Sonia smiled as she remembered the promise her mother had elicited from her that morning.
“No chasing criminals and no solving cases for ten days,” Mrs Samarth had insisted, as she had set the pressure cooker for a fresh batch of sweet Modaks. They were in the kitchen, a big room designed as per Mrs Samarth’s special requirements. Since Sonia very rarely attempted to cook anything more ambitious than a cup of chai, she was more than glad to allow her mother to reign in the kitchen. Which she did. Despite her busy schedule at the office, somehow Mrs Samarth always found the time to cook special meals for the family.
“No cases,” Sonia had agreed.
“And you will do pooja every day”
“Well…”
“Ganapati is a God of all Gods! He removes all obstacles,” Mrs Samarth reminded her. Draped in a pure silk, blue- bordered sari, and with her shoulder-length wavy hair, she usually passed off as Sonia’s elder sister. She looked pretty, even wearing a red-checked apron and a smudge of flour on her face. Sonia was very proud of her mother’s youthful good looks.
But it was unusual for her mother to insist on religious rituals. The Samarths had always practised religion quietly, without much fuss. What was so different this festival? Sonia wondered.
“Lord Ganesh has a place of honour in each house.” Mrs Samarth turned to study her daughter. “All new activities have to begin with his blessings. He not only removes all obstacles, but he also protects his worshippers.”
“I know that Mom. I believe in Ganapati and in pooja!”
“I’m glad.” Mrs Samarth moved a fond hand over her daughter’s head. “I want him to protect you and take care of you. Specially in the profession you’ve chosen. Your father and I worry a lot about you.”
Sonia gave her mother a quick impulsive hug. “You don’t have to worry about me, Mom. I’ve never taken undue risks. Besides, you and Dad have a lot on your plate handling the family business. I’m just enjoying life, doing what I like.”
Mrs Samarth smiled. “Just be careful, okay? And do Pooja for these ten days.”
“Right, Mom!”
Now, as Sonia waited for the red signal to turn green, she smiled. Dear Mom and Dad. They had really stood by her, through all her decisions, respecting her choices. Through her childhood, despite the tragedy in their house, they had never ever smothered her with protection, as would have been the natural tendency. Instead, they had given her enough rope and freedom to pursue life on her terms. She had a lot to thank God for, Sonia thought gratefully.
A tap on the right window of the van interrupted her flow of thoughts. A hideous, ugly face was gazing at her. Small wild eyes and an unkempt beard peered through a grubby white sheet which was wound around his head. Water dripped in rivulets from his grubby, unclean face and the sheet slipped to reveal a mass of hair in knotty dreadlocks. His head twitched, involuntarily. But it was not his looks that sent a chill down the detective’s back. It was the expression in his eyes. Mean, very nearly malevolent. A dirty hand was thrust forward.
“Paisa do maaye!” - Give me money, O mother! - he whined.
Sonia almost shrank back, an involuntary shiver running down her back. Impulsively, Sonia began winding up the window.
The beggar began uttering a slew of bad words, shaking his fist at her and spitting on the pavement, his head twitching violently. Fortunately, the signal turned green and Sonia raced forward, her only thought being to escape the foul language and manner of the beggar. Only when she had safely neared her house did she brake the van to a halt, her heart thumping. What in heavens had come over her? Why had a beggar incited such strong emotions in her? But something about that man was so evil… Sonia took a deep, steadying breath. It was just a random encounter. But she didn’t want to relive that choking shock again. As her heartbeat returned to normal, she almost smiled at herself. Sonia Samarth, the hardcore detective, had felt threatened by a mere beggar! It was a good thing Jatin had not witnessed this episode. She would never have heard the last of it!
Sukhakarata Dukhaharata Warta Vighnachi… the arati sung in chorus, accompanied by a tinkling bell and the clapping of hands, filled the Samarth home with a pious air. The scent of joss sticks and fresh flowers mingled with the aroma of offerings of a fresh batch of modaks - a sweet dish made of coconut and jaggery, stuffed in rice-flour j ackets in the shape of small, domed crowns - said to be Ganapti’s favourite sweet dish. Mr Samarth, dignified in a crisp white kurta pyjama, held a plate on which rested a lit oil lamp. He circulated his hand with the rhythm of the arati. As the prayer ended, everyone chorused, “Ganapati Bappa Morya!” as a salutation to Lord Ganesh. Then Sonia took the lamp from her father and passed it to each of their guests. Mohnish smiled at her and moved a hand over the flame, then touched his hand to his eyes reverently. Jatin and Naina did the same. Last, she took the lamp to her parents, then placed the plate before the elaborately decorated three-foot-high statue of Ganesh. Kneeling, she touched first the idol’s feet and then her parents’ feet in reverence.
“Come along,” Mrs Samarth welcomed the
