Hi all! Here are the next chapters. Thanks a million for your feedback, it's really encouraging and appreciated. :)


Chapter Eight

Past

While balancing a large picnic basket stuffed with Maan's favorite foods, Daadi Maa rang the doorbell of her obstinate grandson's flat.

Silence.

She sighed.  Ever since Maan and Sameera had broken up six months ago -- for reasons that Maan refused to disclose -- Maan had reverted to the reserved man he had been before the relationship. Daadi remembered fondly when Sameera had first waltzed into Maan's life: Gone were the days of keeping women at bay, fearful that they would walk out on him just as his mother had.  He had been happy, open, and in love.  What had Sameera done to sever such strong ties? 

Anxiety gripped Daadi's chest as she wondered whether Maan would ever settle down.  With her worsening cardiac problems, relief would only arrive when Maan had a family of his own.

She was about to ring again when the door swung open.  There stood Maan in black sweatpants and a white tank top, dark circles under his eyes.

Shaking her head sympathetically, Daadi cupped his chin in her palm. He was leaner than she remembered.

"Daadi? Wow. What are you doing here? There was no need for all this."  Maan attempted to smile, gesturing at the basket.  "You should be at home, resting. The doctor said that you should minimize travel."

Ignoring him, Daadi stepped inside and set the basket on the floor.  She was not one to beat around the bush.  "I want you to hear me out. Carefully."

Maan cocked his head to the side.  "About what?"

Daadi closed the door behind her, then slowly, deliberately turned to face him.  "I want you to start thinking about marriage, Maan."
 
She watched as his eyes steeled over.  "No, Daadi."

Daadi set her mouth in a line. "Maan, you are my first grandchild. I expect you to fulfill your responsibilities and produce me a great-grandchild, do you hear me?  You must get married.  Now, I thought that you and Sameera would work out.  But I see that is no longer a possibility."

Maan rubbed his eyes.  He didn't have time for this.  He had a mountain of engineering texts and problem sets to tackle.  "Daadi, I'm busy.  I have a study session later with Farah and need to catch up.  And just to save you the trouble, I'm not marrying anyone. Now, thank you for the food, but --"

"Who is Farah?"

"Just a classmate, Daadi."  Maan tapped his foot impatiently.

"Just a classmate? But maybe romantic feelings will develop --"

"Daadi!" Maan threw up his hands in exasperation.

"What happened between you and Sameera, Maan?"  Daadi folded her arms across her chest.  "For six months, I have respected your decision to keep quiet about all this.  You had so much love for her before.  What did she do?" 

"I'm not getting married," Maan said firmly, sidestepping her inquiries. "I mean no disrespect, Daadi.  I just . . . I can't.  I'm sorry." 

"What about children?" she demanded.  "If you don't have a wife, then --"

"Children?"  Maan forced a laugh.  "No thanks."  He felt fresh venom bubbling out of each wound in his soul.

Daadi clutched her chest, tears welling in her eyes.  Her resolve had broken.  "Maan," she whispered, shaking her head fiercely.  "Please, my dear, don't say that.  It breaks my heart, which cannot handle such strain.  You must have a child, a family. You *must,* Maan.  Do you realize how stressful this is on my health?"

His expression softening, Maan sighed deeply. He wished he could tell her how much he himself wanted a child, how excited he had been just months earlier before Sameera had shattered him. He couldn't bear the thought of hurting his grandmother, of contributing to her health issues.  She was the only woman that Maan had consistently been able to count on.  But getting married was simply not going to happen.  "I understand that, Daadi.  But my decision is final."

She dabbed at her eyes. "Continuing the family line is extremely important.  I don't know how much time I have left --"

"Daadi!"  Maan admonished.  "Do *not* talk that way."

"Well, it's true."  Daadi patted his cheek.  "Now, I will let you get back to work.  Think about all I have said.  Sooner rather than later, I want you to have a child who will be bouncing on my lap.  Do you understand?"

Maan embraced his grandmother, hoping she couldn't see the color draining from his face.


Chapter Nine

Present

Maan raised his eyebrows, unsure of how to react to this young woman and her shock at seeing his face. How did she know his name?  Maan bent down to lift her bag and handed it to her.

"Th -- thank you," she sputtered.  Her eyes roamed his face wildly, and she looked faint.

"You're welcome." He glanced at Mrs. Faizal quizzically.

The head librarian looked equally startled.  "Are you all right, Geet?  Do you know Professor Khurana?"

Geet quickly straightened herself.  "Uh, I . . . I saw him in the faculty directory, ma'am.  I'm sorry, I didn't mean to address him by his first name."  She dropped her eyes, brimming with deceit, to the floor.

"It's quite all right," Maan said, glancing at his watch.  He only had a little while before he had to pick up Riya.
 
"You go on home," Mrs. Faizal directed, touching Geet's shoulder.  "I will show Professor Khurana around."  She turned to Maan.  "My apologies for keeping you waiting, Professor."

"It's fine," Maan said, waving his hand.  "I was actually just looking at the bulletin board to see if there were any ads for daycare or a babysitter for my daughter."

Geet clutched her bag to her chest and watched them climb the spiral staircase to the second floor.

Maan glanced back at Geet, who stood rooted to her spot.  He furrowed his brow, feeling uncomfortable at the pretty girl's gaze.

---

Turning the last page of Riya's favorite storybook, Maan yawned.  "The end," he concluded.  He and Riya had had a quiet dinner and were in the process of completing her bedtime rituals.

Riya snuggled deep into her bright pink comforter.  "Another story, Daddy?"

Maan chuckled. "My love, we've already read three.  Actually, I want to talk to you about what happened with your little classmate Thomas today."

Appearing lost in thought, Riya waited a few moments before speaking.  "Daddy, how come I don't have a mama?"

Maan froze.  This was not where he had expected the conversation to go.  Riya had never mentioned her mother -- or lack thereof -- before.

"Why do you ask, sweetheart?" he asked, enunciating each word slowly.

Riya shrugged.  "Because . . . Thomas said I only want to stay with you because you are lonely. Because you don't have a wife and because I don't have a mama."

Pausing, Maan attempted to cough the tightness out of his throat. "Well, you do have a mother, baby," he said at last. "She just isn't . . . here."  Immediately, Maan felt foolish.  Even a child would find that answer unsatisfying.

"Where is she?"

Two conversations about Riya's mother in one day; it was too much.  Why did everyone care so much?  Wasn't he doing a sufficient job raising this beautiful little girl on his own?  "I don't know," he said softly, stroking her cheek with his fingers.

"Does she hate me?"

Maan's jaw dropped.  It pained him that the light of his life carried such heavy and ugly fears.

"No, sweetheart, she doesn't hate you.  No one could ever hate you."

"Then how come she doesn't come to see me?"  Riya clutched Teddy, looking up at her father expectantly.  Maan could see her chin start to quiver, and he feared splintering into pieces at the sight of her weeping.
 
Just then, the phone rang.

*Saved by the bell,* Maan thought gratefully. "One minute, baby."  He stood and walked into the hall, where the stand propping up the landline phone was located.
 
Riya alighted from the bed and followed him, her teddy bear dangling behind her.  She couldn't fall asleep unless her father was watching over her, humming a lullaby.

Maan grabbed the phone and answered.  Riya slipped her hand into his and leaned against his hip, waiting patiently as he conversed. 

"Is this Professor Khurana?"  A soft, feminine voice was on the other end.

"Yes, may I ask who's calling?"  Maan gently squeezed Riya's small fingers.  He hoped she would always want to stay close.

"This is Geet Handa. . . .   I am the clerical library assistant you met earlier today.  I, um . . . was the one who dropped my bag?"

Maan knit his brows.  Why was this clumsy young woman calling him at home?  And how did she get his number?

"Yes, I remember.  What can I do for you, Miss Handa?"

"I -- I retrieved your number from the faculty contact database in the library.  I think you said you were looking for a babysitter for your child?"  She paused and then took a deep breath. "I believe I can help you, Professor."

---

Thank you for reading! <3
kumari32011-10-01 15:12:50