12) Meri Behna? Oblivious

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12) Meri Behna? Oblivious

Ultimate Fam Playlist: Hey Soul Sister (Train)

Janvi's POV

Do you miss your mother?

That was one constant question which so many people kept asking me. Normally I can answer any question thrown at me, whether personal or academical, I always could answer anything.

But how do you answer such a question?

Do I miss my mother?

Of course, or as Mansi would say, duh, I mean which parentless child would not miss their late parents? I missed her ardently, and the fact that I had two mothers, made the missing even more greater.

Okay, so back in Rishikesh both my mothers shared a room since their childhood and after their deaths, that room has been kept as a shrine. Like literally no one goes there, unless of course for cleaning or dusting, and it's only open for the two of us.

Mansi and me.

And whenever I'd miss my mothers, to the point it made me cry, I would sneak in the room, sit by the windowsill and hold their picture to my heart and look up to the sky.

Then my Paa would come to find me sitting in the darkness, he'd look at me with lost eyes and wipe my tears, just hugging me. I could feel his tears falling on my head, but I'd never say anything.

That's how much we missed Maanvi Singh Chaudhary, or Mrs. Virat Vadhera, now that I know.

That was one thing I really adored about my father, he never hid his vulnerability from me. Since we shared a very small room as our house, just next to our Badi beeji's house, there wasn't much to keep from. Every single thing that made me happy or sad, angry or upset, I told my Paa and vice-versa.

It was obvious that we had a full disclosure policy between us where he'd tell me everything and I couldn't hide anything, even if I sneezed more than thrice, I'd have to report to him. He had befriended Manav and that made Manav tattle on me as Samar does.

Till this point, I really thought my father and I were really open about our lives and feelings to each other. And I believed him.

I trusted him with my everything.

And turns out, he being a Vadhera wasn't the only thing he hid from me.

He hid the fact that my mother had cancer, he hid the fact that I was prone to cancer and whatever tests I did was routine to check whether I had cancerous cells in me, and the worst part, he hid that he was musician.

Yea. Mr. Virat Singh Vadhera, my Paa, a person who slaved and slaved behind a computer, was a musician with loads of records and albums to his name.

And he was good.

'This is beautiful.' Mansi spoke, as we watched the video together, on a loop actually, 'The records, the songs and Virat Pa's voice, shit no wonder you have gotten a beautiful voice.'

As Mansi replayed the album, all I did was sit and watch the video of my father singing a song, so beautifully, his hands playing the guitar gracefully and such a huge smile on his face.

I'm scared I've never seen that smile.

Samar had finally retrieved one of the CDs, and we didn't know which he had chosen and hence Mansi just played only to see that it was a video album of my dad's songs which apparently we never knew.

My world was crushing, every thing I was holding too was getting snatched away. My badi maa, my mother, Mansi, and now my father.

What was next? Death?

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