Project Heart(h) ✓

Nineteen Months Later

"It's in Delhi, Ma."

"Yes, I know."

It did not make sense. "So why – I – you want me to take the job?"

"Of course I do."

"But... I'll have to move to Delhi."

"I know."

"Which – I – I can't," he cried. Then hoping against hope, he added, "Right?"

"Why not?"

This was crazy. He was probably dreaming. "Because I can't leave you! And Lohor."

"What do you mean leave?" His mother settled back comfortably on the chair as if already deeming this conversation worthless. "I'm going with you."

Dikhou's jaw fell to the ground. "You what?"

His mother raised an eyebrow in challenge. "What? Were you planning on leaving me here?"

"No! Of course not. I wasn't planning anything – I – are you serious?"

"Of course."

This was too much to process. He glanced at Lohor who was apparently having a gala time watching their to and fro. "What about Lohor?" Dikhou asked.

"We'll take him with us," his mother replied without any reluctance. "Right, Lohor?"

"Yes, please." He nodded. "Puhor-da taught me all the good Hindi curses before he left."

That was a... whole different conversation that Dikhou saved for later. He turned to gape at his mother, his body shaking with a feeling he could not identify. When he spoke again, it was a whisper. Almost a plea. "Really?"

The woman smiled as if she understood. "Really," she said, just as softly. "I think it's a great idea. Public schools in Delhi are better than ours; it'll be good for Lohor." And because the kid hated staying at his uncle's place but she left that bit unsaid.

Dikhou sucked in a deep breath and faced the lawn outside – the grass was green and wet, flower bushes were in full bloom and betelnut trees lined the fence as a protective wall of their own. The rain trickled down the roof in a soothing rhythm. The street beyond the gate was deserted except for a few ducks waddling about. Dikhou felt tears prickle the back of his eyes. "You both will come with me? Leaving this place?"

"Totally," Lohor said with an eye roll while his mother said, "Of course."

"But it's..." His voice broke a little. "Home."

"You are my home, Dikhou," his mother said. "This is just a place."

Dikhou put a hand over his mouth. "What about the house?"

"Priti and her family can stay here; look after the house and our fields. With her kids growing up, they'll be more comfortable here."

As the initial shock settled into his bones, a new thought struck him like a bolt of lightning when he realised how quickly his mother was responding to his questions, almost as if... "You've already thought this through."

She did not reply but the faint smile on her lips was answer enough.

Dikhou took a seat next to her. He needed a breather. "I can't... believe this."

"You're a smart kid, Dikhou, I knew you'd get the job."

"But... I... you..." There was so much he wanted to say, he could not find any words. "Why?"

"What do you mean, why? You're miserable here."

The guilt crept in then. "I'm not miserable," he said, miserably.

His mother opened her book and stared down at it. "And I would like to see more of the world, to be honest. I have no friends here."

"Neither do I," Lohor added casually. His shoes were untied and one of his socks was loose enough to fall in a pool around his ankle. The bag of books next to him barely contained two thin notebooks. Dikhou's mother was right. If Lohor stayed with him, he would do his best to make sure he got a better life. "What about Jiri-ba and Kopili-ba?" he asked.

"What about them?" His mother replied. "They have jobs, families, new homes. Where you stay has nothing to do with them."

Dikhou's heart was racing. "And... Baruah koka and aita?"

"They have Jatin and Priti. And I know you love them so I'm sorry to put it so bluntly but... they are not your responsibility."

Dikhou was not sure if that was supposed to sting, but it didn't. It instead tasted of relief. "I can't believe this."

"You've become such a drama queen after meeting Junak-da," Lohor added for no reason. "Get over it now and tell me when we're leaving so I can go pack."

"Right now you're going nowhere except straight to school, mister," Dikhou's mother said.

Lohor pursed his lips in annoyance, then eyed Dikhou. "I have a list of things I want with your first salary. If you tell me your budget, it'll be easier on both of us."

Dikhou chuckled without quite meaning to. He eyed the two people next to him, both pretending like uprooting their lives, moving to a whole new place, hundreds of miles away, was no big deal at all. Like they were not doing this for him.

He was probably crying again. "Thank you."