In His Custody ✎ (MaNan)

✰ 2 - stab and be stabbed

"I – I can't believe it sometimes, that he's my blood,"

"Well, he isn't... that's half the problem right there, we can't take responsibility for something we don't consider ours to begin with." Marvelled by my own spontaneously wise quote, I turned to the wise old man resting in his seat deep in contemplation.

Humility exuded every gesture of his even when he barely tried; in my eyes, he was the pinnacle of a successful businessman, who had been through his share of tough times and hence valued his growth more so. Even in his early sixties, the thrill and steadfast dedication the man had for his business stole the limelight of his praises.

The only current setback in his life, the only ugliness in his life currently, was his adopted arrogant son.

Arrogance was always a trait Manik possessed, but over the last eight years, it had reacted with other insecurities and had become corrosive, to say the least, leaching its poison into other aspects and people of his life. God forbid the day his toxicity consumes his girlfriend.

"I am not forcing him to take over the business like other fathers in Bollywood movies, I've always given him the freedom to pursue what he wants but if he's waiting for an opportunity to be served on a silver platter, I'm sorry – the real world does not work that way,"

"What do you mean, Manik's gotten offers but has rejected them?"

"You know he insists on going solo." While I was not certain what his crazy obsession was behind playing or singing alone after years of being coddled and affirmed by our friend group even for taking a shit, several of his taunts to me fell under the umbrella of me being a chameleon – changing colours and sides as and when I pleased – and he got a kick out of my agitated reactions every now and then.

Mr. Malhotra continued, "Ashok Khurana has offered to sign him on along with a band but I know His Majesty will refuse if I pitch him the deal."

"By Khurana, you mean Q Label?! Holy shit, that's insane! They're a global record company!"

He grinned, appreciative of my background knowledge of them and contrasting reactions to his beloved cocky son's. "And they're wanting to launch in Mumbai. Wait a minute – do you want me to talk to them and get you onboard?"

"Is that a rhetorical question? Heck YEAH!" Who would ever say no to going back to my home city, the city that never sleeps... Mumbai! Using my fingers as a makeshift hairbrush, I ran my fingers from the roots to the ends, repeatedly going over the caramel-streaked tips so as to set them in place. "Don't you worry – it's Mumbai and he's got some paybacks to do, Manik can't say no this time."

⭒⭒⭒

Manik

The magical trance music has is that by the time you find yourself drowning in the melody of melancholy, or to the tune of harmony in exhilaration, one has already exited the earthly realm and is at least halfway spiritually connected to a power above and beyond their control.

I needed to be in a dingy storeroom comprising of infinite nothingness. To soundproof myself from the rest of the world, my emotions, and my thoughts, I pressed the 'volume up' button on my iPhone until I could no longer hear my pounding heartbeat.

Isn't it strange

That we've fallen apart

My feet tapped to the beats of the soothing song that somehow numbed me from the grief, taking me back to the unsettling feelings I had within while coming to terms with myself. Every song had a memory associated with it; in those, and only those, things I truly surrendered.