Page 28 of The Checkmate

“Dad, your new bodyguard wouldn’t let me see you.”

Dad chuckled, “No, my dear. He was just doing his job. By the way, it looks like you two have already met, but let me officially introduce you. This is Vishnu, and Vishnu, this is Meher, my daughter.”

Vishnu’s eyes softened for a brief moment, though it swiftly vanished when Dad added, “Don’t ever stop her from seeing me. She’s allowed to disturb me anytime.”

I playfully stuck my tongue out at Vishnu, feeling victorious in winning this argument. He shot me a glare in response, but Dad didn’t seem to notice and led me into the living room. I kept pestering him about our vacation plans, with Vishnu following us at a safe distance, enough to let me know that from now on, he would always accompany Dad everywhere.

My flashback is interrupted as I sense someone coming and standing beside me. I don’t need to turn around to know it’s Vishnu, my half-brother, the man who occupied my thoughts just a few moments ago. We both stand in silence, looking up at the starry sky. I remember what Aksh bhai told me earlier—Vishnu hadn’t returned home ever since the revelation that had rocked our family two days ago. But now he’s here, which means he must have received Aksh bhai’s message about my arrival. He came to see me.

A solitary tear escapes my eye. It’s as if Vishnu senses it without even looking at me. He softly breaks the silence.

“It’s okay, Meher.”

I finally turn to face him and meet his eyes.

“How could Dad do this to you? How could you allow him to treat you like this all these years? How could you, Vishnu?” I complain to him, holding back a sob.

Vishnu interrupts my onslaught of questions.

“Don’t think too much. I’m glad that I have someone who cares for me so deeply and is ready to fight her father for my rights, but it’s not worth it. Not anymore. Don’t push him for anything. Pratap Walia will never be prepared for this. He never was. And I don’t want to be the reason for a father-daughter conflict.”

I stare at him, the pain on my face mirroring the pain in his eyes. Unable to hold back, I ask, “Do you ever call him Dad?”

This question has been haunting me from the time I learned about his true place in our family. Whenever Vishnu is around, he addresses our dad as ‘Sir’ in front of everyone, and I wonder if he ever calls him ‘Dad’ when they’re alone, away from the prying eyes.

Surprised by the question, Vishnu shakes his head in denial.

“I didn’t want to make it a habit, so I stopped it decades ago.”

My heart aches for him.

“Because you never wanted to?”

“No. It’s because I have always wanted to, Meher. But what I want doesn’t matter anymore now.”

Vishnu’s reply carries the weight of years of unspoken emotions. My heart breaks on seeing him. I can no longer hold back my tears. I close the distance between us and hug him tightly, offering whatever little solace I can. I feel for him, but deep down, I know I can never truly understand or empathise with the magnitude of what he’s endured. No child should ever have to go through such a traumatic experience. It’s an unbearable burden for life. Period.

“I’m sorry,” I say on behalf of our dad, our family, and every circumstance that prevented him from being openly recognised as Pratap Walia’s firstborn, a Walia family heir.

Vishnu finally envelops me in a warm embrace, his sturdy arms encircling my back. His hand gently strokes my head as he pacifies me.

“There was a time when I longed to call him ‘Dad’ proudly in front of the world,” he says, his voice thick with pain. “But that desire faded away quickly. I don’t want to put any emotional burden on him. If I were to call him ‘Dad’, even in our private moments, he might think I’m demanding my rights that he can’t provide, and it would trouble him all the more. That’s something I don’t want to do.”

My sobs begin to subside, and I pull back to meet his gaze.

“I know he loves me,” he continues. “But he has a greater love for his career, and I’ve made peace with that. In fact, life is more perfect without any expectations from anyone; it’s less painful.”

His handling of the situation is inspirational. I can see how much he truly loves, cares and respects my father. He is an integral part of this family, and we are fortunate to have him.

“You know, Vishnu, I have always felt a different vibe from you. A vibe that assured me that someone was there, looking after me—someone I both respected and feared. I was certain that you would go to any lengths to keep me safe forever. I never mentioned this to you, but this unspoken assurance was the source of my strength, of the courage I showed to carry out those countless escapades, evading the watchful eyes of the guards. It was because I knew that, regardless of the circumstances, you wouldn’t allow any harm to befall me. I trusted that you would be there to protect me, ensuring my safety and survival.”

He offers a faint smile and brushes away my tears. His large fingers on my face feel unfamiliar, but soon, I recognise them as the protective touch of the brother I’ve always had but never knew existed.

“Let’s leave all this behind us. I don’t hold any resentment that he never acknowledged me as his son in front of the world. Life happens, Meher.”

“You don’t hate him for that?” I murmur.

“I don’t,” he says, shaking his head. “I understand the significance of having a father because I’ve yearned for him all my life. How could I ever hate him? There was a time when I desired the rights that a rightful heir should have received. But not anymore. Now, the sole purpose of my life is to protect him and this family from our adversaries and stand as his strongest support. So, if you oppose him, I’d have to stand against you, too. I don’t want that. So what if I can’t be Pratap Walia’s recognised son? I’m content with being Meher Walia’s big brother if she accepts me as such. That’s enough for me. I’m even ready to endure her husband’s high and mighty attitude for my entire life.”

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