In His Custody ✎ (MaNan)

✰ 5 - principal's 'son'

Rewritten: 18 March 2024

⭒

Nyonika

The sprucely decorated corridors had clumps of students chattering as they had joyfully escaped their classes to take part in arranging lights and posters. It felt like a homecoming being thrown for Manik. Tension buckled up in my shoulders at that mere thought. Manik would never willingly have chosen to return to Mumbai, which meant there was some force involved.

"Good morning Ma'am."

Outwardly I nodded while bile pooled in my mouth as some nauseating memories of a little boy being ruthlessly whipped resurfaced from a dark vague portion of my memory, I stormed faster, startling some groups into paying me some respects.

But you hadn't said a word, hadn't raised a finger in objection, my subconscious taunted. Anything, I would do anything to wipe traces of my sheer indifference towards that scoundrel's horrifying acts.

Mindlessly bumping into one of the football-sized lanterns that were strung along either side of the walls, my insides stirred uneasily. Copies of his old annual day performance CDs circulated from the stalls around campus, along with volunteers collecting books and merchandise from those who wanted his signature on it for a nominal price. As if he was a professional musician already. Dim, yellow lantern lights were a tradition at SPACE Academy for every welcoming occasion, but in my current emotional state, those flag posts resembled an untimely warning that the worst was yet to come.

The principal's son was his nametag and the source of his popularity within the school, his biggest achievement until he left Mumbai at seventeen to live with his father. And despite hoping and praying for the day to arrive, his departure left behind loneliness in the form of a ghost in the Malhotra Mansion, one that haunted me in my solitude for months at end. After all, even parents who adopt unwillingly tend to get attached.

The loss of a fifteen-year-long connection, actually two, stirs even the most stable and indifferent people. Somewhere deep down though I never loved them the way other parents did, they had consumed a major chunk of my life. Although I never expected him to call me once he met his father, there was a tiny part of me that desperately wished he did think of me at least once: accounting for all the time we lived together – maintaining a tense relationship perhaps, but it still was one. Then, after being deprived of him for a very long time, all I wanted was to see him and hear him again.

My string of thoughts was broken when a student approached me with a pamphlet that had a scorecard on it. I supposed it was for a ballot, but before I could peer into the details, I was approached by another from behind. "Ma'am, are you looking for Manik?" I nodded with an enthusiastic smile, that was slightly genuine. Nobody else knew our equation, and Manik played his part right in it.

"Science block, 4th floor."

I blinked in my spot. It was uncanny to even picture him in the Science building. He would never step foot in that side of the campus back in the days – the Arts department, the Commerce Department and the Science department were all at each other's heads every year, swearing to be rivals until eternity. But eternity is a long time to keep a promise intact for.

A loud chattering crowd gathered in the middle of the corridor on the fourth floor, with notepads and pens in their hands, hopefully wanting some autographs from the man who was supposedly going to make it big... finally. It dispersed quick enough when I stepped into the picture and Manik casually happened to catch my eye.