Mitali Jain

Summer, 2008, came as a huge surprise to us when the temperature began to fluctuate at an alarming rate. The number of diseases, deaths and uncertainty of the weather had many of us in wonder, if this year they would just pass it by or make something out of themselves.

When 5 months back the brutal winters had hit us up, me and my family had made plans, plans that were so sure that I had thought that I was already out there in the states of Himachal, Jammu and Kashmir and what not.

However, Bombay had been successful to amaze us. The weather being one of my complaints - the way the mornings would turn out to be filled with fog around the cars waiting for the kids to draw various patterns on them, to the mid mornings which would make you ready for the unbeaten heat like that of the deserts, and finally ending up with stuffy and chocked up homes with a cool bizarre environment, as the night would took its charge.

It was interesting the way my social media, which I had hardly got any chance to surf, would always be filled with the memes on the weather or some crazy girl styling her not so fascinating scarf around her face, neck etc. only to make sure that the face would be secured from the harsh U.V rays.

To say we were leading a battle each day to survive was an understatement. But life in Bombay wouldn't just be that. This was India and unlike people having a habit of minding their own business, I lived about people who – had a huge house with lavish lifestyles, their eyes and expressions hidden behind their large sunglasses, their 'okays' always sounding as unsure as which would be the next world cup that India would win and a large number of secrets up their sleeves, just that they wouldn't be just theirs but all the 500+ contacts that they had saved in their cell phones...

And, not to forget the highly private life, where my mom would know what was going on in her sister's daughter's best friend's sister's life. – Now go ahead and figure out what private actually meant.

With these many people as my surveillance camera, I had never expected to have easy life, but again what would have been its definition? I never understood, and never had guts to ask my elders what that even meant.

But I was happy, I was happy because I was amongst those 10% of the population who had been lucky enough to live their 23 years of life the way they want to. Bombay, that had long back become Mumbai, was fortunately or unfortunately my home for as long as I could remember.

The first rains, the traffic, the local trains, the bus, the fights and the mafias, none had escaped from my knowledge. Though most of them were from experience, certain things in my life I realized the hardest way.

For instance, the fact that Parents teacher day was supposed to be attended by both, the father and Mother. That's when my family comes into the picture. Though Mumbai is said to be huge city, my family was luckily something, which many Guajarati family weren't – a Small nuclear family that held, obviously my parents and an elder brother by 2 years and me.

People thought I was lucky, I was the younger one, hence was supposed to be pampered, I was a Guajarati hence was supposed to be loaded, I was a girl hence I was supposed to be the apple of everyone's eye.

But somehow, things couldn't always be the way everyone wants them to be. My Dad, who went by the name Vilas Jain was a business man, one for whom the nights and the days would be the same. Yet there would be times when late at night the nightmares would concur my dreams and I would be wide awake in my bedroom of our three BHK flat in the south Bombay, my dad would always be by my side, as his humming would always put me back to sleep in minutes.

Those weren't the only things that I remember of my dad during my toddler days, though it had always been my mom who would be the scale and the chocolate of our family, dad would be someone who would teach us the in and out of being a human.

One of his favorite dialogues to motivate someone had always been something like this, "nothing is more costly than the price of living a life that your heart dictates you to. Who knows what that brat would demand?"

His partners would laugh, whereas the kids...many times it had been my friends who would be the target – would only frown at his words. Their meaning was difficult to understand, but the wrinkles on his face and numerous sleepless nights that he had in his youth were the truthful tale for his words.

So coming back to the story, though my father was this serious man who had a huge business to run, my mom as I said was the stick and chocolate, who would know us better than ourselves and would only fuss about the things and what we eat.

But somewhere when we, and when I say we, it includes me and my brother who though is 2 years elder than me, it never occurred to me that we could as well be 2 years apart, many times we had this weird inkling of something and it would turn out to be true. Hence when our brains began to register certain things did we realize there was a difference in what we had in our family than to our friends?

It was than at the age of 15 that we discovered, my parents were orphans, who were raised by their respective uncles and aunts and were married off at the age of 18 and 22. It was when my mom was 21, when she had my brother, and to handle a kid at an age where one wasn't sure of themselves.

But somehow life was to me lived, and my parents found the will to live it happily!

Even though that was the case, I could faintly remember the nights when the my dad's room would be dimly lit, with his head buried deep into the papers that he worked on, with my mom waiting for him to come back to sleep. Though things seemed pretty good, I and my brother knew that the city wasn't good at all.

Mumbai was Malicious, day in and day out the news and our surrounding showed us how each day if you weren't ready to fight, than at least be ready to be slaughtered and buried under the webs of poverty and society classes.

Though our family was similar to the millions that stayed there, the similar cliché issues of budgets, the uncountable discussions on career during dinners, the fights to do what we wanted etc. etc., but somewhere me and my brother were clear of what we wanted in life.

And it did cost us a huge sum to achieve what our heart desired, as my dad had predicted, but at the end of the day when I held my degree in Arts, and an appointment letter as the assistant curator for Jahangir art gallery, it seemed acceptable.

Acceptable, for there was something more this heart desired, it was somehow greedy to exceed some more, to not be just a name and be known as a person, as an achiever and may be let people know that MitaliJain, wasn't just a girl from the upper middle class section of the society, but someone Enchanting!

When I had started off with that job, I had a frequent visitor during the lunch, and as much handsome and good looking my brother, Naveen Jain, was it was pain in the ass that he was my brother and was pretty much successful in keeping me at a bay from my colleagues. It was days later when I came to know that it wasn't just the fact that he literally had nothing to do at his job at my dad's business, rather a perfect proposal that he had received.

And it was days later when we were seated at our dining table, with my mum smiling away, as my dad and both her children were home to have dinner with her that we had raised the topic. And as much as I had hated for my brother to be as straight forward with words, I couldn't stop praising his ability to present it to my parents the way he did.

Inclining his sharp elbows on the side of his plates, he had cleared his throat and looked right into my dad's eyes and said,

"I was offered a post of Managing Director for the new set up of Kapadia industry, and I believe this would be my ticket to what I really want to do."

Though a huge silence was stretched around the dining table, with my body getting agitated with hopefulness, my mom's eyes looking unsure, my dad had just asked one thing,

"At what cost?", Ahh, the cost, what did we expected would be the chances of this failing... the answer if amused him, and the future if seemed unsure, would be your closed deal. Sometimes it had made me wonder what kind of person my dad really was.

But that evening my brother as well had amused me, he had laughed it off, and said, "the least could happen is, the company going bankrupt with my life ruined."

That was least... say what?

"And the most?" I had stupidly inquired.

"The most damage is of not accepting this would be, me getting stuck into something which I had never wanted and regretting it forever. " His sounded so casual for a moment I had mistaken for them to be discussing the weather. But my dad had this strange look on his face, as he picked up his fork and ate a few morsels and drank the water from his glass. Keeping it back in its place, he looked back at him and said,

"Go ahead, as it is the least damage this could cause you is a damaged carrier and life... but if you would be happy even after that, without any regrets; then who am I to stop you from pursuing it."

With that, my brother's fate was sealed, with ourrelation getting even stronger with the Kapadia's, the royals of rajasthan -the Singh's and the Chauhans.

Finally after about two years I am back at something new. This story has legit got me crazy, all I know is when i write and read, i jump at how perfect it sounds. 

now its upto you guys to tell me how it really is. and because i couldnt wait to know that here is the chapter. 

but before getting to really know this all, i would really like to thank, 

@choco_lava16 my best friend who had always been the supportive system and to remind me that I am and can do the best.

Secondly, shreya_VA, thanks a lot for being my very first reader who had reached out to me and expressed her views on the story. 

i am looking forward to read and know all your views and comments on the upcoming story. 

ahhh, it surely feels good to start something new.

Happy reading. 

Cuteminger A.K.A Yadni