Destiny's Gamble

This Is Me

"Why are you making breakfast? Didn't Manik..." I trail off, as I follow Sateesh's gaze towards the dustbin. "This man's impossible," I murmur, making my way towards the bin.

Opening the lid, I find the breakfast I had made for Manik splattered across the inside, alongside the note I had written and the fresh shake I'd made for him. I guess I should get used to my food getting abused in this manner.

"I'm sorry, Ma'am." Sateesh says, sounding upset. "I know how much effort you put into making that meal."

"Why're you sorry?" I smile. "Manik's just a little mad. Once he tries the food I make, he will regret each of the times he tossed the dishes into the trash." Sateesh smiles, nodding in agreement.

No matter how low my spirits are at the moment, I must be positive throughout this time. Because the day I lose hope that a new day will come with a change in Manik, I will lose this battle for good. I will lose the man my heart yearns for and that is not an option.

"I'm heading somewhere." I tell Sateesh, as I take out the lunchboxes I have made from the fridge. "And I might get a bit late, so don't worry. Also, I've already prepared dinner."

"Take care, Ma'am." Sateesh says, as he pours out boxed orange juice for Manik. Oh, so the Devil wants to have that and not the freshly squeezed one I make. What a child!

*****

"Nandini, nowadays nobody comes to visit." D'Lima Aunty says, as I wheel her towards the game room. "It's just you and this other young man. Not even our children care anymore."

"And do I not classify as your child?" I ask, trying to lighten her mood. "I have been visiting you since my early teenage years and considering the secrets we've shared with each other, the birthdays we've spent together, the mall trips and what not, I feel like I should fall under the category of your daughter."

"Of course," she laughs, patting my hand. D'Lima Aunty's upset mood is completely just. I've been coming here for many years now and I've noticed how at first her children - one son and two daughters - used to visit her frequently. Then, for some reason, those visits became less often and now it's been a year since any of them have step foot in this old age home.

"What're you playing today?" I ask her, as we enter the game room, where a crowd of elderly people are already gathered. Most of them are involved in a game of cards, but a few have even engrossed themselves in pool, or video games. Like they say, age is just a number.

"I heard that you brought us a new version of that game. What's it called...Call of Duty?" D'Lima Aunty's eyes sparkle at the sight of the gaming console. I nod my head, grinning.

"Yeah, and I'm sure you'll kick everyone's butt at it again." I say, fully aware of her passion and never ending streak of wins.

"Then what're we doing here?" She asks, making me laugh. As I park D'Lima Aunty near the gaming console and set her up with the controls, I head back out of the room.

This place has been my comfort home - my escape from reality - for many years now. I discovered it one day when I was on my way back from school, on foot, because I had missed the bus, and since then I've come here every week. If I could, I would set up home in here. Alas, that's not an option. Maybe once I'm old and retired.

"He's here!" Naina - a bubbly eleven year old - exclaims, as she grabs hold of her friend's hand and they both bolt towards the door that links the old age home with the orphanage.

"Naina!" I call out, causing her to halt. Her friend tugs at her arm impatiently.

"What's the commotion about?" I ask, as I watch the other children also rush towards the door.

"Aarav's here," she says, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "He plays the best guitar one could ever hear and his voice is just out of this world." She nods her head towards the door. "Come with us. You'll fall in love with him." A giggle escapes her lips, as she turns around and rushes towards the door with her friend. Someone harbors a crush for this mystery man.

"Is he a singer, or something?" I question, fast walking to match up with the little girl's footsteps.

"He doesn't tell us much about his life," Naina replies, the grin that's tearing her cheeks apart, not wanting to leave her face. "But if he was a singer, I'd spend every last penny of my pocket money buying his albums."

"And he doesn't come here often? Is that why everyone's so excited?" I throw another question her way, my curiosity piqued at the topic of this mysterious man.

"Oh no, he comes here all the time. It's just that Aarav was busy with some functions and so he hasn't come here in two weeks. But it doesn't matter. Whether he comes after a week, or a day, everyone still gets equally excited at his arrival."

"Let's go see this man then," I say, wanting to see the person who causes such a frenzy amongst the children.

As soon as we step foot into the common room, an involuntary gasp of surprise escapes my lips. Every single child is gathered in this room, which is a rarity. In fact, at times when we want all the children assembled, it takes us about an hour or more and this man has done so in mere minutes.

He's like the Piped Piper. I'm already impressed. My eyes land on the caretakers of these two homes and even they're standing to the side of the hall, eagerly awaiting the start of the show. I stand on my tiptoes to get a better look at the front of the room, but my efforts are in vain.

"I am not a stranger to the dark," this man - Aarav - begins to sing. His voice, courtesy of the mic, bounces across all four walls of the room. I didn't think it was possible, but just by him singing this line, he's gotten himself another fan. "Hide away, they say," he continues singing, and I can already feel myself encompassed in the magic of his voice.

"Wow," I whisper, trying once again to get a better view of the stage. He continues to belt out lyric after lyric, my feet swaying on their own volition. I glance around the room, my eyes spotting a chair.

I make my way towards it, eager to rest my eyes on the face of this singing god. Grabbing the back of the chair, I climb onto it, the structure wobbling a bit with my weight. Once I know it's balanced, I let go of the back and stand up straight, my gaze falling onto the stage.

This time I'm blown away by surprise, shock and pure confusion. My eyes widen, as I tune out the sound of the man's voice and just focus on his face.

"Manik," I murmur, unsure of whether my eyes are deceiving me, or if my husband is really on stage, singing for a crowd of children.