Modern Slaves

Home

I arrived at the place around 2 pm, after driving for hours through the dusty roads. Stepping out of my car, I welcomed the warm embrace of the sun, its radiant rays casting a comforting glow on my skin. As I surveyed the scene, an elderly figure caught my eye, hobbling towards me with surprising speed despite her frail appearance. It was my aunt, my Father's Brother's wife, her once vibrant features now worn and weathered by time. Her eyes welled up with tears as she reached me, her trembling hands reaching out to caress my face, as if I were still a child. Despite her gestures of affection, I felt nothing but a hollow emptiness inside. Though she had once been a comforting presence in my life, her presence now served as a painful reminder of the family ties I had long abandoned. 

As I stood there, grappling with my own sense of detachment, another woman emerged from the gathering crowd. Clad in a white sari, her demeanor was somber, her eyes swollen with grief. She approached me tentatively, her voice tinged with a mixture of surprise and hope as she uttered my name, "Akhil?" Her words hung in the air, laden with unspoken questions and expectations. "We've been waiting for you," she continued, her tone betraying a hint of hurt and confusion. My mind raced as I struggled to make sense of the situation. Who was this woman, and why did she seem to expect me? Her next words provided the answer I dreaded to hear. "I'm your brother's wife. We got married two years ago," she explained, her words landing like a heavy blow to my already burdened conscience. The revelation left me reeling, my mind scrambling to process the implications of this newfound information. How could I have been so oblivious to such a significant event in my own brother's life? The weight of guilt and regret bore down on me with crushing force, threatening to overwhelm me entirely. With a heavy heart, I followed her towards the gathering at the house, my footsteps slow and reluctant. As we approached, I could see the solemn faces of my brother's relatives, their expressions a mix of sorrow and expectation.

 The air was heavy with the weight of grief, the atmosphere thick with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. I felt like a stranger in my own skin, an outsider intruding upon a world I no longer belonged to. As I crossed the threshold into the house, I couldn't help but wish for a way to turn back time,

to undo the years of estrangement and missed opportunities. But deep down, I knew that some wounds could never be healed, some bridges could never be rebuilt. All I could do now was face the consequences of my choices and confront the ghosts of my past, no matter how daunting the task may be.

It was the sixth day following the demise of my brother. As I stepped into the familiar confines of our house, a wave of nostalgia washed over me. His presence seemed to linger in the air, a silent testament to the years we had spent together. The hall was expansive, adorned with three plush sofas and a diwan coat, their arrangement echoing the countless memories we had created in this space. A small LCD TV was affixed to the wall adjacent to the window, its screen reflecting the muted daylight.

The chill of the marble floor seeped through the soles of my feet, a stark contrast to the warmth of the memories that flooded my mind. To the right of the grand staircase stood Jithin, my cousin. His face broke into a vacant smile as our eyes met. Our childhood days flashed before my eyes - the wrestling matches on the bed, the laughter echoing through the rooms, the day the bed gave way under our combined weight, and the scolding that followed from our mother. A smile tugged at my lips as I returned his greeting.

I proceeded to the bedroom adjacent to the staircase, setting down my bag with a sigh. A voice echoed from outside, "Maya". It took me a moment to realize that it was my brother's wife they were calling. She turned to look at me, her eyes meeting mine before she suggested I freshen up. "Okay, Chechi," I responded. She moved a step closer, her eyes welling up with unshed tears, "Your brother loved you a lot," she confessed, her voice barely a whisper.