Roots of Peace

Episode1

Keshav – 25 years old

Keshav looked at the burning bodies of his father and older brother on the cremation ground. His youngest brother, who was barely 6, clung to him. Today was a black day for Singanoor, 18 people were killed in the faction violence, his father and brother among them. Keshav was at his office in Germany when he got the call. His brother was in ICU. By the time he landed in India, his brother too had succumbed to his injuries.

All he was told was that three rival families arranged for a peace meeting, and his brother and father believed it was the perfect chance to strike first. They carried crude bombs; they exploded even before reaching the meeting point.

“They say bombs were in our jeep.”

“Police will not register anything — Raghuveer has already spoken to them.”

“Still… sixteen bodies. The whole village has lost someone.” He heard men whisper

Keshav closed his eyes.

His father and brother weren’t martyrs. Just fools who took revenge too far and killed their own people.

Keshav finished the cremation rites and returned home. His grandmother sat on the front porch, her white sari glowing faintly under the lone porch light. She looked up when the gate creaked.

He walked to her and sat down beside her. Without a word, he pulled her into his arms. She buried her face in his neck and sobbed softly.

His own eyes burned, but he held his tears back. This wasn’t his time to grieve, not yet. His family depended on him now.

When his grandmother finally began to speak, he gently placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Shh… not now, nayanamma, repu matladudam," he said softly. “You need to rest.”

He helped her up, guided her into her room, and tucked the thin quilt around her frail frame. She caught his wrist, her fingers trembling.

“Everything will be alright,” he whispered, more to himself than to her. “I’ll take care of everyone.”

He went in search of his mother and sister.

He checked his parents’ room first. It was empty. Then he walked to his sister’s room. His little brother and sister were fast asleep on the bed, curled close together. Their tear-streaked faces looked peaceful now, worn out by exhaustion and grief.

But his mother sat near the window, staring blankly into the dark night outside. Her hands lay limp in her lap; her eyes fixed somewhere far beyond the walls.

“Amma,” Keshav called softly.

She didn’t move. He walked closer and touched her shoulder. When she still didn’t respond, he gave her a gentle shake. She blinked, as if waking from a trance, and then her gaze found him. A moment later, a wail tore out of her low, heart-wrenching, and full of pain that words could never carry.

Keshav stood there, helpless, letting her cry. He knew there was nothing he could say that would ease it. When her sobs finally subsided into quiet tremors, he guided her out to the living room.

“Have you eaten anything since morning?” he asked softly.

She didn’t answer. Her eyes were empty again.

He sighed, went into the kitchen, and found some milk. He warmed it and brought it to her.

“Please drink, Amma.”

She shook her head weakly.

“I know you’re in pain,” he said, keeping his voice steady. “But we both need to be strong for grandma, and for the kids. Please… just a little.”

He placed the cup beside her and sat on the couch opposite her. After a long silence, she lifted it, took a few reluctant sips, and set it down again.

“I’m so angry at your father,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I know we shouldn’t speak ill of the dead… but your father killed your brother and sixteen others. He took everyone with him.”

The words hung between them: heavy, bitter, and final.

Keshav leaned forward, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. He had no defence for the dead. Only the living to take care of.

“Your father only pretended to want peace with the Kompalli and Raghuveer families. He took bombs with him… but karma struck before he even got there. They went off on the way. Now everyone knows the truth, your father’s and brother’s duplicity is out in the open. There’s going to be bloodshed. They won’t spare anyone connected to this.” Her eyes widened as if she had realised something just now.

“Keshava, you need to leave, they will kill you.” His mother bolted upstairs, rifled through the room and yanked the bags from the corner. “Good, they are still packed.” Her hands trembled. She shoved them into his arms.

“I’ll call the driver, leave for Hyderabad tonight, go back as soon as you can and do not come back,” started pushing him towards exit

“Amma, stop, I’m not going back. I will stay here and take care of our family,” he said.

She laughed ugly, short, desperate. “Take care of the family? You needed to be alive to do that”

Her voice went cold, fast. “Surya, Raghuveer’s son they say he’s murdered a dozen people who kidnapped him. He was only seventeen. Kompalli Aravind. He is ruthless. He rules villages under him with tight leash. They’ll come for you Keshava. I’ll never survive losing you too.” She started crying, the sound raw.

“Amma, stop. Don’t,” he tried to reason, but she cut him off.

“Killing women and children is frowned upon,” she said, as if that were comfort. “We’re safer. I’ll send your brother away in a couple of years. But you… you must leave now.” She shoved him through the doorway.

The commotion woke the house. His brother and sister were already in the hallway; his grandmother eased down the stairs and peered into the living room.

“What are you doing, Lalitha?” she asked from the landing.

“Keshav is leaving. He’s going back to Germany. Wish your brother goodbye,” his mother said, looking at the children.

“Going back? What do you mean by going back?” His grandmother’s voice sharpened like a reproach. “He’s the next heir to our family. He must care for us and for Singanoor village. He is the de facto leader now.”

“No.” Lalitha’s voice cracked, then hardened. “I have already lost my husband and one child to the violence that comes with being an heir. I will not let it happen to another of my children. And what would he rule? Everyone knows your son carried bombs to kill Aravind. Do you think they’ll stay silent? They’ll come after Keshav.” His mother sounded increasingly angry.

“They wouldn’t dare to attack. None of them were harmed. If Keshav leaves now, they will think that Alaparthi family is scared, and the next heir is weak and cowardly.” Keshav’s grandmother countered.

“I don’t care what anyone thinks, I only want my son alive,” his mother shouted.

“Amma, that’s enough,” Keshav said, his voice calm but firm.

His mother looked at him as if he’d just signed his own death sentence.

Across the room, his grandmother’s expression was unreadable. But there was a faint glint in her eyes, not of joy, but of grim satisfaction.

Keshav looked between them and realised his mother and grandmother were in a war of their own, a war to control him.

“I’m not going anywhere. That’s my final decision, but I’ll not continue violence like father and Anna.” He turned to his grandmother as he spoke.

Then, glancing at his younger siblings, he added, “All of you, go back to sleep.”

Once his siblings and grandmother had left the room, his mother broke the silence.

“How will you do that, Keshav? Why would Raghuveer or Aravind believe you after what your father did?”

“I’ll call Pratap sir,” he replied after a pause. “He is friends with Raghuveer and might help me.”

Pratap Reddy runs Annapurna Education Trust, an organisation that provides subsidised education to the villages in the surrounding area. His family had always stayed neutral in the faction violence, focusing instead on education and the development of the region.

Keshav sat alone in the courtyard long after everyone had gone back to bed. He took a deep breath and unlocked his phone. His thumb hovered over the contact Pratap Sir. For a moment, he hesitated. The last time they had spoken was before he’d left for Germany.

He finally pressed the call button.

“Hello?” A calm, measured voice answered.

“Pratap sir… this is Keshav.”

There was a brief pause. “Keshav… I was expecting your call but not so soon. I’m sorry about your father and brother, it’s been a long time, son. How are you holding up?”

“I’m fine, sir,” Keshav said, though his voice sounded heavier than he intended. “I wanted to speak to you about the peace meeting. I know Raghuveer is your friend, can you arrange for another one?”

“I can talk to Raghu,” Pratap said thoughtfully, “but Aravind… I’m not so sure. Not after what your father did.”

“I understand,” Keshav replied quietly. “But please try. You’ve known me all my life, sir. I just want to end violence between our families.”

Pratap was silent for a moment before replying, “Let’s meet the day after tomorrow at the school. I’ll invite Aravind and Raghuveer, but I can’t promise Aravind will come.”

“Thank you, sir,” Keshav said quietly. “That’s all I can ask.”