1. Funeral

It was the time for the cremation of Mrs. Leena Raichand. She was lying lifeless on the pyre while a few people from the family surrounded her.

The atmosphere was tragic, and the scenery complimented the feeling of grief. A barren ground on the Riverside. The weather was cloudy, while the chirping of birds could be heard minutely. The silence was scattered all around except the chanting of the pandit ji, who was fulfilling the rituals before she would be cremated.

The lifeless woman was adorned with beautiful ornaments and looked like a bride, except for the fact, that she wasn't. People surrounding her looked upset, but the lack of tears didn't explain their grief. Their expressions, in turn, explained how dear was she to all of them.

"Mr. Raichand, we shall proceed further," the pandit ji spoke as he was done chanting the mantras.

Mr. Raichand quietly nodded as he picked up a piece of the wooden log which was lit with fire and proceeded towards the pyre. He looked upset and why he won't be? He had lost his wife.

He went near her wife's corpse and had a final glance of her wife's lifeless face. A drop of tear escaped through his eyes as he gave fire to her wife and stepped back.

Within minutes, the pyre was engulfed by fire as it burnt, releasing humongous flames. 

The people surrounding the pyre sobbed silently as they saw the body turning into ashes slowly.

After six hours,

Mr. Raichand was picking up the ashes from her dead wife's pyre into a sacred pot. The other people who accompanied him for the cremation ritual went home while he was there, all by himself.

That's when the siren of a police van could be heard as the van entered the barren land. A couple of police officers got out of the van and proceeded towards the man who just lost his wife.

"Mr. Raichand," one of the police officers addressed him.

"Yes?" He responded, without even looking at them, focusing on collecting the ashes.

"We want to discuss something related to your wife's death," the officer responded.

"I don't want a case, officer," Mr. Raichand responded.

"But," 

"I don't want any kind of trauma inflicted on my son and my old mother. My son loved her mother way too much so as my mom. They lost someone close to them, and I don't want them to be bothered for a case," Mr. Raichand responded, interrupting the officer in between.

"The case is necessary as we are suspicious that your wife has been murdered," the officer responded.

"Even if it's murder, I don't want a case," Mr. Raichand growled.

His voice was deep enough to even scare the police officers. They couldn't even figure out when they took a couple of steps behind when he growled.

"The money will reach you on time. You may leave now," Mr. Raichand muttered, composing himself.

"Hmm," the officer nodded and everyone went back to the jeep.

Mr. Raichand picked up the sacred pot, covered it with a red piece of cloth, and walked towards his jeep. He showed no emotions on his face as he walked towards the jeep.

He got into the jeep and drove away from there.

There was a huge mansion on the outskirts of the city of Kolkata. The mansion was guarded by many armed bodyguards. The essence of the atmosphere was the same as the cremation ground. It was the Raichand Villa.

The members of the family were gathered in the hall, as they were silently sobbing, expressing the pain they were felt due to the loss of a family member.

The eight-year-old kid was crying for his mother. Little did he know that her mother would never return to him anymore. His grandmother and aunt tried to console him, but he wasn't in a state to understand, he just kept on crying more and more.

As they were trying their best to console the little kid, the man who lost his wife entered the house. The boy spotted his father and immediately rushed to him.

"Papa, where is mummy?" The boy cried while complaining to his father.

"She won't return anymore. Learn to live without her," Mr. Raichand replied in a firm tone and walked towards his room.

Everyone present in the hall was shocked at the way he treated his son. They kept on looking at him while he was walking towards his room while the kid cried loudly.

At last, his mother got up from the seat and followed his son.

"Rajveer," the mother mumbled as she entered his son's room.

"Maa, leave me alone please," Rajveer turned towards his mother.

"How did you treat Ved? Did he deserve that? He lost his mother, you should have consoled him," the mother scolded his son.

"He is a boy, maa. He needs to learn the truth and grow up. He should be strong, not a crying mess," Rajveer responded.

"Look at you, the way you're behaving. You lost your wife," the mother growled.

"Yes, and I cremated her. Enough of grieving now, let's get back to our normal lives. I have much work to attend," he retorted in the same tone.

"Why are you so inhuman?" The mother muttered under her breath as she walked out of the room.

Rajveer Raichand

A forty-year-old man who is considered to be heartless and cold. He married on his mother's will 10 years ago and now has an eight-year-old son, named Ved. Although he is the CEO of Raichand textiles, people consider him to be involved in the underworld. Some of them even claim that he is the mafia king of East India, but nothing could be proved yet.

On the streets of the slum beside the railway tracks, a girl was walking towards her home with a packet of medicines in her hand. 

She looked scared and worried as she hurried towards her home. It felt like she wanted to reach home as soon as possible.

"Hey, fatso, come here," a guy whistled while teasing her as she was crossing the road.

She looked towards them, there were six boys sitting in front of a small house, chilling and playing cards. The guys were looking at her and laughing.

The scene scared her more as she swallowed her tears and increased the pace of her footsteps. She looked around in fear as she felt insecure. She hurried towards her home, and while walking, she felt like all the eyes were fixed on her and this made her uncomfortable.

After escaping from the guys who did nothing except catcalling her she finally reached the end of the street. She looked at the small, clumsy house on the corner of the street and entered the house.

"Maa, I have brought baba's medicines," she announced as she entered the house.

"So? Should I dance?" The mother responded, coming out of the room. 

"I didn't mean that," she responded in a low tone, looking at the ground.

"Like I do care?" She snapped.

"Sorry," she mumbled.

"Do one thing, give the medicines to your baba, cook for everyone, clean the house, I am leaving for work and I will be late today. There is a party in madam's house so I have to serve them," the mother announced.

"Ok," she quietly nodded and entered the room from where her mother came out.

The house was small, one room, a verandah attached with a kitchen and a bathroom. Four people took shelter in that small house, which included the girl, her parents, and her elder brother.

"Baba, I have brought your medicines, have it and you will see how you get fit soon," the girl chirped as she sat beside her father who was bedridden. 

Her father met with an accident that left him paralyzed for the rest of his life. But this didn't let the hope die in the girl's heart that her father won't get well soon. He was her best friend after all.

"Diya, I am leaving. Make sure to be done with the chores," the mother shouted as she walked out of the house.

Diya nodded at her mother's words as she took out the medicines and fed them to her father.

After she was done, she got up and picked up the broom as started sweeping the floor with it. After she was done with sweeping, she walked towards the kitchen and started chopping the vegetables to make food for everyone.

That's when someone entered the house.

"Diyu"

The voice made her jump in excitement as she whispered, "Bhaiya"

She immediately got out of the kitchen and went to the verandah where her elder brother was removing his shoes.

"Bhaiya, you're home," she jumped in excitement as she sat beside him.

"Yes, I am," her brother caressed her hairs.

"Diyu, I have brought something for you," Daksh, her elder brother muttered as he was done removing the shows.

"What?" She asked in sheer excitement.

Daksh then took out a packet that was kept beside him and opened it. The moment Diya saw that she was surprised while her eyes were filled with tears.

"Happy eighteenth birthday, Diyu," Daksh whispered as he presented a cupcake to her little sister.

"You remembered?" She looked at him in surprise.

"How can I forget my little sister's birthday?" He smiled.

This little gesture from Daksh made Diya extremely happy as she immediately grabbed the cupcake.

She took a bite of the cupcake in excitement and looked at her brother.

"It's yummy," she responded like a kid while her brother smiled looking at her sister's happiness.

Diya Mallick

An eighteen-year-old girl who lives in the slums situated beside the railway tracks of Kolkata. She is an innocent girl who is pure at heart and wants to make her family happy. But with that innocence, she has a lot of insecurities and fears buried deep inside of her. Few of those insecurities arise from one thing, she is on the heavier side due to which people tend to bully and make fun of her.

"Diyu," Daksh mumbled after a while when she was done devouring the cupcake.

"Yes?" She asked, looking at him.

"What do you want as a birthday gift?" He asked.

"I want to join college. I wanna study and get a job," Diya immediately responded as she thought about her dreams.

"You want to pursue graduation?" Daksh asked, a little surprised.

"Yes, if we can afford that," Diya frowned as she remembered the fact that her family can't afford her studies.

Daksh smiled as he looked at Diya.

"If my sister wants anything, she will get it. I will arrange the money," Daksh spoke.

"How?"

"I will ask my boss for a loan," Daksh answered, after thinking for a while.

"Who is your boss?" Diya immediately questioned out of curiosity.

"Mr. Rajveer Raichand," Daksh responded.