“Over his son’s tears?”
Atharva couldn't hold back another sigh. He did not know what to make of this now.
“Would this…”
“No,” he turned on his side and faced her. “No, myani zuv. This will not affect anything. Janta is strong in pre-polls. Don’t worry.”
“Vikram is sure?”
“Iam sure,” he cupped her cheek.
“But what if the road home is closed forever because of what happened today?”
“And what if it is opened even wider?” He countered, bringing her closer and pushing his forehead over hers.
“What if it is opened even wider…” she repeated his words under her breath, falling asleep in his hand.
Atharva remained awake.
48. God made the world round so we couldn’t see too far down the road…
God made the world round so we couldn’t see too far down the road.
Isak Dinesen
Atharva rubbed his hair and wrapped the towel around his waist. The fog from his shower cleared up and he stepped out in front of the mirror, reaching for his shaving paraphernalia. He warmed the brush under the hot water of the basin and grabbed the cream.
“Baba!” Yathaarth thudded on the door. “Baba!”
“What is it?”
“Mama come…” more thuds.
“I am coming.”
The thuds turned into a tune. Atharva stopped making foam on his cheek and twisted his hand back to unlock the door. In slipped his little son, his head peeping like he was entering some treasure land and not the same bathroom where he bathed three times a day, four if it was summer. Like right now.
“And why are you playing the bathroom door like a banjo?” Atharva asked, resuming his shaving. No answer. He eyed his son through the mirror. He was fixated on him.
“What you doing, Baba?”
“I am shaving,” he picked his razor, ran the blade under hot water and reached up to clear a tract of white foam. Yathaarth came in front of him and stuck to his thigh, head thrown back. Saturdays were the mornings he got bored the most. No playschool, no friends, no Noora because he was posted in Kashmir today. Atharva let him get bored. Children found creative ways to keep themselves occupied only when they experienced real boredom. His son certainly did.
“Mama shaving?”
“No,” Atharva smiled. “Only boys shave.”
“I am boy.”
“You are,” Atharva finished clearing one cheek and pulled his lip down.
“Me too,” Yathaarth’s plump lip pulled down to mimic him. Atharva held back a chuckle, staring down at him. His cheeks puffed up and he bobbed his head, holding his hand up.
“Hmm,” Atharva reached down and plucked him up, seating him on the basin platform in front of him. “You can shave, but only with me.”
Yathaarth nodded solemnly.
“What did I just say?”
