The Binding String

O N E - H U N D R E D

"For everything you have done for us. I know we have troubled you alot."

"You have done nothing darling and we are a family. Ain't we?"

"Yes, we are. If bhiya didn't come that day than none of us would be alive." Sarika's throat went heavy and teared up recalling the horrifying night.

"Don't think about it dear, let bygones be bygones. We were sick and worried when they shifted you on the ventilator. That night was heavy for us, even Rohit was restless throughout the night."

"But I wasn't bhabhi. When Deepak pointed a gun at me, I was somehow assured that Rohit was going to be bought up by you and Bhiya." Sarika wiped her tears.

"How can we let you happen? Yes we love him a lot but no one can love him as you and Romi and don't be sad thinking about the consequences. We should be thankful to God for what we have. Haina?"

"Yes!!! But handling Rohit and Roohi altogether must be tough for you. Roohi is not used to a small child and now Rohit must be throwing her all the things here and there." Ishita laughed aloud remembering about the little lad antiques who are giving tough time to Roohi and Oreo. It's common for him to pull Oreo tail or throw his didi toys here and there and no one can scold him because the moment you try to scold him, he makes a puppy face which can melt anyone, even Roohi.

“Mummmmmaaaaaaaa!! He’s doing it again!”

Both Sarika and Ishita ears alerted, she left the clothes and rushed out to find her daughter standing like a warrior princess, fists clenched, nostrils flaring, and eyes locked on her tiny cousin—who sat innocently on the carpet with... half of her favorite coloring book page crumpled in his hand and a green crayon in his mouth.

Rohit blinked up at them, gurgled, and then ripped another page for good measure.

Ishita gasped. "Rohit! No—no no, beta—"

But before she could reach him, Roohi let out a scandalized scream, ran to the kitchen, and came back dragging a small empty pedal-bin.

"I warned him, Mumma! I told him nicely!" she declared, holding the bin like it was a trophy. "Now he’s going in."

"Roohi, wait—no one’s going in any bin!"

"He tore Princess Meera’s rainbow dress! That’s a book murder!"

Romi, half-limping into the room, burst out laughing. "Book murder? Whose child is this?"

"Yours," Ishita deadpanned. "Clearly yours."

Roohi grabbed Rohit under his arms—who, delighted at the attention, started giggling—and began dragging him toward the bin.

Rohit thought it was a game. He squealed in joy and flailed his arms.

"Roohi!" Ishita called, stifling her laughter, "He’s a baby, not garbage!"

"But Mumma, rules are rules! Even kings go to jail when they break them. Ask Dadi! She told me in the story last night."

Santhosh, watching from the couch with a bowl of popcorn, nodded wisely. Well technically, she’s not wrong. Fair justice system."

"No jaan! He is too young to understand, leave him for now and I promise I am ordering the new princess sketchpad right at the moment."

As Roohi sulked with her arms crossed, Raman appeared from behind the newspaper, sipping his coffee. "What is this chaos going around?" Raman disappeared himself in his study room since morning decided to show some mercy on his wife and walked along his newspaper.

"Roohi is trying to throw Rohit in the dustbin because he tore her sketchpad."

"Remind me to never cross her," he whispered. "Main toh is dustbin mein ghus bhi nahi paunga." And everyone laughed on his comment including little Rohit whereas Roohi continued to glare at the little lad. Few minutes later, the little one crawled back to Roohi and handed her a crumbled piece of paper.