Anurag Garg, a man in early thirties, led a comfortable life with his mother in a mansion in the posh locality in Lucknow. Aradhana, his elder sister, had settled abroad after marrying a NRI doctor. During childhood, his mother's excessive love for Aradhana filled him with a sense of deep resentment that shadowed him into adulthood. Perhaps the lack of a mother's love, more imagined than real, was the reason for his frosty relationship with his sister. Luxury cars, designer clothes, expensive watches and latest gadgets didn't excite him. In the last five years, he'd changed as many professions, but the job satisfaction eluded him. So, he worked as a freelance journalist with the print and electronic media.

Of late, people with dubious wealth had thronged his neighbourhood. His house was largest in the area with acres of greenery all around. It had three stories, a huge portico and backyard, a dozen rooms and plenty of open spaces. White exterior gave it a modest look but from inside it had lavish furnishings. The vulgar and brazen display of wealth stifled the architectural beauty, which cried for attention in a few obscure corners. A year later, the taller and bigger mansions sprang up all around and his house lost its exclusivity.

Initial education from an excellent boarding school in India and graduation from a foreign university had caused his long absence from the city. After coming back, he'd made a few friends with whom he loved to spend his evenings. During one such get-together, he got into a discussion with them about public morality. When he lost the argument, he yelled, "What do you guys know about honesty? Everybody knows how your fathers have accumulated so much wealth to build huge bungalows?"

His friends got enraged. Born and raised under the debasing influence of wealth, the corruption for them was a non-issue. One of them, the son of a senior bureaucrat who couldn't take it any further, screamed, "Shut up. Stop talking about our fathers. Did you ever try to find about yours? He was the most corrupt manager in the oil company's history. He swindled millions of rupees, constructed a mansion and splurged on his daughter's wedding. When the department ordered an inquiry against him, he disappeared. Till date, no one knows where he's hiding. So, don't preach to us about morality. Maybe our fathers aren't hundred percent honest, but in today's world, who is? At least they aren't quitters like yours."

Then they, one by one, added on to his misery with their acerbic jibes at his father. Stung, he sat motionless and listened to them. Their voices tormented him long after they had left. Distressed, he went for a long drive to calm his nerves. In a secluded place, he stopped the car and sat on the bonnet with head resting on the palm. The sky was moonless and dark. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't forget what his friends had said about his father, for whom he'd great admiration.

However hard he tried to brush it aside; their words clanged in his mind. Even a bystander could tell that the house he lived in needed a fortune to build. Neither his father had inherited any wealth, nor earned enough to afford it. So, some of the money, if not all, spent on its construction was ill-gotten. The thought that his father had swindled funds meant for the poor made him nauseous.

An intense debate about good and bad, moral and immoral, legal and illegal went on in his mind. Petrified, he shut his eyes in despair. A little later, he descended into an abyss that sucked him to its core and began churning. The dark liquid filled the chasm where hundreds of repulsive and horrible-looking creatures with horns, huge bulging eyes and open mouths rushed to eat him up. He struggled to break free from their clutches but couldn't. Terrified, he screamed, "Oh God, please save me from this."

Suddenly, he sat up and opened his eyes. Bushes and trees gleamed in the dark. Cool light soothed his nerves and breeze dried up his sweat. He took a deep breath and mumbled, 'Thank you God for saving me.' It occurred to him that there was no escape from his father's unsavoury past. Perhaps his mother and sister had turned a blind eye to it. But he must seek the truth without which his tormented soul wouldn't rest easy.

A moment's realization changed his life's perspective. The house, which earlier evoked pride in him, filled his heart with shame. He became lonelier and miserable, and wanted to run away from his home and mother to an unknown place where the cruel truth wouldn't hound him. His father's past would chase and torment him all his life unless he exorcised its ghost. Perhaps that explained his mother's prolonged prayers and his sister's reluctance to come to India. So, both the women knew the secret but denied it to him. What could be the reason? He pondered in the dark, lonesome night.

He must unearth his father's secrets at any cost. The karma would make him to atone for his father's sins. As he mulled over his future course of action, a star fell in front. He shut his eyes and made a wish. An hour later, he returned home, had a quiet dinner with his mother and went to his bedroom.

For a few days, he stayed aloof and talked little with his mother. His weird behaviour gave her sleepless nights, and she got worried when he evaded her questions. Helpless, she prayed. Somehow she'd inkling what bothered him, but was afraid to talk about it and open up her wounds.

Then one day during dinner he asked her, avoiding a direct eye contact, "Mummy, do you think there's something about father that I need to know as his son?"

His mother put the spoon down. Her face tightened and eyes blinked in quick succession. Shocked, she asked, "Anurag, what makes you think so? I've told you what you need to know about your deceased father."

Through her terse rejoinder, she made it clear to him she didn't want to talk about it anymore. She didn't want to open up a painful chapter in her life. But he insisted to know the truth, "Have you told me everything? I mean things that you and Aradhana know and I don't."

She fidgeted in the chair, wiped her mouth, gulped down a glass of water and asked, "Okay, what do you want to know about him?"

"Everything."

"Why?"

"He was my father and as his son I deserve to know all about him."

"Like?"

"Where did he work? How much was his salary? How did he get so much money in such a short time?" his voice was dispassionate.

"You doubt his integrity," she said with pain and anger in her voice.

"Yes Mummy, until I find the truth, this will linger on in my mind."

"Son, I understand your feelings, but are you ready to hear about your father whom you hold in high esteem?"

"I'll handle it."

"All right," she said, "Wait for me in the living room."

She joined him after a while. Settling on the couch, she asked, "Where should I begin?"

"From the beginning, please."

"Okay. Thirty-five years ago, I married Divakar in a simple ceremony. Ours was an arranged marriage. Coming from the family of engineers and doctors, he considered himself a loser. One day, he confided in me that his cousins' successes made him jealous. He spent his childhood in poverty and deprivation and that, perhaps, had made him greedy. Our first three years were full of hardships until he got a decent job. When things looked up, Aradhana was born."

"In 1973," he cut her short.

"Yeah. The same year we moved to Digboi, where he joined as a manager in the Oil Refinery. On weekends we went to Dibrugarh, the nearest town, to collect groceries. Those were wonderful days. Aradhana had filled our home with an abundance of joy. For a while, we lived a blissful life. A year later, a storm brewed up in the countryside of Assam. The United Liberation Front of Assam, ULFA, an underground organization, fired up the youth. Their cadres swelled up and in no time the state was in the grip of insurgency. Emboldened, the rebels indulged in the arson, looting, extortion and kidnapping. The outsiders became their soft targets."

"Was Digboi affected too?" he asked.

"Yes, of course. People in the Oil Refinery lived in perpetual fear. Some moved their families to safer places. When Divakar got the first threat, he shifted us to Lucknow in a rented accommodation. To my surprise, he built this house within a couple of years. He told me he'd taken a loan from the bank. I'd no reasons to disbelieve him. He visited us twice a year. It overjoyed us when you were born. He was desperate for a son." She gave him an affectionate look.

"So, I didn't bring bad luck in your life," he said.

"Come on, Anurag. You should never think that way. In fact, you brought so much joy and faith into my life. I was glad Aradhana had a company. My life was so blissful, but the news of Assam sent a chill down my spine. Every day, I prayed for Divakar's safety. A few years later, your father went missing. His deputy called me to give me the bad news. I rushed to Digboi, where I stayed for a month, but with no success. With a hope that Divakar would come back soon, I returned home. A month later, an officer told me that the ULFA had kidnapped Divakar and demanded a huge ransom for his release. I ran from pillar to post in Delhi and pleaded with officials to pay the money and get him free. But the heartless bureaucrats and politicians gave me only the verbal assurances. Helpless, I prayed for his safe return. To my delight I learnt one day that he'd escaped from the insurgents' captivity."

Unable to hold his excitement, Anurag asked, "What happened to my father after that?"

"For a long time, I heard nothing about him. Suddenly, my world crumbled down when the refinery officials told me they found his dead body in the forest near Dimapur. I didn't get to do his last rites. Since the body had decomposed, they had to cremate it the same day. They handed me his belongings and asked me to sign the pension papers."

"Mummy, I'm so sorry you had to go through all this."

"Nothing compared to what awaited me. A week later, the CBI officials came home and accused Divakar of financial embezzlement. Armed with a search warrant, they ransacked the house, but found nothing incriminating. They left empty-handed. I'd to defend his reputation in the court. My ordeal was over when the judge, in absence of any credible evidence and since the accused had died, set aside the case. You know whatever has happened in our lives after that."

"But something is missing in the story," he said.

"Who am I to judge after the court cleared your father? One thing I'm sure that he will not come back and so what's the point in digging up his past?" she wiped her tears.

"How did he build this mansion if he didn't get any money through dubious means?"

"I never questioned him. A wife in our society never questions her husband how he earns his money as long as he provides for his family."

"Mummy, did you ever feel guilty that you raised us on evil money?" he asked.

A feeble smile lit up her parched lips and vanished soon after. She said in a serious tone, "Son, you will never understand a woman's inner struggles. Conscience alone doesn't drive us. Pragmatism, I guess, is a more predominant feeling."

"Mummy, it might be easy for a wife to forget her husband's sins but not for a son."

"Anurag, why can't you reconcile that he's no more? Why do you want to upset our lives? Find a nice girl, get married, and if you aren't comfortable here, we can sell this house and move to a new place," she pleaded.

"I'm sorry. At the moment, marriage is the last thing on my mind. The mystery of father's disappearance gives me sleepless nights. Maybe the crooked officials cremated another body as they were in a hurry to wind up the inquiry. So, I must find out the truth. Who knows, Daddy might still be alive?"

"Anurag, is this journey so important to you?" she asked.

"Yes, Mummy."

She could see resolve in his eyes and it would be futile to expect him to cancel the trip. Resigning to her fate, she asked, "When do you plan to move out?"

After a brief pause, he replied, "In a few days. I hope to come back within a fortnight but can't be sure about it."

"All right," she wiped her tears.

Then she stood, said goodnight and walked towards her bedroom. That night the sleep eluded both for a long time, though, for different reasons. She prayed. With hopes for a last-minute miracle, she went to bed.