Rishton Ki Dor

8. Seeds of Discord

A few days later, Ayaan was in his room painting. He was recreating a photograph he had taken himself at the beach a couple of months back.

"Wow, Ayaan," a voice broke into his concentration. Ayaan turned as his Maasi walked in. Rashmi gestured to his painting. "Tum to bohot khoobsurat painting karte ho."

Ayaan beamed. "Thanks, Maasi."

Rashmi sat on Ayaan's bed. "Kahaa Lagaane wale ho ye painting?"

Ayaan-"Kahi lagane ke liye nahi hai, Maasi. Actually, wo meri art internship hai na, uske liye bana raha hoo."

By some miracle, Alisha had agreed to let Ayaan go through with his art internship instead of going to business school. Ayaan had been absolutely thrilled, and even though there were still months for the internship, he was preparing from now itself.

Rashmi nodded, looking impressed. "Oh...kal tumhari Maa aur Mihir isi baare mai baat kar rahe the."

"Acha?" Ayaan asked, wanting to know what they'd been discussing.

Rashmi nodded. "Haa. Alisha keh rahi thi ki tumme kaafi talent hai in sab cheezo mai, to tumhe apni internship karneli chahiye isme." She laughed. "Mihir keh raha tha acha hua Alisha ne tumhe allow kar diya, ab tum is baare mai rona to band karoge."

Ayaan frowned. "Matlab?"

Rashmi answered nonchalantly, "Are kuch nahi beta, wo bas aise hi keh raha tha ki tum har cheez ke liye use kitna pareshaan karte ho, baccho ki tarah behave karte ho bilkul. Tumhari taang kheech raha tha shayad."

Ayaan was surprised to hear that. Did Mihir really think that? Was it true? Ayaan reflected on it. It was true that he always went first to Mihir whenever he needed anything, even before going to his Mom. That was how it had been since he was a kid. But did Mihir find that annoying?

Rashmi smiled sweetly at him. "Khair, wo sab chodo. Tum apni painting karo, mai chalti hoo." She patted his head and left, having done what she had come to do.

Ayaan continued to think about what she'd said, but then shrugged it off. It didn't mean anything, obviously. Maybe he did behave a little childishly with Mihir, but his brother didn't have any problem with it, he was sure. With that, he got back to his painting.

*

Mihir had had a horrible day. There had been just too much work-too many deals to negotiate, too many files to read and too many things to handle. Now, he was a very patient man who liked his work, but days like these could drive even him over the edge.

And it wasn't even over yet. Right now, Mihir was sat in his bedroom, his laptop open in front of him, on a conference call with some clients in America.

"I hope you've received all the relevant details," the client was saying. "If there is anything you'd like to change, let us know."

Mihir nodded, going through the file in his hands. The headache that had been building up all day was raging now, so his head was absolutely killing him. It was taking a lot of effort for him to even concentrate. He couldn't wait to wrap up this meeting and go to sleep.

Suddenly, the door to his room flew open. Mihir looked up.

Ayaan entered, a huge grin on his face. "Bhaiya!" he exclaimed. "Mujhe aapko kuch dikhana hai, chalo mere saath."

Mihir looked at his laptop. He muted his mike, then said to Ayaan, "Abhi nahi, Ayaan. I'm a little busy now. I'll come later."

Ayaan shook his head. "Nahi, abhi chalo. Come onnn!" He came over to Mihir and began tugging his hand, not noticing his conference call in his excitement.