MaNan: Breaking Free

38|Truth

Manik's POV-

The minute I switch on my phone, I see a barrage of missed calls from Nandini. Just as I am about to call her back, the door of my house opens and mom's smiling face greets me. She pulls me into a hug, looking very pleased.

"How are you, beta?" She practically drags me inside and starts fussing over me. "How's work?"

"I am okay, mom. Everything's okay." I reassure her.

"So you finally missed me enough to visit." She chides. I roll my eyes and hug her again. She really has a penchant for drama.

After an hour of fussing and pampering, she finally lets me go up to my room. Taking a quick shower, I decide to get started right away.

Mom has kept all of dad's stuff in our spare bedroom. There are three large shelves here, stacked with books, files and papers. There is a small cupboard on the side which holds old Hindi movies and songs.

Going over to one of the shelves, I start searching manually. There are hundreds of files here, all arranged year wise. Dad liked to document his work, which explains the huge number of files. It's going to take me hours to go through all of these. I go to the section which holds the files from the year that dad died. Pulling a heavy one out, I begin my search.

I thoroughly go through all the files, carefully prying away each document. After finishing with 2004 files, I move on to other years.

Nothing.

There's still one huge stack of files left. Taking a deep breath, I pick them up and send them tumbling down on the table, my increasing disappointment getting the better of me.

I don't even know how long I've been in here. Probably hours and hours. And I haven't found anything even remotely suspicious.

Another dead end.

"Manik?" It's quite late when mom pokes her head in. "What are you trying to find?" She asks suspiciously.

"Nothing, mom." I reply quickly. "I just felt like going through dad's things. I- I was missing him."

A look of sadness and grief takes over her features, but she masks it quickly. "In that case, I may have something for you. Come on."

Tired and utterly dejected, I follow her into the living room. She is flitting about the room, opening cupboard after cupboard.

"Mom, what are you looking for?"

"Our photo albums. It's been a long time since we've seen the pictures." She smiles. "Here." She deposits several photo albums in front of me.

The next hour goes by looking at the numerous photos, from my school functions, the parents' wedding and so many pictures of mom and dad from their youth. As we look at a picture from dad's college days with his friends, tears spill from mom's eyes, splashing on the picture. She immediately wipes them away and gets up to go into the kitchen.

I caress the picture, wiping away the tears. Looking at dad's face, young and cheerful, makes my insides ache. He went too soon. There was so much life in him, all wasted. Wiping the moisture from my own eyes, I flip the page to find more pictures of dad with his friends.

A picture at the bottom catches my eye.

It's an old picture of dad and mom with another couple. My attention is on the woman standing beside mom. She looks oddly familiar but I have no idea where I have seen her.

"Mom, who are these people?"

Mom places a plate of food in front of me and sits down beside me to have a closer look at the picture.