The next morning, Sumendu and Diya woke up with heavy heads, still reeling from shock and disbelief. What had truly transpired the previous day felt almost like a dream—completely surreal and utterly unbelievable. Sumendu, in particular, was shaken to the core by what he had seen. Diya too was deeply unsettled, struggling to process everything that had happened.
They had breakfast quietly with Diya's parents, the atmosphere at the table unusually subdued. After finishing, they decided to visit the nearby Hanuman temple, a place well known in the area as a wish-fulfilling shrine.
Just as they were getting ready to leave, loud voices suddenly came from Diya's father's bedroom. He was speaking to her mother in a raised tone—something Diya had rarely, if ever, heard before. Curious and concerned, Diya and Sumendu quietly tiptoed into the hall and sat down on the sofa where they could hear the conversation. Each of them picked up a newspaper, pretending to read while secretly listening.
What they overheard shocked them both.
Diya's father was saying loudly that during the upcoming New Year festival—just two days away on Sunday—he intended to visit Sumendu's father and settle "this issue" once and for all. Diya's mother urged him to calm down, and soon their conversation dropped to hushed whispers. After about fifteen minutes, the discussion ended.
Sensing the moment, Diya and Sumendu quickly slipped back into Diya's room, pretending they had heard nothing.
A few minutes later, Diya's father stepped out of the bedroom, picked up his office bag, and walked straight out of the house. The familiar sound of his old Lambretta scooter echoed as he kick-started it and sped off to work.
Meanwhile, Diya's mother quietly moved into the kitchen and began clearing the breakfast plates.
Sensing that something serious was going on, Diya and Sumendu decided it was time to find out the truth. They walked into the kitchen together. Diya stood beside her mother, who looked visibly upset, and gently placed an arm around her shoulder.
That small gesture broke the dam.
Her mother suddenly burst out in frustration.
"What was the need for your father to accept that invitation and go there?" she exclaimed.
Diya was completely confused. What could possibly be wrong with her father visiting cousin Sumendu's house?
She held her mother close as tears began to flow. Within moments, her mother was sobbing uncontrollably. Diya said nothing—she simply held her until the first wave of emotion subsided.
Once her mother had calmed down a little, Diya softly said she would make coffee for all three of them. She asked her mother and Sumendu to sit at the dining table.
While they awkwardly tried to make small talk, Diya prepared three cups of steaming hot coffee and brought them to the table. Sitting down beside them, she gently placed her hand over her mother's and asked quietly,
"What's the matter, Ma?"
Her mother took a deep breath before slowly beginning to speak.
"It was that time of the year," she said. "The time when our New Year was approaching. You and Sumendu were just one or two years old then. Your father and your uncle—Sumendu's father—had decided to meet for the celebrations. It had been two years since they had both lost their father, and this was the first time they were meeting again after the mourning period."
She paused briefly before continuing.
"As your father and I entered your uncle's house, carrying you in my arms, the first person we crossed paths with was the village sarpanch. He was leaving in a hurry."
"When our eyes met, I immediately felt something was wrong. A strange, uneasy feeling came over me. I looked at your father and said, 'This doesn't feel right.'"
"But your father simply laughed and dismissed my concern."
'Don't be silly,' he said. 'He must have come here for some work.'
And with that, he brushed aside my uneasy feeling."