"I know what you are thinking, Waseef. Life had been unfair to Mayank, no doubt, but he too had been unfair to Mamma."

"Can't deny that."

"Remember the match in which Mayank blatantly refused to shake hands with you and stomped straight out of the field?"

Waseef cleared his throat. "I am afraid it has happened more than once. And not just this."

Aanvik shook his head. "Well, he seemed excessively hostile for the first time following the incident. I am glad that Mayank isn't into politics or history. Otherwise, I am quite sure he would have blamed you for World War II as well. Perhaps even the first one."

"And for feeding Adam that apple, I suppose?"

"Ah, kid, don't feel too bad about it. He is always butchering everyone and everything, in his imagination. The last time I voluntarily opened his diary, I found the Irish team inside the refrigerator, frozen to death. It's nothing; I have seen worse." Aanvik frowned. "When you are in intense pain, it sometimes helps to hold someone responsible in your thoughts. Tormenting them therein is even better."

"As long as it doesn't become a habit. Continue."

"Three years went by. I talked to Mamma occasionally. Mayank was as crazy as ever. Then one evening, I learned from Mamma that she was ill. High fever, but nothing to be concerned about. At least that's what she said. About a week later, her husband kindly let me know that she did not make it. Mamma, just like that, was gone."

"I still believe that she had a lot to say the last time we talked," he continued, "but she did not say much. After a very long pause, she simply said that... that she loved us."

Aanvik could no longer overlook the lump forming in his throat. He stopped at once and wiped his moist eyes with the back of his palm. Waseef stood motionlessly and observed him in silence, battling the urge to walk over and hold him in a deep embrace. He let out a faint sigh and waited, allowing his friend to recollect himself.

"I wish I could see Mamma one last time," said Aanvik about a minute later, "and feel the warmth of her hand. The warmth over which I had full claim as a child turned over time into a treasure I could only dream of."

"And Mayank," he added. "I cannot tell what was going on inside his mind. Even if I were given a chance to peek into it, I would have chosen not to take it out of fear of the petrifying catastrophe I would find there. Shranav was mad at his disturbing withdrawal. He believed that Mayank should have shown this care when she was alive."

"Can't agree more."

Aanvik sighed. "I won't comment on that. Anyway, following her death, we started to grow increasingly concerned about Lucian. With Mamma gone, we had no idea how he was being treated. I tried to contact his father, but with no luck. Meanwhile, Mayank began to give us an even harder time. He started hurting himself more frequently and in all sorts of ways. We often found a small bruise here, a little cut there, and a minor burn somewhere. Shranav and I tried to get professional help for him and begged him to cooperate, but he was not ready to listen. He did not want help. He wanted Lucian."

"It's surprising how he managed to keep on playing."

"Oh, it's a good thing that he did. The game comes with its own pressure, but it has always helped him tackle a part of his grief and fury. Perhaps it's one of the greatest reasons why he hasn't ended up in a lunatic asylum yet."

"Makes sense. But no one ever realized something was wrong with him?"

"People think he has a few loose screws in his head, and that's all. Well, most of the time, he remains in dead silence. He is never actively hostile toward anyone unless he is provoked first, in one way or another," replied Aanvik. "Um, I sometimes earn a blow or two, but I don't count."

"You don't think I stepped on his foot on purpose that day, do you?"

"Oh, no! I know you'd never do such a thing, but some people do take great pleasure in irritating him."

Waseef nodded briefly.

"Mayank wasn't alright, and it just couldn't keep on going like this. His madness about Lucian was understandable. I was anxious myself. We tried to think of a way to get to our baby brother; we felt that perhaps he needed us as much as we needed him. Out of desperation, we ended up doing something utterly crazy. The funny thing is that it worked."

"That 'We Need Lucian' thing in the newspaper. It was you."

"Brilliant. You remember it." Aanvik chortled. "It wasn't easy to convince a leading newspaper to let us do this. We had to pay three times the fixed amount to secure a good portion of the first page. Staying anonymous was another challenge. We kept the message brief; it simply addressed Lucian's father and asked him to contact his stepson A. K. as soon as possible. There was no way anyone except him would have figured it out. And guess what? Doing it three times in three consecutive weeks grabbed his attention."

Waseef shook his head. "Of course it did. The thing went viral on social media. People were coming up with all kinds of nonsensical theories. Some thought it was a joke. Others thought it would turn out to be a crazy promotional tactic. The questions remained unanswered. Really, boy? What were you thinking?"

"Sorry about that. We had no other choice. And as I said before, the plan did work. We received a letter from Lucian's dad. But it was of little use. He said that Lucian was safe and fine and that he was sorry about not being able to maintain contact with us. It also came with a sweet and passive warning against the use of such 'creative ways' of trying to reach him. We had to back off for the time being."

"On the bright side," he added, "it did stir him a little. After a few weeks, I received a phone call from him. He said he was indeed sorry about the whole thing. He also promised to let us know how Lucian was doing from time to time. I asked him if we could talk to Lucian once, but he declined the request. It turned out that our baby brother was not even aware of our existence."

"So, he used to contact you?"

"Rarely. But it was better than nothing. Shranav tried to dig out some information about him from the phone numbers, but he could not. He never used his own phone to call."

"Oh."

"Two more years went by. One day, he called to let me know that he was diagnosed with a terminal illness. Mayank was there too; he dove in and asked what was to become of Lucian. What the man said took us by surprise. He said we would see Lucian more often after his death. Mayank, not surprisingly, asked him when he was going to die, but I was more interested in what he intended to do with our baby brother. He did not reveal that. He said that we would find out when the time was right. With that, he cut the call. We never heard from him again."

A few marks appeared on Waseef's forehead.

"We grew restless. Not having Lucian was bad enough, but being abandoned in midair with a little hope of having him was perhaps worse. We were left in that state for more than a month. Then one day, I received another call, but not from Lucian's dad. It was his nephew. He spoke in an unnaturally faint and cold voice, and he took very little time to break the news. Lucian's father died. Not from the illness but from an accident."

"For me, that wasn't the shocking part," Aanvik continued. "I was dumbstruck by what he said next. You know what he said, Waseef?"

"What... did he say?" 

"Lucian's dad wasn't the only one to die."

The revelation was followed by a minute of intolerable silence. Waseef let his eyes settle themselves on the floor; they were no longer keen on finding his distressed friend.

"A few weeks later, we received a physical copy of Lucian Martin's death certificate," said Aanvik. "A piece of paper turned out to be the heaviest burden I have ever carried. There wasn't a single drop of tears in Mayank's eyes. Nor did he raise an uproar. But how I wished for him to cry violently and destroy everything on his way that day! That would have been a more pleasant sight to watch."

Aanvik let out a massive sigh. "Waseef."

"I'm listening."

"I thought Mayank was being as crazy as ever when he started blaming you for stealing something from him. Isn't it funny how the accusation, though half-whimsical and half based on his injured emotions, proved to be truer than I would have ever expected it to be?"

"What?"

"Give it back, Waseef."

"Give what back?" asked the addressed one as he placed his cold eyes on his company.

Aanvik walked closer to Waseef and gently placed a hand beneath his chin. "Mayank's place. You can't take it."