"I'm afraid, Ma. I can't accept these gifts." Ishit said, giving the spatial satchel a rueful look. He was in dire need of these things, especially of the pottalikam (spatial purse) and the kaal-yantra (watch). Even so, he couldn't take them, not at all, if they were sent by his uncle.
Padma's beaming face fell.
"Ishit, he loves you," said she as her eyes dulled.
"And he also hates lord Father," Ishit wished he could say differently. "What is the point in loving a fruit when you hate the tree. Once you cut it down, the fruit will die too. I'm sorry Ma. Tell him I loved his gifts, but I can't take them. " Ishit said, not daring to look into her mother's teary eyes.
He felt helpless. He did want to bring the two families together. But it was just a dream. The hostility between the two families went back a long way. It had started with his grandfather Manu who perished resisting the conqueror's forces. His mother's swayamvar had worsened it further.
