ETERNAL COMPANIONS

Heavenly Place

A car waits outside the Chauhan's villa.

Beep! The car’s headlights turn off.

Swar gets out of the car. He sees his father looking at him from his room’s balcony. Swar looks down and sticks his tongue out in fear.

“I know Dad is angry. What will I tell him now? He’s not like Dadaji or Mom who are lenient with me,” he whispers to himself, his heart beating in a marathon.

Swar goes in, takes off his shoes near the small temple of Devi Durga built to the left of the house entrance, and prays that everything should go well with Dad’s mood.

“Hey Devi Maa, save me today once again, please,” he requests the Goddess.

He turns back and is about to go to his room, but finds his mother and grandfather standing behind him, staring.

“What? Are you both trying to scare me? I’m not scared at all,” he says in a low voice.

“You might not be scared of us, but you surely fear your father,” says Lata, knowing her son well.

“No! Not at all,” Swar says while going upstairs to his room. His hands are cold, and his heartbeat is fast.

“Your dad wants to meet you, son. He’s been waiting for you since he came from the office,” screams Lata.

“Yeah, I will. I’ll just freshen up and then go,” Swar says, scared and unwilling to meet his father. His conscience warns him not to.

“Gattu! Go and meet him now, I said!” shouts Vishambhar sternly.

“Okay…” Swar complies. He feels like nobody loves him.

He goes to his father’s room, which is beside Dadaji’s. Pratap has kept the door open for him. Seeing his dad, Swar coughs and tries to turn back. “I don’t want to go. No, never.” His whole body shivers as he gasps.

“Swar!” Pratap calls him.

Swar turns around, closes his eyes, and decides to face his father. “Yes, Dad? Did you call me? I was about to come but something stuck on my foot, so I was just going back to—”

“Enough!” Pratap interrupts angrily as he turns around to face him.

“When will you grow up, huh? What do you think? There are so many responsibilities on you after me—are you even aware of that? When will you stop this childish behavior?” He loses his temper.

“And where were you the whole day?” Pratap asks.

“I was at the gym, Dad,” Swar says, head bowed in fear.

“Don’t tell me that from morning 9:30 to 8 in the evening you were in the gym. What do you think, I don’t know anything? Partying with all your spoilt friends, acting like a boss outside the house, and what not! This behavior is not tolerable, Swar.”

The way Pratap yells makes Swar believe his dad will slap him. He still doesn’t lift his head to look at him. Pratap looks at him and shakes his head in disgust. After a few seconds,

He places his hand on Swar’s shoulder.

“Look at me,” says Pratap in a low voice.

“Look at me, I said, Swar!” he repeats, louder.

Swar looks up straight into Pratap’s eyes.

“I don’t have to scold you every time, beta, if you would just understand some things and give importance to your family and responsibilities,” Pratap explains.

Swar nods, trembling under the weight of his father’s tone.

“I know your heart is pure and you are genuine. Trust me, I may be a little harsh and arrogant towards you, but I care for you. I want you to be happy, prosperous, and satisfied,” says Pratap emotionally.

Swar listens carefully this time.

“Listen, son, you might not like my decision, but I have decided to get you married to my friend’s daughter—Bela,” says Pratap.

Swar is shocked but can’t speak.

“I’ve sent a letter to my friend Shamsher, who stays in Purakhpur, asking for his daughter’s hand for you. She’s a beautiful girl; you’ll like her,” promises Pratap.

“I think once you’re settled in life—with a wife and kids—you’ll understand your responsibilities. So, I want you to go to Purakhpur and spend some time with Shamsher and Bela. As soon as Shamsher replies, I’ll inform you to leave. Okay?”

Swar is in complete shock after hearing his father’s decision. He walks away from Pratap’s room like a hypnotized person. Lata sees him and immediately understands what Pratap must have said. She’s worried, but also somewhat accepting.

Swar goes to his room, stares at himself in the mirror, and throws a few things in anger. Then he picks up his guitar and starts playing it aggressively until the strings snap.

His sister Sunaina passes by and sees him breaking the strings.

“What are you doing, bro? What happened?” she asks curiously.

“Marriage happened,” says an irritated Swar.

“Marriage? What? Whose marriage?” Sunaina asks, intrigued.

“My marriage, i***t! Dad’s getting me married to some village girl,” says Swar.

“So that’s awesome!” exclaims Sunaina.

“What’s awesome about that? He’s fixing my marriage without even asking me—and that too with a girl I don’t know! How can he be so cruel? He could’ve punished me for my behavior, locked me up, or slapped me—but this? This is not acceptable!” Swar says, voice deepening with emotion.

Sunaina laughs. “I’ve never seen you so worried before.”

“It’s not funny, Sunaina!” Swar glares at her.

“Okay, sorry. But just go and meet her. Then you’ll know what she’s like. That’s all,” Sunaina says calmly.

“The thing is not about meeting her, it’s that I don’t want to get married, do you understand?” he says, on the verge of tears.

“Bro, I think you should just get some good sleep. That’ll calm you down. Don’t think about anything else—just close your eyes and rest,” says Sunaina gently.

She makes him lie down, covers him with a blanket, turns off the lights, closes the door, and leaves. Swar isn’t asleep yet—he’s still thinking about his dad and the marriage.

---

Far from the state of Jammu & Kashmir lies a beautiful village named Purakhpur. It sits between Rajasthan and Gujarat and is always filled with light and color.

The people here follow both Gujarati and Rajasthani traditions—it’s like heaven on earth. The horizon stretches wide; sunsets glow, birds fly freely, trees sway with warm wind. Purakhpur is a symbol of divinity and attracts all who visit.

The rivers and lakes are sacred, providing life to the village. People wear traditional clothing: women in heavy ghagra-cholis, men in dhoti-kurtas. Men wear pagdis and married women take ghunghats over their heads.

Temples are everywhere, filled with idols of gods and goddesses. But the grandest of all stands atop the mountain peak—the Temple of Goddess Durga.

Purakhpur worships Durga, but also deeply reveres Lord Krishna.

It’s like a small island, surrounded by water. Some live in palaces, others in joint homes, and the poor in huts. Transport includes bullock carts and small boats, though the wealthy own cars. Every evening, people light diyas, draw rangolis, and decorate their doors with flowers to keep the village bright and radiant.

Folk and classical music and dance are central here—Garba and Ghoomar are part of every celebration. They take pride in their culture, singing folk, sufi, and devotional songs. Colors fill every function; villagers throw them into the air as a symbol of joy and celebration.