This was home.

Logically, Parth knew it would take some time for that to sink in, for him to emotionally accept it.

In the meanwhile, the practical thing to do was to unpack.

He couldn't help but smile at that. Because that was exactly what his mother would have said.

And luckily, there were only two suitcases to tackle. There was the proverbial silver lining in the stormy cloud his life had become.

He opened both the suitcases and the sheer lack of clothes in both of them made his heart clench. He himself owned two pairs of jeans (one of them slightly frayed), three vests and five shirts. But to see the fact that his mother owned only two saris made the life she had lived starkly clear. His throat felt all scratchy. There was no way he could go through any of her stuff, not without spiraling into a dark place. He shut the suitcase and put it up on one of the higher shelves in the large armoire. His own were quickly arranged in the spaces: shirts on hangers, pants neatly folded on one of the shelves and the rest in drawers. The slightly worn towel was half heartedly put in too.

He noticed there was a lot of stuff he was missing. Like his guitar. His gift from Arpita. The last of his reminders of her. He figured that his mother would have sold it when she needed money. The same with his engineering textbooks. He understood why she had to do that even if he did not like that she had to do that. And that was enough.

But the rest of his stuff, like his TaiChi equipment was left intact. He threw a majority of it in the trash. Tiny useless trinkets. The folder with his certificates, important documents and passport he carefully put away in a drawer. He checked his tattered wallet and to his relief found his license. At the bottom of the suitcase was the last item: a photo of him with the dream team. In happier times.

He held it up to study it better. Sahil shyly looking at the camera, his hands in front of him. Yoyo giving Sahil bunny ears. Sanyukta and Randhir standing shoulder to shoulder, grins on both their faces. And Vidushi and him. His arm around her shoulders, a blissful smile on her face.

He folded the picture in half. There. Now he couldn't see what he couldn't have.

The most 'logical' thing would be to discard the photo.

But he had already lost so much. He did not feel like throwing any more away.

Even if it hurt.

Especially if it hurt.

After all, after all this time, pain was the only constant in his life.

Putting away all his possessions should have made him feel a little more grounded.

But all it did was make him feel like this house needed something more to make it feel like it was home.

Not something more...

He pushed the half formed thought away, forcing himself to focus on more practical things.

Like talking to his father.

He tucked the photo away in the last place anyone would look. The clichéd underwear drawer. He tucked away the longing he did not want to name back to where he always pushed it.

Away.