Project Heart - Chapter 14: Chapter 14

"AITA!!" Junak shouted, running towards the house. "Aita, aita, aita!"
"I'm here, I'm here." His grandmother stepped out into the backyard, smiling. "Aiyo, I sent you to watch but it seems like joined them?" she exclaimed, eyeing her grandson. After getting out of the freezing water, he had discarded his wet shirt and wrapped one of his grandfather's heavy shawls around himself, but his pants were still wet and water dripped from his hair and onto his shoulders.
"Yes. Dikhou taught me how to fish!" Junak was so giddy with excitement, he could barely stand still. "And I caught one. Jatin, show her, show her, show her."
The young man chuckled and walked up to Grandma. He held a bucket in his hands, inside of which were over a dozen fish. "Junak-da caught this one," he pointed at a half-dead fish looking no different from the rest.
"Waah, it's so big," Grandma exclaimed. "Well done, my son."
Junak beamed. His chest felt light and his heart was warm. He briefly glanced at Dikhou who stood a few feet away, smiling at him. When Dikhou felt the latter's gaze on him, he winked and shot him a thumbs up.
Junak blamed the flush in his cheeks to the euphoria from fish-catching.
"What is going on here?" Banhi asked, lazily walking out of the house. She was wearing a worn-out hoodie over grey sweatpants and her hair was messily tied up in a bun. Walking up behind her was Priti, in a mekhela sador and light green sweater. Both of them were smiling curiously.
Junak ran up to them. "I caught a fish!" He grabbed Banhi by the arm and pulled her towards the bucket full of fish while beckoning at Priti to follow them. "This one. I caught this one. With my bare hands."
"What do you mean bare hands?" Banhi said.
"I mean bare hands." He wriggled his fingers in front of her face. They smelled disgusting.
"No!"
"Yes!"
Banhi laughed. "Oh my god!"
Junak puffed out his chest in pride.
"Well, pick it up, then! Imma take a picture."
That Junak spent the next five minutes holding a disgusting-looking half-dead fish next to his face and posing for the camera did not seem to bother anyone. Rather, his joy was contagious, with Grandma, Dikhou, Priti and Jatin all smiling at him.
The photoshoot was finally brought to an end when Dikhou announced his leave.
"Wait, wait, take the fish and go," Grandma said.
Junak held his own fish in both hands and watched as his grandmother went through the pile of fish in the bucket. She kept one for herself and distributed the rest between Dikhou, Jatin and Priti. All three of them tried to bargain down the number of fishes they received but Grandma shooed them away.
As Dikhou made to leave, he paused to smile at Junak. "See ya?" he said.
Junak's stomach did some weird flip. "Y-Yeah. See you."
Banhi coughed loudly into her fist, then raised a hand and said, "I'll see you too."
Junak shoved his elbow into her arm after Dikhou awkwardly nodded and walked away. Oh my god, she mouthed, dramatically.
Before Junak could retort to that with all forms of denial, his grandmother said, "Do you want to go show your fish to your grandfather, Junak?"
"Yes!"
Grandma chuckled. "Go. He's outside, on the front porch. And then change out of those clothes, okay? You'll fall sick."
"Yes, aita." Holding the fish by the tail, he skipped through the house, towards the porch.
His grandfather was sitting on a high chair made from cane, reading a book. He looked up when he heard Junak approach.
The young man raised the fish and grinned. "Look, look, I caught a fish."
"Well done, Niyor."
For a moment, Junak thought he had heard wrong. But then he watched his grandfather's expression twisting into one of pain and regret and his smile vanished. "Junak," the old man added hastily. "I meant to say Junak."
All of Junak's excitement went up in flames and he stood frozen in his spot. He felt cold all of a sudden and the realisation that he was still drenched seemed to dawn on him only now.
Grandpa sighed, sounding exceedingly tired. "I don't – it was a slip of tongue, do forgive me. You look – you look a lot like your father and he used to love fishing."
This was Junak's cue to shrug it off, say it's okay and walk away. But in front of him, he saw a stranger who was supposed to be his flesh and blood and an impossible ache settled over his chest.
All Junak had ever wanted was someone who understood him. And if anyone could understand the abandon he struggled with, it was this old man connected to him by a single frayed thread. He was his grandfather, his kin. And here, many miles away from home, the possibility of having a family was closer to Junak's grasp than it had ever been. It would be foolish to let it go.
So, he walked up to his grandfather and sat down on a wooden stool next to him. "Koka," he breathed, his own voice sounding alien to him. "Will you tell me about my father?"
Grandpa looked at him. "What do you mean?"
The words flowed out like water fleeing from a broken dam – uncontrollable and reckless. "I don't really know my father. He... we... we rarely meet. And never... really talk. He doesn't know me and I don't – I don't know him."
Grandpa sighed then. He leaned back on the chair and rested the now-closed book on his lap. "Do you hate him, Junak?"
"No." The answer came without hesitation. "Of course, not. I know that he – he loves us. Me. Whatever he does, it's for me and Puhor-da." He concluded to look at his grandfather as if seeking validation.
The older man nodded, like he understood.
Neither spoke after that. They sat side by side, staring out into the wide front lawn lush with grass and flower beds. The sun was bright overhead. Insects and birds chirped all around them. A few butterflies played near the steps of the porch.
When Junak's grandfather finally broke the silence, his voice was the weakest Junak had ever heard. "You wouldn't understand this, yet, but being a father is... it's not easy. And I... I've made mistakes. Mistakes that, I'm afraid, you're having to pay for."
It was the first time, out of the blue, that Junak was realising how old his grandfather was; he looked frail and weak. His hands were shivering slightly on his lap and his shoulders seemed hunched with the weight of all his years.
"I underestimated him, your father. Your uncle and aunts are... very academically gifted. And they were very ambitious from the start. Every parent was jealous of me, you know. But Niyor... well, he was different. And I couldn't appreciate it till it was too late."
Junak looked down at the unmoving fish clutched between his pruned fingers. He felt numb.
"I was too hard on him. I never valued the decisions he made. I was too involved in his life." Grandpa let out a shaky breath. "Do you see a pattern, Junak?"
The younger man frowned.
"Niyor is trying to be a better father."
"But he's never there." Junak was unable to hide the distaste from his words, the resignation in his voice.
"For him, this is independence, you see? Freedom. Things that he always wanted but I never gave him."
Junak's breath hitched. It wasn't the first time he was hearing it – his friends would constantly claim they were jealous of how unintrusive his parents are, how they could have parties at his house without worries, or how he didn't have to struggle with some mindless degree like they were because his parents were cool with him studying filmmaking.
"Don't hate him. He's just trying his best to give you everything he couldn't have."
Among the hundred emotions swirling through Junak, so many and so confusing that he couldn't tell one from the other, he felt anger. Or at least, he thought he did. He wanted to be angry. He wanted to complain that he never asked for these things, but then he remembered how he did love his freedom; he never had to worry about money or other petty things like lying to his parents. Once, he was at a party raided by the cops for underage drinking and his father just sat him down for five minutes and asked him to be responsible. His friends were grounded for weeks. When his mother found out about his girlfriend, instead of throwing some fit, she asked him to be nice to her and invite her for lunch one day. The lunch never happened, but he appreciated the sentiment – well, he didn't appreciate it then (too mad at his elder brother for snitching to their mother) but he was appreciating it now.
A thought crossed his mind, one so new and so strange and so frightening, it chilled his bones: what if he was a bad son?
And as if like a sign from the universe, his grandfather said, "Niyor was a good son but I was too swallowed up by pride to see it. I never made his life easy. I thought I was doing the right thing – I wanted him to study like his siblings and get a good job. I saw first-hand the status and respect one gets from a government job like mine and I wanted that for him."
Of course, Junak could figure out the rest. It was one of the most commonly told stories after all.
"He wanted to start his own business. Something about resorts. It sounded ridiculous." Grandpa rested his head on the chair, letting out a tired sigh. "We are old people, Junak. We cannot keep pace with the world. Though I'm sure that's mostly an excuse we old people use." He chuckled, then sighed again. "I should've supported him. I know it now."
Junak started at him, wide-eyed, his mind a mess of conflicting thoughts. "What happened?"
"He was determined to start the business and wanted to pawn a part of our land. I refused; it was ancestral property and I was sure he was going to fail. We fought over it and he walked out and... things were never the same after that."
"Is that why... we never visit anymore?"
The old man nodded, the slightest dip of his head. Then, he asked, "Did Dikhou tell you anything?"
Junak's heart lurched at the mere mention of his name. "No. What?"
"His father, Luit, and Niyor were best friends. When I... when I refused to help him, Luit stepped up. He took a loan against most of his farmland."
Cold dread crawled up Junak's throat.
"I warned Luit against it but of course he sided with his best friend. Especially since he had seen me undermine Niyor for years."
"W-What happened?"
"It didn't work out. Their venture went under, Luit lost the land."
"No..."
"Apparently, it did not bother Luit. He wanted to push forward and invest somewhere else. But... I don't know what happened exactly, no one does except your father, but he and Luit had some argument. Luit was returning from Guwahati when he... he met with an accident and..."
Junak was breathing through his mouth. His throat was dry and he felt the sting of tears behind his eyes. Dikhou's accusatory words came back to him and with it came new-formed disgust for his father. "He... he abandoned his best friend's family after that, didn't he?"
If Grandpa noticed the quiver in Junak's voice, he didn't react to it. "Nibha, Dikhou's mother, doesn't talk about it but I know Niyor paid her for the land some years later. But he... he stopped coming here. Cut all ties with... everybody in the village."
Junak was clutching his mouth to bite back a sob. His ears were ringing with Dikhou's words and he could see Dikhou in his mind's eyes – laughing soundlessly or scowling at Junak, or...
The way Dikhou talked animatedly to Lohor.
The way Dikhou looked while playing the dhool.
The way Dikhou winked and shot Junak thumbs-up.
Dikhou's one-dimpled smile, his polite nods in front of elders, his mischievous smirk, the way he said Jun.
Dikhou. Dikhou. Dikhou. Dikhou. Dikhou.
Junak knew his father's sins were not his to bear but he couldn't help but feel sickeningly awful.
"W-Why is Dikhou nice to me then?" The question slipped out seemingly on its own.
Grandpa looked surprised, but then he smiled – it was a small thing, but it felt warm. "You are not your father. Neither is he his."
It sounded right, those simple words, but they also felt wrong. "But–"
"If there's any advice you would be willing take from this flawed old man, then take this: bygones are bygones and they should be left as such. Life is too short to keep dwelling on things we cannot change. And this is especially true in your case because what happened had nothing to do with you. I'm sure Dikhou knows this. I know he doesn't blame you for what your father did."
Junak did not reply. He could not.
His grandfather reached out to play a trembling hand on his shoulder. "Listen, Junak. I did not tell you this because I want you to fix it or something. Neither do I want you to carry this burden, because believe me, it's not yours to bear.
"Dikhou is a... he's a good kid, despite his mischiefs. He's sensitive too and he's definitely not an idiot. If he had any ill feelings, he wouldn't be here. He has no obligations to be. He's around you because he enjoys your company. Trust your heart and let bygones be bygones."
Junak nodded then, looking up at his grandfather. They had the same long nose and softly arched eyes.
"That I couldn't see you and Puhor grow up was my punishment, you know?" The older man was smiling despite the pain evident in his words. "But I'm really glad you're here now, Junak."
When it came to it, saying those words was one of the easiest things Junak had ever done. "I'm glad to be here too, koka."