Isha Jain | Story
The Mehra Family

"You should buy a new one, Mehra Ji!" Nisha put the dishes down on the table.

Mohan looked up from his wristwatch as he gave her a noncommittal reply. It had stopped working months ago. But it was a gift he couldn't bring himself to part with, not even to get it repaired.

Chanchal pushed the wheelchair into its slot, ignoring her mother trying to help.

"Why did your colleague cancel?" She asked her father.

He didn't. It was Mohan who told him not to come. He didn't want him in the same space as his family.

Nisha had met him at the party last night and invited him over for dinner despite Mohan's grumbling. He had to make excuses for his absence now.

The doorbell rang, saving Mohan from answering.

"Why don't you ever come on time?" He fired his son.

"It is a job. You have to do as your boss orders." Ujjwal was already irritated.

"Like you are the only one with a job." His father pinned him with a glare.

Ujjwal's hand tightened at the spoon. He wouldn't even be stuck in it if it weren't for his father and his expectations.

"Bhai, will you take me to the post office?" Chanchal asked, bringing his attention away from their father.

Ujjwal gave her a tight nod, "I will take the painting. You don't have to trouble yourself." At least she could do what her heart desired. He would help her in any way he could.

"But I can take it." It had been months since she went anywhere except the hospital.

"No. He will do it." Mohan said in a final voice.

"You are charging more, right?" Ujjwal asked as he gave her an apologetic look.

"Yes, a bit. I don't want to lose clients." She played with her food.

"They won't appreciate you unless…"

"It's better not to get greedy." Mohan voiced his opinion making Ujjwal roll his eyes. If it were up to their father, she would still be charging pennies for her art.

Ujjwal locked his jaw in anger and ignored his father for the rest of the dinner. The table fell silent, and they all retreated to their rooms soon.

"I need ten thousand rupees. There were some changes in Chanchal's prescription." Nisha put her hand on his chest as they lay in bed.

"What? I don't have that much now. Can we start it next month?" Mohan turned to switch off the light, not seeing her fallen face.

She pursed her lips at his answer, "I will ask him." Or take it out from her savings. The medicines were expensive. It took everything Chanchal and Ujjwal earned, and more to get it.
 
It wasn't like she was earning anything, even though she had the opportunity. Mrs. Rao had asked her to help in her business continuously, yet Mohan refused, asking who would take care of Chanchal then. 

Nisha settled beside her husband with a sigh, one hand draped over his stomach. 

After a while, they heard the sound of the wheelchair. Mohan took the opportunity to move away from his wife.

"Mom, can you help me to change?" Nisha sighed and went to help her.

Mohan was breathing heavily after she left. He frantically dialed his colleague's phone. His eyes teared at the family portrait hanging on the opposite wall as he spoke to him.

"Why don't you paint something happy?" Nisha frowned at her latest canvas with an injured bird lying on a road as rain washed away its blood.

Chanchal shrugged as Nisha helped her change and settle in the bed, falling asleep in her room as usual.

Maybe if she had gone back to her room that night, nothing would have changed.

She didn't know if it would have been better or worse. The search for the family's patriarch started with denial in the morning before it turned into a frantic search. The acceptance came days later, followed by shame and adjustment to the new reality.

The rumors of running away because of the financial strain took the front seat. Nisha knew the reason why he ran away. But she couldn't bring herself to accept it, let alone share it with her children.

Still, she thought his way of escape was better than finding his dead body hanging from the ceiling or lying in his blood in the bathroom. But it didn't lessen the hurt she felt.

"I have to go to the police station tomorrow." It was time they closed the disappearance case. They knew that he had left them on his own accord. "Will you be able to manage by yourself?" Nisha asked her daughter.

"I was thinking of going to the gallery tomorrow." Chanchal stopped eating to give her mother a pleading look.

"Tomorrow won't work. I have to meet with the investors tomorrow."

"You are still going on about that." Nisha was frustrated.

"Don't start, Maa!" Her daughter sighed.

"Isn't the debt enough? How will we pay bills? How will we afford her operation?" She went off on her son.

"We won't be able to afford it in a lifetime if I continue like this."

"And what if it doesn't work?" He knew the risks, yet he knew that staying where he was would be worse. He had to take the leap.

"I don't want the operation!" Chanchal shouted, her chest heaving, "What's the point when I can't go anywhere without you two?"

"We do it for your safety." Nisha reasoned.

"Safety." She snorted, "Bedroom to the kitchen, kitchen to the bedroom. Hospital once a week. That's all. It would have been better if I died." Her volume decreased as she let out her frustrations, her head bent.

Nisha had tears running down her face as her son settled back in his seat, their dinner forgotten.

"I...I…"

"I don't have any friends left after school. You talk with the aunties. You go out with your friends and girlfriend. I spend all my time here." She moved her face around the dining room.

Ujjwal softened his tone, "What do you want?" He never thought his sister felt this way. He thought she liked painting from the comforts of her home.

She wiped her tears away, "My boss asked me to come to the gallery, meet with clients, network. But." She looked at her wheelchair with disdain.

He nodded in understanding, "Call the cab service in the morning," he put up a hand as Nisha opened her mouth to protest.

She gave him a grin as she nodded her head.

"If your father was here…" It hurt Nisha to think of him. Yet she couldn't blame him. Maybe she would have done the same thing in his place.

"But he isn't. Is he? He chose to run. Leave us here on our own."

She pursed her lips at his reply, "Fine. Do as you want. When will you resign, then?"

"If everything goes well tomorrow, then soon." He had to make sure he was earning at least his monthly income from the business before he could leave his job. 

The rush of his startup was exhilarating. He had been working on the idea for months, and it was finally coming to fruition. He never got support from his father, yet he needed it from his mother.

"Maybe I should take up Mrs. Roy's offer, then. Fill up my time. We could also pay back the debt soon." The family knew it was more than a suggestion.

They continued their dinner with a small smiles on their face.

If someone had told them then that the happiest part was yet to come, they would have given him the same smile, full of hope.

"Hurry up, Chanchal! The movers are here." Nisha breezed past her in a flurry of her new saree, her face glowing.

Chanchal picked up her crutches and started the slow process of getting up from the seat. It was still a pain to walk with them. The doctor had told them that she would always need them not to put pressure on her joints.

"Hurry!" Nisha shouted from the front gate again.

"She would pack us too if she could." Ujjwal went after her in the elevator.

Chanchal laughed at the face he made, "She wants to."

"Easy, please. It is fragile." She called to the worker carrying away her landscape. It would soon accompany her to London for her first international exhibition.

Ujjwal helped her in the car as they waited for their mother to come down. "I think she is more excited about heading the branch there." She had proven herself a good business woman, helping her son with his business too for the past three years.

"Maybe she would take over your business next."

The siblings laughed. "Will Ajay come?" He raised an eyebrow at her.

She turned her head away to hide a shy smile, "Yes. He will meet us there." Along with her boss and some of her colleagues.

Her brother grunted as his phone rang with his partner's name, "Be back soon." He left the car to take the call.

Nisha was doing the final check of place when the doorbell rang.

"We were just about to leave." Nisha took the envelope from the delivery boy. It would take a few more days to get the parcels to their new address.

She opened the white envelope, something heavy falling to the ground as she took out the letter.

She picked up the familiar watch, running her thumb over it as she read the letter in her other hand. A tear made way from Nisha's eye, and she brushed it off with a smile.

She locked the door for the final time, looking at her home for the past twenty-five years. She went to her children and new home. 

The watch was left on the window sill.