"An Unconventional Commitment"

Anubhav

◍⁠•𝑨𝑵𝑼𝑩𝑯𝑨𝑽'𝑺 𝑷𝑶𝑽•⁠◍

After the joyful birthday celebrations, it was finally time for us to depart. Haseena had made her rounds, speaking with Daimaa and the staff about the formalities of my donation pledge. This morning, my lawyer had arrived with all the official paperwork.

Now, Haseena and I went to collect Aarush from where he played, still reveling in the euphoria of the day's festivities with the other children.

"Come, Aarush, ghar jaane ka waqt ho gaya hai," I called out, trying to keep my tone light and upbeat.

But the little boy adamantly shook his head, clinging onto Ved's hand with unexpected determination. "Nahi, Papa," he stated firmly, mustering that tiny voice I so rarely heard.

I felt my brows rise in surprise. "Kyu nahi, Aarush?"

His response knocked the wind from my lungs. "Friend...Sath rehna."

Comprehension dawned slowly as I registered the weight behind those two simple words. Aarush had finally, miraculously, made his first genuine friend - and he wasn't ready to let that bond go just yet.

"Lekin Aarush," I tried to reason, "ghar mein sab aapka wait kar rahe hai, Choti Dadi and Dadu, Bua, Chachu...even Badi Dadi."

His small face crumpled stubbornly, tenacious grip on Ved's hand never faltering as he reiterated his desire to remain with his newfound companion. For a moment, I was at an utter loss.

Then, a solution struck me. "Listen, Aarush," I began again, squatting down to his eye level. "Aaj jaise Nidhi ke birthday pe aap aaye vaise hi hum aapke birthday mai bhi sabko bulayenge aur ved ko toh specially invite karenge, fir aap sab ghar mein khelna."

Aarush seemed to consider my proposal, that furrow of childish defiance softening somewhat. Pressing my temporary advantage, I continued, "Aur na aapko jab bhi ved se milne ka mann ho bata dena mai le aunga?"

Finally, the fight drained from his eyes and he nodded once in resigned agreement. With clear reluctance, he released Ved's hand, murmuring a soft, "Bye, friend," and enveloped the other boy in an impulsive hug.

As Aarush pulled away, Ved gave him a reassuring pat. "Aarush udas mat ho bhaiya phir se ayenge phir hum milenge aur khub khelenge." From his pocket, the older boy procured a coveted toffee, pressing the sweet treat into Aarush's palm as a parting gift.

I watched the tender exchange between the two newly-minted friends, feeling an uncharacteristic lump burn in my throat. Against all odds, my once-muted son had forged his first link to the outside world, unlocking a key part of himself that had remained barricaded since the devastating tragedy.

Gratitude toward Haseena - for providing this avenue, this uncommon environment that catalyzed Aarush's remarkable progress - swelled within me. But I temporarily smothered the burgeoning emotion, focused on getting my child home.

After bidding farewell to Daimaa and the other orphans, I guided Aarush out to the car, securing him in his carseat in the backseat. Unsurprisingly, exhaustion from the day's overload of social exertion had lulled him into a light slumber by the time I joined Haseena in the front.

The drive home was silent apart from Haseena's occasional soothing murmurs directed toward the slumbering Aarush. I stole glances at the pair through the rearview mirror, a strange sense of contentment warming my chest at their obvious bond.

As we arrived, I swiftly exited and moved to retrieve my sleeping son, but Haseena had already deftly unbuckled him, cradling his tiny form against her protectively. Before disappearing inside with her precious cargo, she paused to meet my gaze - and utter words that struck me like a physical blow: