The visitor was not a curious neighbour, as she had feared. Nor was it a friendly face as she had hoped. The man who entered the house was a stranger, albeit a familiar one, though she could not place him.

She rarely forgot a face; it could be due to the painkillers. She stared at him; he would be her father's age and she knew that he must know her father, which was why he looked familiar, but she just could not recall who he was.

Her aunt's calloused grasp jolted her out of her ruminations, she must have been staring. Summoning her strength, she mumbled a greeting and his answer, rather his voice, tore into the fog surrounding her brain. He was her father's friend and business partner, no, not partner, financial advisor. She had seen him before for he had come once or twice, to advise her mother.

It was with growing curiosity that she watched him approach her, preparing to give the standard reply when he would try to comfort her. 'Be brave, you must be strong, at least for your grandfather' She had received that sympathetic advice more times than she could count. Initially she would nod in sullen silence, now she accepted it in resignation.

Hence when he simply handed her a bag, without saying a word, she was surprised. Gāyathri cradled it with her good hand, relieved when her aunt insisted that she go to her room.

She could not wait to see what was in the package. A small glimpse of the contents was enough for the memories to flood her.

The day was hot and humid and though her father was sweating profusely, there was no word of protest as she tugged him from stall to stall. There was nothing particular she wanted, she just enjoyed having her father all to herself. Her mother had refused to come with them, not willing to risk the sun and the humidity, but her father was easily persuaded. That day she had been oblivious to his unvoiced discomfort, today, she could feel his fatigue pouring out.

"Naana, this is such a cute jaadi."

"Amaddu, what will you do with it?"

Nothing, Naana, it is my gift to you."

The jar would have cracked under her tight grip as she held it out to her father. Terror lurked deep down; there was always a doubt that her father would laugh at her, or worse, refuse to accept that jar. It was silly, both the buying of the jar and those thoughts, but she had always been a trifle insecure about her father's love.

"Fine, I will keep it safe and treasure it."

When she heard her father, she could not resist teasing, "Well, in that case, maybe I should get a bigger one, it would allow you to keep a lot more stuff..."

The bafflement on her father's face, as he stared at the large brown and white ceramic jar that she held, only made her laugh, "Naana, do not worry, I think I will take the small cylindrical one, rather than this squat one."

That had been more than five years ago and she had rarely thought about the jar. For her, it was just a momentary impulse. Her father, however, had treasured it; just as he had promised.

Gāyathri shook the jar and stared at the scattered memories that tumbled from the jar; a single silver anklet that she had worn when she was around five years old and one that she was sure she had lost. A broken pen, one of those use-and-throw plastic ones; she had got it for her father from the school fair. Two cracked shells that had a funny stripe pattern; they had picked those when her father had taken her to the Antherveda beach.

She peered into the jar and saw that there were pieces of papers in it. She pulled out the topmost one, it crackled in her hand. The paper seemed new and could not be hers.

It was a page torn from a ruled notebook and folded twice over. She smoothed it out and stared at the drawing. A red flower, green leaf, a stick figure of a tree and the yellow blob of the sun. A drawing made in crayon, by a child. Jealously burned in her bones and anger rippled in her blood. It had to be made by him, her father's son. And it hurt anew, that her father treasured it, in a jar gifted by him.

Crumpling the sheet she tried to throw it, but unable to lift her arm, she let it fall to the ground. She knew she was being unreasonable but could not deny the bitterness she felt.

Gāyathri held the jar close to her chest and refused to let the tears fall. It was when she was putting the trinkets back that she noticed the jar was not empty. There was more paper inside.

The sheets were of uniform size, similar to a postcard, but of a finer quality. Each was folded twice along the width. She opened one; the writing was artistic and was a quote. Another had a different style and a different quote. She unfolded a couple more and all were the same, a quote or a saying. And though they were in different fonts, they were all written by her father; it had to be for the few she checked, bore his initial – ASR.

The fourth note was in her father' hand and left her in tears, though they were warm and filled her heart with love.

"You have been a blessing from the start,

I love my daughter with my heart."

—ASR

It had to be a message from her father, even though he was gone, it was a way of letting her know that she was and would be loved. The surety of that knowledge warmed her and strengthened her. A strength she had to draw on when she learnt why the visitor had come.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

"What"?

There was more Gāyathri wanted to say, or scream, or rant. But that was the only word she managed to croak out. It was unbelievable, and cruel too, a few hours ago she had made up her mind to be happy and grateful for her uncle's family and now, that option was being snatched away. It was unfair.

"Gāyathri, will you please listen to me? I know it is a shock but then it was your father's last wish, he mentioned it in his will too. Your grandparents would be your guardians in the event of his death...

"I am not going anywhere. This is my home now, they are the only people who have always been for me. I am not leaving them and this place..."

"Listen, I know you are upset but then look at it this way. You have always wanted to visit Hyderabad"—

"With amma and nanna, not as an obligation. They never cared about us when Nanna was alive, so why should they care about his wishes, when he is gone?"

That silenced the visitor, he seemed unable to counter that statement of hers.

"Gāyathri!

One word, softly spoken but carrying a command, she knew her aunt well enough. There would be no use arguing; the decision had been made by them and she would be given no choice. Yet, she was not going to give in without a fight.

Her aunt knew her quite well, for before Gāyathri could even open her mouth, she continued.

"Take this chance. After all, it is only a matter of four weeks, once you are eighteen, you would be a legal adult and you could decide not to live there. This home is always there for you."

"Then why force me to go? I could..."

"Because you cannot and must not make a decision based only on your moods and emotions. I agree that this is not the way you would like to meet your grandparents, but since you do not have much of a choice, take this chance gracefully. However, irrespective of that fact, if you are uncomfortable or you do not want to stay there, just call me and we will get you home with us, no questions asked. No one will stop us."

A silent plea to her uncle was answered by another silent plea and Gāyathri gave in. She nodded her head in agreement unwilling to voice her surrender.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

It surprised her, though it should not have, that her consent was taken for granted; there was no other explanation for the fact that her ticket for the evening flight to Hyderabad had already been booked. In two hours she found herself in the small airport, one she had visited a few times to see her father off. On those occasions, she had wished she was travelling along with her father, the idea of flying was both exciting and frightening.

Now she had no feelings, just emptiness. And after her small suitcase had been checked in, she waited in the lounge. Her father's friend, whom she had earlier addressed as Bābeya was now treated with distant silence. All his kind and gracious attempts were met with polite yet firm refusals.

Drained of all emotions and thoughts, she spent the entire journey in silence. Two hours later when they exited the airport, Hyderabad greeted her with cold and dry air. The drive from the airport to her father's home in Jubilee Hills, a posh locality, where filmstars and celebrities lived, was less than an hour. One which seemed to fly for she reached faster than she expected.

Gāyathri exited the car and stood in the portico staring at the house, grateful that Bābeya was with her. She was sure she looked as her hair felt, dry and frazzled. She shivered with cold and trepidation as she finally stood at the threshold of her father's house.

A glimpse of the man's back in the hall and she stumbled, managing not to fall as she clutched the door frame. Ashen faced, she whispered, "Nanna?"