Only after she took a shower and completed the evening puja did Bhairavi enter her room. Summer was lying fast asleep and she wondered if the cat did anything but sleep throughout the day, all alone in an empty house. Feeling bad for her, she fussed and scratched her for a while.

Then, having run out of reasons to tarry, she turned her mind reluctantly towards remembering the accident. All she remembered from that night was being in the car with them and then...nothing...till she woke up in the hospital with minor injuries. There was no body found to burn for either of them, which was the worst part.

For a long time she had been in denial, refusing to believe they were dead, but then the nightmares started. She was sure of their demise after that. Not knowing where to start, she decided to look for the photos of the trip. The trip to the town of Aritar in Sikkim, which had claimed their lives.

Though her own phone and those of her parents were destroyed in the accident, their DSLR camera had survived in the luggage and Namma had kept the photos in an album for her to look through after her grief had lessened. Had it, though? Not even a bit.

But, she was learning to bear it better, to carry its burden with grace. Bhairavi finally understood that grief was constant, it is only our capacity which alters to accommodate it. Taking out the album from its box, she flipped through the pages, and smiled at the pictures while tears stung her eyes.

She missed them so much. Here was a picture of Baba at Keokhola Waterfalls clicked by Maa. And there was the picture she took of the Kanchenjunga at dawn, full of blushing colors, while in the foreground Maa and Baba stood frozen in time and laughter, for she had clicked the photo when they were playfully arguing over who loved her the most.

As Bhairavi flipped the pages, full of painful nostalgia, she stopped at the picture of the three of them in Aritar Monastery where they had requested a man to take a family photo.

Her fingers touched the picture longingly, desperate to go back to that moment and delay their fateful departure for Bagdogra that evening. Her vision blurred with tears, she resolved to find out the truth of that evening, no matter what.

Keeping the album aside, Bhairavi sat upright, closing her eyes and willing her mind to go deep inside her memories, deeper and deeper into a swirling whirlpool of memories of that evening in Aritar,

** After an entire day of sightseeing, Bhairavi returned to the hotel, tired and satisfied, with Maa and Baba in tow. Suddenly, a man, the one who had clicked their picture in the monastery came up to them. "Excuse me, there is a call for you, sir."

Confused, her father took the call. But whatever he heard must not have been pleasant for he grimaced, saw her looking, and moved away to talk in private. After a while he came back but his demeanor had changed. He looked restless, angry...helpless even, and on edge.

Maa asked him what was wrong, but he shook his head, nodding towards Bhairavi. Taking the hint, she scowled before going back to their room. When they had not returned for some time, she called them but they did not pick up. Feeling uneasy, she went searching for them.

She found them arguing in the restaurant with a small group of people, who looked rather shady from the side. The person in the middle, who seemed to be in charge, had his back to her. Her parents seemed to be livid and after some more angry gesturing they started moving in her direction.

The group turned to look at them leave, with a calculating gaze she did not like. Her parents did not see her till they were in close proximity. On seeing her, their expression turned to one of horror before they held her and started running towards their car, their luggage forgotten and forsaken.

Bhairavi's last view of the group of men was that of the man in the center. He looked at her, almost hungrily, his eyes burning with lust and desire. A look which repulsed her. It was evident that the man was nearer her father's age than hers. His pupils seemed to glow red under the light and then she lost sight of him. She was mistaken, surely no human can have red eyes. **

Bhairavi gasped and came out of the trance. Her mind was reeling and she was drenched in sweat, her heart pounding. Turning blindly to her bedside table, she groped for her bottle of water and chugged half of it straight. Her throat was parched like she had run a marathon. In a distant corner of her mind she heard the front door open and Namma announce her entry.

Bhairavi took a few deep breaths to calm herself. She might have not remembered the accident yet, but she had definitely made a head start on the evening. That man....that man's eyes had glowed red. She was sure. But the man had appeared normal to her back then, may be because her Sight had not been active.

But one thing was confirmed. That man was not mortal, he was something else. But she had no clue of his identity. "Bhairavi...baccha, are you busy? If not, can you come and help set the table while I quickly warm our dinner? I am famished!"

With great strength, she pushed those thoughts away and decided to go help Namma. Remembering her plan of getting some information on her parents, she forced a cheerful smile and went into the living room.

Throughout dinner, Bhairavi signed and chatted with Namma, and the latter was so delighted with the improvement in her behavior that she decided to not grill Bhairavi about her date with the cute boy at the cafe. She had seen them from the kitchen and had planned to tease her all about it, but seeing her interact almost normally and talk about her day made Namma so happy that she resolved to let it go for the night.

Realizing that Namma was in a good mood, Bhairavi decided to get her notebook and ask Namma questions about Maa n Baba over dessert. As Namma scooped out their latest addition to the menu of 'Fudge You', a custom-made chili chocolate ice-cream, Bhairavi wrote her first question, 'Namma, tell me more about Maa and Baba, na?'

On reading the question, she laughed and asked with a sly smile, "Want to know their love story, huh? Why, did they never tell you?".

'I know that. Tell me...I don't know, about how I was born?' Bhairavi wrote.

"Ooh, I see. Well, one night they felt very romantic and your Baba kissed your Maa and then they went to their bedroom and..."

'Stop! Not that! ' signed Bhairavi hurriedly, her cheeks had turned tomato red. 'I know how babies are created, Namma. I just...you know, wanted to know about Maa's pregnancy or...maybe if I was a planned baby, or something like that,' Bhairavi scribbled before cursing herself for her lack of tact.

"You kids these days have such strange curiosities? Now when I was young...I used to ask my mother..." And Namma digressed into her own childhood.

Bhairavi patiently listened, laughing and nodding at the right moments. It was fun to listen to all that, but she needed answers. She was scared to probe into Namma's mind. What if she overstepped and activated some strange power which harmed her? She could deal with hurting herself, or even Samanya, but not Namma. Never. But she had to know if there was anything weird about her birth.

So, she asked again, this time twisting the question. 'Namma, was Maa born by normal delivery or caesarean? I have heard that only very strong women dare to go for normal deliveries.' Bhairavi knew she had hit the nail when Namma's expression grew proud and fierce. Maa had told her all about Namma's thirteen hour long labor and how proud she was of it, for back then there were no medicines for pain relief or morphine.

"Your Maa? I struggled for thirteen hours to push her out, my face and body was splattered with red spots by the time she came into this world, from the ruptured blood vessels due to all the agony. While your Maa chose caesarean, for obvious reasons."

'What reasons?' Bhairavi signed, eager for information.

"Your parents had been trying to conceive for years. After two miscarriages, when your Maa finally became pregnant with you, she refused to risk anything and chose the easier path, not that I begrudge her choice, she was right to not risk you, my precious baccha," Namma fondly said, ruffling her short, uneven hair.

"Why don't you go and get a proper hair cut done? You chopped off all of your long, beautiful hair, but it is all uneven. Get a nice stylish hair cut done at the salon tomorrow, I'll set an appointment at 3? Miss the last class, I am giving you permission.” Namma winked before she went to wash the dessert bowls while Bhairavi blinked in surprise.

Smiling ruefully, she touched her hair and shook her head. Her Namma was the best and the coolest, indeed. Since Summer was still eating her dinner, Bhairavi went to her room and left the door open for her to come in. Checking the calendar, she cursed. Tomorrow was her class test on Freud's theories of Psychoanalysis and Dream Interpretation, and she had barely studied.

Sitting at the table, she opened her books and began studying. By the time the clock struck two, Bhairavi was done. She knew if she studied an hour more, her revision would be complete and she would surely get the highest but her heart was not in it. Her brain was exhausted and she needed sleep. But there was one last thing to do before she went to bed.

She sat with her laptop on bed, and logged into her  Facebook account. In all probability there would be no message from Samanya. After all, he had said that he would message her only if he found out something. There was no other reason for him to text her at all. Absolutely none, she told herself. There were so many messages and friend requests that she gave up trying to open them and scrolled to the top. There was a friend request from Samanya, but no message.

As soon as she clicked accept, her laptop dinged and there was a message from him, 'Meet tomorrow same time, same place?'

Bhairavi smiled, before typing,
'Sure. Np.' She was about to log out when another message arrived,

'Got a question though. Will ask if you are free?' it read.

'Technically that's asking two questions, but go ahead,' she wrote back, smiling.

'Want to play Ludo?' his reply read.

Grinning, she agreed, 'I choose red.'

A/N
So here is the promised update! Now, you see, I am a pretty emotional yet detached individual, and I feel sad when I see people reading and not voting. One vote, one comment, these small little moves inspire a writer tremendously. Please vote on the chapters you read, comment your inputs positive or negative, as they will help me move ahead with the book and improve it for you, dear reader.

Love,
Kaushiki.