There was a light breeze and it was drizzling.
It wasn’t a bright morning but the Sun proved its existence. Rahil was standing outside the bungalow. Hands stuffed inside his pockets, he stood there without showing any emotion on his face.

He was looking at the bungalow, thinking about his father. How everything changed after he lost him. He was remembering his favourite moments with him.

The moments when they went for a drive. When they watched their favourite shows together, when they painted together. Moments spent in the kitchen. Moments when his dad got emotional.

“Dad, you know what? I don’t think I’ll ever be as successful as you.”

“Why? Why not?”

“Because, I’ll be more successful.”

 “That’s like my son.

Teary-eyed Rahil, smiled and was still standing there.
A car honked behind him.
It was his elder brother, Zaayed. Zaayed honked even after Rahil turned and quickly moved the car ahead and stopped just before Rahil.

Rahil was still standing there. Without moving an inch.
He smiled at Zaayed.

Zaayed did not smile back.

The smile on Rahil’s face, slowly started to fade away as Zaayed’s car moved ahead.

Rahil was an adopted kid. He was barely 5 years old when he was adopted by the Muhanas. Mr. Muhana loved Rahil way too much. He never made him feel like an adopted kid, always pampered him and made him feel special.

Zaayed, for obvious reasons, did not like Rahil that much. Though they grew up together, Zaayed always seemed to distinguish him from Rahil. Rahil wanted to become an architect, and hence was sent abroad for few years.
When he came back, all Mr. Muhana could think of, was Rahil. There were preparations done for his welcome. The entire house was decorated with flowers and lights. It was a grand ceremony which Zaayed wasn’t very fond of.

“I don’t get it dad. Yes, I understand that he wanted to go abroad and study. But, yeah, good for him. Now that he is coming back, why do you want to spend so much on him? What’s the point?”

“Zaay jaan, he is coming after 5 years. We have all missed him. It does call for a celebration. If you were in his place, I would do the same.”

“Oh c’mon dad! You all missed him. I didn’t. And for God sake! Stop comparing both of us! You wouldn’t do all this for me. You have always loved Rahil more and it has been pretty evident.”

Whatever Zaayed said was true. Mr. Muhana knew that and hence didn’t utter a word.
The relationship between Rahil and Zaayed was always very difficult. When they were kids, Zaayed always cried for bigger toys as he was the elder son. But, both of them were always given the same toys.
Though Zaayed never accepted it, he had always been jealous of Rahil and the love that he got from their father.

Rahil had always wanted everything quickly.

Rahil would ask for something, and he would get it the next day.

On Rahil’s 20th birthday, Mr. Muhana promised him something.

“The day I die. All my money, property, my cars, are going to be yours.”


“I promise you son. After I die, it’s all yours.”

After Rahil left for his higher studies, Zaayed and Rahil didn’t talk to each other for a very long time. They only wished each other on their birthdays and that was it. Though Rahil always thought of dropping in a message for Zaayed, he never really did.

On the day when Rahil came back, the entire bungalow was beautifully decorated. Right from the gates till the back yard, there were lights everywhere.

Zaayed couldn’t accept the attention Rahil was going to get on his arrival. He sat in his room, barely participating in the grand welcome. He sat there with a cigarette in his hand. He saw the smoke in front of his eyes and slowly blew it away. Every time he blew the smoke, he cursed Rahil and his existence.

There was a frame of their family on his wall. He looked at it and threw the ash pot on it. Within seconds, the glass was all over the floor.

Outside, people were waiting with flowers and gifts. Music. Balloons. Champagne. Mr. Muhana was happy like never before. Joy was everywhere. He held his wife’s hand and was extremely emotional.

A black shiny car arrived near the gate. It was Rahil, with his secretaries.
Zaayed was searching for something in his drawer.
He threw all his clothes on the bed. The tv was on. Some random channel, a movie on a serial killer. Zaayed was extremely frustrated as he couldn’t find what he is looking for.
On the other hand, Rahil was receiving what he was not expecting. Gifts, flowers, more gifts. As he walked out of the car, people stood there looking at him in awe.
A tall, good looking man Rahil, walked towards his mom and dad.
Mr. Muhana was almost in tears. He couldn’t get enough of looking at his son, who was now a successful man.

When Rahil approached him, Mr. Muhana went into a flashback of his childhood.

Memories met him again.
Little Rahil, who didn’t even know how to draw a line, now knew it all.

Zaayed was staring at them through his window and had something in his hands. He had tears down his cheek while his eyes were burning red.

Rahil stood in front of his dad and they both looked at each other.
Mr. Muhana touched his cheek and smiled.

Rahil smiled and shut his eyes.
He bent down and touched his father’s feet.

Mr. Muhana was shot three times.

Zaayed ran down looking at what had happened. People got scared and started to run away. Some people rushed to Mr. Muhana and called the police and the ambulance. Some stood at a distance, stunned. Mrs. Muhana collapsed on the floor.

Rahil cried holding his father’s hand, while Zaayed kept staring at the dead body with tears down his cheek.

The relationship only grew bitter with time. The police was trying hard to figure out who shot Mr. Muhana that night. Unfortunately, there were only few clues. It was obvious that the entire murder was planned and well timed.

When Rahil came inside, Zaayed looked at Rahil and said,

“You think the world is as stupid as you, Mr. Rahil Vinod Mehra? If I am not wrong.”

“Rahil Kabeer Muhana, Zaayed.”

“How shameless can you be?”

“What are you trying to say?”

“We were never taught to touch dad’s feet.”

“As in? What are you trying to..”

“What do you think Rahil, I don’t understand? I don’t see the obvious things?”

Rahil stood there without saying a word.

“You couldn’t wait for him to die. Could you? Your habit of acquiring everything too soon pushed you to that extent that you decided to take my father’s life. What do you think? I didn’t know about the pact dad made with you?

I die. And it’s all yours?”

Rahil’s hands were shaking.

“You touched his feet that night. That night, I was looking at you through my window. I had a gun in my hand. I was not in my senses Rahil. I was planning to kill you. You bent down to touch his feet and dad was dead. I did shoot a bullet. And, I know, out of the three bullets, that killed dad, the last one was mine.”

“It’s stupid when people say that bullets are made out of lead or copper or whatever. No, bullets aren’t made out of all that.

Bullets are made out of jealousy, greed and hatred. And trust me, that’s exactly what it takes to kill.”


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s