Thud!
Kabir fell heavily to the floor from the force of Vikram's blow. A deep bruise began to form on his arm, but his eyes burned with unmistakable rage. Vikram glared back at him, his own eyes seething with fury.
"You dare look your father in the eye? You've grown quite brave, haven't you!"
"Are you even my father?" Kabir asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
"And now you've found a tongue to talk back to me!"
Vikram raised the hockey stick again to strike, but this time, Kabir reached out and grabbed it. Vikram's eyes turned crimson with rage.
"You've crossed your limit, Kabir!" Vikram's voice echoed throughout the entire house.
In a voice that was eerily calm yet trembling with unshed tears, Kabir said, "Enough, Papa."
"Enough of this. There was a limit to what I could endure, and today, it has been crossed. Vinay is nine years younger than me; I am happy for his success, but what about my dreams?"
Kabir's eyes welled up with tears. "I want to be a singer. You neither make me a part of your business nor do you let me pursue my own path." Kabir's voice began to grow sharp again. "Do you think I don't see it? I know you are the one who blocked all the production houses from launching me as a singer."
Kabir screamed, "But why? I don't want your property!"
"Just stop standing in the way of my dreams!" Kabir began to plead with folded hands, but a mocking smile spread across Vikram's face.
"Dreams! Small people like you have small dreams. These pathetic 'dreams' of yours will ruin the reputation of the Raizada family."
"Pathetic? My dreams..."
"Papa!"
Just then, instead of Vinay, Madhav's voice came from behind.
"You're still standing here? Vinay's interview is over outside. It's time for the family photo."
"Yes, let's go, Nisha! Because of this wretch, my son's big day is being ruined. And as for you—you aren't coming anywhere." Vikram shot a piercing look at Kabir.
"I'm not interested anyway," Kabir muttered, looking away.
"Why you...!" Vikram gnashed his teeth in anger.
Nisha stepped in to calm Vikram down. Grabbing his arm, she said, "Let's go now, we're getting late."
"I'll deal with you when I get back. I'll show you what real hell looks like!" Vikram threw one last threat over his shoulder as he left.
The Sanctuary of Music
Kabir went to his room. He opened the door and kicked off his shoes. That small corner of the room was his only sanctuary. The walls were covered with posters and pictures of legendary musicians. In various corners sat a violin, a piano, a guitar, and other instruments.
Kabir picked up his guitar, sat on the floor, and began to sing a song by a famous artist:
"Zindagi bata de, kyun tu khafa hai;
Saansein hi toh le raha hoon;
Yeh bhi kya gunaah hai?..."
(Tell me, Life, why are you upset with me? I am only breathing; is even that a crime?)
As he sang, tears streamed down his face. The muffled sounds of the party outside reached his ears, piercing him like thorns. Suddenly, his childhood flashed before his eyes.
Kabir, age 4...
The first time he was beaten. It was so brutal that his small body was covered in blood. His crime? He had simply picked up his baby brother, Madhav, in his arms. How could a four-year-old understand the difference between biological and step-relations?
Vikram had beaten him mercilessly, but Kabir hadn't felt the sting as much back then. Yes, he cried a lot, but in his short four years, he had heard so much scolding that a beating seemed like a natural progression. What truly shocked him was his mother's behavior. Her maternal warmth had vanished. The mother who used to intervene in the smallest matters didn't come to save him that day.
But there was something even stranger. To Kabir, a father's wrath was fatherhood. However, Vikram's behavior toward Madhav was entirely different. He showered Madhav with love. Fulfilling his every whim, buying him toys, playing with him—this was Vikram's daily routine. Kabir could never understand this double standard. Vikram called Madhav his "heir" and Kabir a "burden." That word—burden—always stung.
Years passed. On the surface, Kabir had everything—expensive clothes, branded shoes, a prestigious school. But it all felt hollow when a child lacked the love of his parents and received only contempt instead.
The Night of the Fateful Decision
When Kabir was nine, Vinay was born. That was the final straw for his endurance. His mother grew even more distant after Vinay's birth. Kabir didn't want to lose her completely. He made a decision—a terrifying decision.
In the dead of night, he slowly pushed open the door to Nisha and Vikram's room. He tiptoed so softly that even his own footsteps were silent. He approached their bed. Nisha, Vikram, and the infant Vinay were sleeping peacefully. But Kabir was about to shatter that peace.
He reached out his small hands and picked up Vinay. The newborn was fast asleep, unaware of what was happening.
Kabir wasn't a criminal; he was just a child himself. Tears fell from his eyes onto Vinay's cheeks. The warmth of the tears woke the baby. Vinay opened his large eyes and smiled at Kabir. A newborn's smile could melt any heart, and Kabir was, after all, just a boy.
Sobbing, he whispered, "I am sorry. I know it's not your fault. But as long as you are here, I will never be 'happy.' Papa doesn't love me... Mamma changed after Madhav came... and now that you're here, Mamma will forget me entirely. I want happiness too... I want to laugh and play. But don't worry, I'll come to see you every day..."
Kabir pulled some money from his pocket and placed it in Vinay's tiny hands. "This is my pocket money... I broke my piggy bank just for you. I'm not a bad brother."
He fell silent for a moment, as if lost in thought. "No, maybe I am a bad brother... but I want my Mamma back. Sorry!"
Kabir turned to carry Vinay out of the room. Just as he reached for the door, his foot caught the edge of the side table. The sudden collision threw him off balance, and he fell—Thud!
His knee was scraped, and he was covered in scratches. But Vinay...
Vinay hit the floor and began to wail loudly. Blood started trickling from his forehead. Panicked, Kabir put a finger to his lips, gesturing for the baby to be quiet.
"Sorry... Sorry... Shh! I'm here... we'll go to the doctor."
Suddenly, Nisha's voice cut through the dark.
"Kabira!"
Nisha and Vikram were awake.