episode: “The Shadow of Rudra”
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Titir leaned against the kitchen door, her face serious.
— “Ma, why has Rudra come? After so many years, all of a sudden?”
Her stepmother, slightly irritated, cut her off,
— “Why do you want to know? What’s your problem if he’s come? He belongs to this house too. Your uncle raised him.”
Titir faltered for a moment, but then bit her lip and said,
— “No, I mean… it’s just… six years without any news, no calls, no messages… and now suddenly he shows up. Doesn’t that seem… strange to you?”
Her stepmother went on silently chopping vegetables, irritation etched across her face.
— “You’d better think about your own life. Stop poking your nose into others’.”
Then, in a softer tone, she added,
— “Titir, come here in the kitchen, give me a hand.”
Titir frowned and shot back,
— “No, Ma. You’d better cook yourself for your dearest Rudra. If I touch the food, it’ll only turn bitter.”
Sharp sarcasm cut through her words.
Her stepmother’s face flushed crimson with anger.
— “You insolent girl! Watch your tongue!”
Titir suddenly spun around and stormed out of the kitchen, muttering under her breath. She ran straight toward the hall, as if she couldn’t bear another second in there.
Behind her, her stepmother stood fuming.
---
Titir flopped onto the large sofa on the right. Her chest was heaving with anger. She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them again.
The hall was large, elegant, decorated with regal taste.
In the center sat a big, dark gray L-shaped sofa, in front of it a glass table with a few old magazines and a small vase of white roses. On one side stood a bookshelf, neatly filled with books and framed old photographs.
To the right was a massive window, through which the cool night air swayed the curtains. The chandelier’s soft glow spread a refined atmosphere around the room.
On one wall hung a childhood photo of Rudra—Titir quickly turned her eyes away.
Her mind was so stormy that even this well-arranged room felt poisonous to her.
---
She sat quietly in a corner of the sofa, her face marked by anger and wounded pride. Just then, her uncle entered from the corridor on the right, his familiar smile lighting up his face.
— “What’s the matter, Miss Titir? Didn’t go to college today?”
He laughed gently as he sat down beside her on the sofa. He wore a light white kurta and gray pajama.
Titir turned her eyes away. Clearing her throat, she said,
— “I wasn’t feeling well, so I didn’t go.”
Her uncle asked, a little surprised,
— “Not feeling well? Did you fight with Meena again?”
Titir stayed silent. The storm inside her mind refused to calm.
Her uncle smiled softly,
— “You’re still the same little Titir… sulking, refusing to answer anyone.”
This time Titir turned and said,
— “When someone takes everything for themselves, sulking seems like the best option.”
Her uncle chuckled,
— “Good thing you stayed home today. After all, Rudra is coming, so I thought—”
Titir suddenly cut him off, her eyes wide, her voice trembling with irritation,
— “Please, Kaka! You too? Since morning, everyone is chanting Rudra, Rudra! Feels like I live in some guest house and he’s the crowned prince of this mansion!”
Her uncle burst into laughter, a trace of hidden amusement in it.
— “Oh dear! Why are you getting so worked up? He’s not a boy anymore, Rudra has become a big man. You were his playmate as a child—so of course there’s reason to feel happy.”
Titir wrinkled her nose,
— “You may be happy, Kaka, but not me. And don’t you remember how many times I got beaten up in the name of play?”
Her uncle kept laughing, while Titir turned away again, leaning against a cushion.
“Everyone come and have breakfast!”
Her stepmother’s voice rang out from the kitchen. There was the usual warmth in her tone, but Titir could hear the hidden excitement over Rudra’s arrival.
Slowly, everyone gathered around the dining table.
First came Seema, Titir’s 15-year-old younger sister. Dressed in a light pink frock, her face carried a simple smile. She quietly sat beside her mother.
Then came her uncle, his hair now peppered with gray but his face still carrying the same affectionate expression.
With him arrived Bishu-da—her uncle’s son, who, like Rudra, had studied abroad, but unlike him was outgoing and cheerful. Beside him sat his wife, Tina, a modern, spirited woman in stylish clothes.
Lastly, Titir’s father entered—quiet, serious-faced, taking his seat at the table. He rarely took part in conversations, but love always lingered in his eyes.
Titir stood a little away, watching. She hadn’t yet sat down. When her stepmother caught her eye, she said sharply,
— “Titir, don’t just stand there. Sit down.”
Titir stiffened her face and sat at the table, beside Seema.
On the table were hot parathas, aloo dum, fried eggs, and fresh fruits.
As she put a piece of paratha in her mouth, Titir suddenly asked,
— “Bishu-da, aren’t you going to the office today?”
Bishu smiled,
— “Not today. Rudra’s coming, so I thought I’d stay home.”
Titir pulled a long face,
— “Oh… I see, I understand. Baba, Kaka—you’re also not going to office, I suppose?”
Her stepmother’s voice cut in sharply,
— “Titir!”
Before she could reply, her father said calmly,
— “No, my dear, we’re going. We’re not like Bishu, trying to skip work.”
Bishu froze. Tina’s face showed discomfort.
Titir smirked and whispered under her breath,
— “Well, this morning tea comes with a dose of drama too.”
Seema leaned toward her and whispered,
— “You’re no less—you provoke everyone until they explode!”
Titir whispered back,
— “Otherwise, where’s the fun?”
Seema slung her schoolbag over her shoulder and asked,
— “Rudra-da is coming tonight, right?”
Her stepmother nodded,
— “Yes, his flight’s around eight.”
Seema smiled lightly,
— “Then I’ll go to school. Later I’ll help with all the decorations!”
Titir laughed, teasing,
— “Ooooh! ‘Rudra-da’! What a sweet tone! Why does your face light up just hearing Rudra’s name, Seema?”
Seema blushed crimson,
— “Oh stop, Didi! You always tease me!”
Still laughing, Titir said,
— “I’m only saying—some people just melt the moment they hear Rudra’s name!”
Her stepmother scolded,
— “Titir, enough! The younger ones don’t always understand such jokes.”
A hidden smile lingered on Titir’s lips. Seema slipped out the door on her way to school.
---
Night, 10 p.m. The airport in West Bengal shimmered with bright lights. The airplane’s wheels touched down slowly on the runway, smoke and sound filling the air.
As the sliding door of the plane opened, two men stepped out.
Both tall, handsome, carrying an almost intimidating aura.
One—in a black blazer, hair immaculately styled, his eyes carrying a strange coldness. This was Rudra—the boy who had left this land six years ago, now returned as a powerful business tycoon.
Behind him came another—tall, handsome, but with a scar across his face. His gaze was sharp, almost piercing. His very presence seemed to freeze the air with an unknown fear.
Several black luxury cars stood waiting.
Bodyguards formed a silent security cordon.
Adjusting his sunglasses with a stern face, Rudra said,
— “Let’s go. Not a minute longer here.”
The car door opened. Rudra sat inside. In front of his eyes flashed the image of that house… and that girl… Titir.
The man behind him stepped into another car. In the darkness of night, the cars sped silently toward the city.
