Swayam took another sip of steaming hot black coffee, standing by the floor to ceiling glass window of the study of his penthouse in Worli. It was monsoon season and the whole city was enveloped in a grey mist. Grey sky, grey clouds, grey buildings, and everything on the roads down below appeared like a grey blur through the thin film of rain showers. In Mumbai, you did not hear the rains, especially on higher floors, just the fragrant smell and wet feeling that invaded into flats informed the occupants of its arrival. And so he had left the case file he was studying and had come by the window when the smell of rains had hit his senses, knowing too well that if there is one thing that can make him feel his mother again, then it would be this water pouring down from skies. His mother had loved them, and maybe that's why rains reminded him of her.

Rains always urged him to reflect on his life, let bygones be bygones like his mother used to ask him to. It reminded him of his last promise to her, of taking care of himself, of living fully and enjoying life and never giving up. Such was her determination to give him a better life that she was still binding him to life, from beyond life, with that last wish of hers. But there was only so much a mother could do to help her lonely child from her grave. Like always, it took only a few minutes of contemplation in rains when his thoughts invariably shifted to what all he had lost in his life and mocked the futility of what all he had gained. Today who's who of Mumbai wanted an appointment with him. He had more money than he had ever dreamt of. But his mother had died in destitution. He could not even afford decent medical care for her then. She had died in their one-room rental with a bed in one corner, kitchen in another, sink in the third and a small study table and almirah in the fourth. Today he lived alone in a five-room penthouse at a prime location of Mumbai. It had a gym, a study, master bedroom, guest rooms, half terrace and a modular kitchen that his mother would never see, never enjoy.

He had worked like a man possessed to reach where he was today but for whom? No one. He had bloody no one to call his own. And then there was Kavya Jaiswal, who he has no idea what to do with, as taking out his anger on her was not giving him the satisfaction he had hoped it would. Kavya Alok Naath Jaiswal has been nothing but a provocation since he had spotted her in that meeting four months back. It was indeed a miracle that he was still sane in spite of seeing her every day, he thought bitterly. He closed his eyes trying to push all these thoughts aside and made his way to his desk to go through the final RSVP list of the party he was hosting in a few hours to divert his mind.

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Life was not easy anywhere for poor people. And if you happen to be an illegitimate outcome of rape, then it gets mighty difficult. And that was what Swayam Raisinghania was. A bastard who did not know who his father was.

His mother Aarti, hailed from a reputed affluent landowner family of Raisinghania's in Kanpur, Uttar Pradesh. A beauty of her time, her family had started receiving marriage proposals for her when she had just turned sixteen. But her mother, Devyani, was adamant that she will complete her graduation and then only will she get married. Devyani herself had suffered a lot after marrying into sternly orthodox and stringently patriarchal Raisinghania clan and wanted to give her daughter wings of education for future life. Wings, the mere dream of which got clipped mercilessly before time.

Her beauty attracted attention at her college as well. Though Aarti was by no measure a daring girl, being born and brought up in an environment where daughters were still considered a debt that had to be paid off, she still was a spirited girl. And that only added to her charms. Her honey-brown orbs were an inspiration to many a closet poets in her college, along with her milky complexion. Unfortunately for her, her allure was attracting the attention of few anti-social elements as well. What started as eve-teasing by local goons turned into a case of ugly molestation in a matter of few days. And when her family came to know of it, they refused to take it lying down. Her brothers thrashed those goons to near their death. Aarti was made to drop out of college and her marriage was fixed for the next month. Her fate was sealed. Or so she wished!

It happened one evening. When she was returning from jewelers with her second eldest brother, their riksha was attacked by a few masked men. Her brother was brutally beaten and she was dragged to a secluded building. What happened next was the worst nightmare of any girl. She was gang-raped and then left to die in the darkness of night. As fate would have it, her brother was found by a passerby and he pointed towards the building where his sister was dragged to, before closing his eyes, forever. That night in the hospital, two children of Raisinghania's were declared dead. One by the doctors, other by the family. More than consoling that bleeding innocent girl, the family was concerned about their honor in the society. Police could never figure out that if the rapists were the goons whom Raisinghania boys had beaten, or if they were regular thieves who attacked the duo for jewelry they were carrying and raped the beautiful girl in the spur of the moment.

The shock of being violated and the added guilt of being the reason for her brother's death robbed the poor girl of her senses. She was sent to Lucknow with a maid directly from the hospital in order to suppress the gossips making rounds in their small city. The family kept mum when asked if Aarti had survived or died in the ordeal. Her absence fueled the speculation that she did not survive and the family is silent as it is grieving the loss. Meanwhile, in Lucknow, her senses came back after a few months when she realized a few changes in her body. And by the time her maid's doubts were confirmed, she was already four months pregnant. Abortion was out of the question. Her mother, who was begging her husband relentlessly to get their daughter back in the house, lost all hopes after this news. Aarti hated herself, her fate and this unborn baby. She did not want it because her family did not want her because of it. This baby had effectively shut down the doors of her house for her forever. She did not want any reminder of that night in her life. Aarti decided to give the baby up for adoption.

Only that she could not do it when the time actually came. When she held that innocent bundle in her arms for the first time. She could not find it in her to pull back the finger those tiny hands were clutching in a small fist. The connection she felt with her baby was intense, way intense than her hate. The baby was not at fault and now she very well knew how it felt to be disowned by one's own family when you needed them the most. A mother's love coupled with compassion helped her make the decision to dedicate her life to her newborn. She saw a ray of hope in her son, a purpose to live. It made her strong, stronger then she had ever felt. Aarti decided to bring up her son with utmost love. She gave him her surname as a shield to save his childhood from wagging tongues.

She pushed aside any aspirations to return back to her family, who other than sending her money never contacted her ever. It killed her soul to take money from people who were punishing her for no fault of hers in the name of family honor, but her baby needed that money. Her mother used to call her every month and write to her as well. But that was it. They never saw each other again and the money too stopped after her father died. Swayam became the center of her universe. She worked beyond her limits and tried to give her son everything in her capacity, and Swayam loved his mother beyond his capacity. He came to know of his origins when he was old enough, and other things it did than increasing his mother's respect in his eyes a thousand folds was to make him a recluse. And angry. And bitter, very very bitter. Now he knew why he did not have a father. Now he knew the reason of weird stares he has gotten all his life. Now he knew why no relative visited them. Now he knew why his mother worked alone like a slave in order to brighten his future. Now he knew that Raisinghania was not his identity. It was a charity. Now he knew that he was a bastard who nobody other than his mother wanted.

He had vowed to give his mother all the happiness in this world. To become someone so big one day that his mother would be proud of him. That day came. But Aarti had long succumbed to tuberculosis to see her son's stature.

The stature which was out for the world to see and envy today.

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Dressed in his black pin-striped tailored suit, coupled with silk grey scarf and a starched black shirt, Swayam stood with his guests at the party R&R was throwing. They had won a huge pharmaceutical case, which had not only put him in headlines of newspapers and electronic media these days but had also procured him few new extremely high-profile clients. More than to celebrate the victory, this party was to announce to the corporate and law world that R&R has moved from the big league to a league of its own. And of course, R&R staff was invited to the party as well.

So there was Kavya, dressed in a simple black net saree with few embellishments at the border, keeping in with the theme of the party - Black. Long dangling black fashion earrings and a few black bangles on her left wrist and a watch on the right were all she was adorned with. She was looking beautiful today and she knew it. She also 'knew' that her beauty was only skin deep because from inside she was as bad and as imperfect as one could be. The appreciation that was coming her way from her colleagues, although gave her a high, did not change her long-standing opinion of herself. But that did not mean she was not enjoying right now for she had learned to live with her flawed self. She has stopped running away from herself. And what good running away would do her anyway, when she has already landed up in the only place where she should have never had come.

She was standing with the rest of the secretarial staff in a corner chatting and observing big-wigs of Mumbai arriving at and enjoying the party. Party was in the full swing and gossips were churning out non-stop and Kavya was participating in it happily. She was giggling and having a good time as Mr. SR had no time to spare to torture her today. She was making full use of this respite she has gotten from their routine in the name of the party. And to add the cherry on the cake, a very good looking man asked her for a dance too. She was shy to accept at first, her conservative upbringing forbidding her from dancing in a party full of people and that too with a strange man. But after good-natured insistence from the man and nudging from her office friends, she accepted. Instead of risking appearing rude or a snob at an office party, she decided that she will try and get out of the dance asap.

But she found out that she actually enjoyed swaying to the music and as long as her partner was a dignified person, like right now, there was no harm in dancing at such parties. So, they danced to the second song smiling and chatting all the way. And compliments from fellow dancers on the floor made sure that they danced on the third song as well. After that Kavya's feet were really aching and she stopped. Her partner, Saurabh Sharma, who worked in the pharmaceutical company for which R&R has won the case, gave her his business card and amorously hoped that she would call him soon and sweetly threatened that otherwise he knew where she worked. Kavya laughed at his antics and made her way towards the restroom to check on her saree which was coming loose from various ends after so much of dancing. She thought of asking a female colleague to accompany and help her, but then everyone she knew had a dinner plate in their hands, so she went on her own.

She turned into a deserted hallway en route ladies room when her trip was cut short by a determined hand, which stealthily came from behind and grabbed her wrist. The sudden assault sent her heart spiraling into fear and she shrieked spinning around, with every intention to push the assaulter with all her might. But as soon as she turned her whole body froze realizing who the furious owner of that hand was. Her tongue practically got tied inside her mouth. She gulped. Wasn't he supposed to be the host? What was he doing here? When her other hand involuntarily moved to support the wrist which was being held hostage in his death grip, his eyes followed the movement and narrowed considerably issuing a silent challenge to her to try and free herself. She did not rise to the bait. He was holding her like he owned her. She did not object. Something in those raving mad eyes had prompted her that obeying him was the only option she had. She meekly took it. And the next thing she knew she was being dragged towards the exit without a single word spoken between them yet. She complied trying to keep up with his purposeful long strides. What has she done now? Given a chance she would have liked to know the answer to this question. But creating a scene or struggling against him? There was no point in it.

Whatever it is that he wanted from her, she knew she was going to give it to him. Always had. Save once.

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