Ashu’s Revenge

I am going to meet my father today, my biological father, after almost 21 years. I vaguely remember the day he left. There was screaming, my Mom was…crying, yelling. I couldn’t actually understand what was going on; I was only 4, then. I never saw or heard from my ‘papa’ again.1

I don’t know what had happened between them, but I am a smart woman today. And I know for sure it was a one-sided decision, no matter what my Mom keeps telling me. 2

My mom worked at a bank, taking on extra shifts whenever necessary. As far as I can remember, I have had a comfortable life, doing chores around the house, topping every class and small celebrations on birthdays.3

I, Ashwini, fondly called ‘Ashu’, am software engineer. Past year I have been working for an MNC. Though we had to move to Bangalore for my job, Mom is happy, proud even, but especially she's much more relaxed now.4

Thus, one day I decided that there was no better time than the present. So I researched and found out, my ‘papa’ was now, in fact, enjoying a pleasant life in Lonavala, a tiny hill-station near Mumbai. I gathered whatever information I could from his known friends and started on my mission5

I hired a car in Mumbai and planned to drive to my destination. If I was not as nervous, I would have noticed the blissful green hills, pleated with bubbly white streaks of water.6

A small town, I quickly found out where my ‘papa’, who was known as the ‘Sharma Saheb’ to Lonavla residents, lived.7

Rain is pouring down heavily and I can barely see the road. It's early evening, but yet it's already almost dark. I am not a superstitious person by nature, but when a black cat suddenly crosses my path on the stormy night, I skid to a halt and get a sour feeling. I take a few deep breaths, tell myself I was being stupid and everything would be fine, over and over. It doesn't help much but I steel myself and drive on.8

By the time I reach the location, it is raining heavily. I am soaked to skin, even as I run to the porch. I am able to make out the bungalow’s red bricks as lightening strikes with small intervals. 9

It is a house that no one could miss. Sort of old, Tudor styled, it was much bigger than most in town. There is a large wooden swing that seems antique.10

Door is opened by a man in late 50s, who has quite an impressive built and his thick dark hair is streaked with grey. His welcoming smile sends chills down my spine and give me the creeps. It takes all I have to not turn around and run away. 11

Both of us a standing there, staring at each other when I see a flash of recognition in his eyes, but I could be wrong. Afterall, how could he know who I was?12

I am invited in and I tell him who I was. It's weird to see his face glow with pleasant surprise. But I remain stern. I am not here for his love. I don’t want affection, I want revenge.13

So I pull out my gun and point it right at him. He pales as if he was seeing a ghost. 14

Just, then a girl walks out from one of rooms, about sixteen. She has a dead look in her eyes, but a huge grin has lightened up her face. She is holding a walking stick.15

“Papa, who are you talking to?” 16

I could hear my heart beat even on thunderous, stormy night.17

My ‘papa’ speaks with much effort, “Just a friend, Ashu, just a friend.”18

I am rooted to the spot, stunned, still holding the gun. 19