Ram sat perched on the edge of the balcony, the cool evening breeze ruffling his hair as he held a photograph in his hands. His eyes, usually so lively, were fixed on the image, lost in a world of memories that seemed to weigh heavily on his heart. The photograph was old, its edges worn and frayed, capturing a moment frozen in time.
Gowthami approached quietly, her footsteps soft against the floor. "Ram, dinner is ready," she said gently, hoping to coax him away from whatever sorrow seemed to hold him captive.
But Ram didn't respond. His gaze remained fixed on the photograph, his face a mask of melancholy. Gowthami stepped closer, peering over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of what had captivated him so completely.
In the photograph, she saw a gorgeous lady with striking features, her beauty evident even through the sepia tones of the old picture. Her eyes were warm, her smile radiant, and there was a gentleness about her that seemed to echo in Ram's own demeanor. The resemblance was unmistakable – this was Ram's mother.
Gowthami was aware of the woman; she was the biological mother of the ram.Gowthami's heart ached at the sight. She had heard stories about Ram's mother, how her kindness and strength had shaped him into the man he was today. But seeing her now, captured in this fleeting moment of time, brought those stories to life in a way that words never could.
She then sat down next to him and said, "Wow, Ram, your mom looks gorgeous."
He finally looked up, his eyes meeting hers, and she saw the pain there, the longing and the loss. "Yes," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "This was taken just a few years before she passed away. I miss her every day."
Gowthami nodded, understanding that deep, unending ache of losing a loved one. She squeezed his shoulder gently. "She's beautiful. You have her eyes."
"She's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," Ram said, looking up at Gowthami. "You were the only girl who entered my home after my mother departed. I felt like my mother had returned home to do Pray after a protracted absence the morning you performed it in my home."
Gowthami performed a ritual of worship and prayed for them good lives as soon as she got back to the ram home.
Gowthami sat down beside him, sharing the silence that stretched between them. The photograph seemed to glow in the fading light of the evening, a testament to a love that had shaped Ram's life and continued to influence him even now.
"Come to dinner, Ram," Gowthami urged gently. "You need to eat, and we can talk more about her if you want."
He sighed, looking once more at the photograph before setting it down carefully. "Alright," he said, his voice steadier now. "Let's go."
As they walked back inside, Gowthami felt a renewed sense of connection to Ram. She knew that the shadows of the past could never fully disappear, but together, they could face the future, carrying the memories of those they loved with them, keeping their spirits alive in their hearts.
As they walked back inside, the lingering heaviness of the balcony conversation began to lift. Ram felt a weight had been shared, making it lighter to carry. Gowthami's gentle presence was a balm, soothing the ache of old wounds.
Inside the cozy room, a playful spark lit up Gowthami's eyes as she turned to Ram, a teasing smile on her lips. "Hey Ram," she began with a mischievous tone, "since I'm marrying Rajeev, who is half your mother by default, from now on, I'm going to call you my big son. I mean, as the eldest brother's wife, it's practically my job to take care of the family mother, right?"
Ram blinked in confusion for a moment, trying to process her words. Then, as realization dawned, a grin broke across his face. He burst into laughter, the sound booming in the room and filling the space with a lighthearted warmth that seemed to push away any lingering sorrow from earlier.
"You're something else, Gowthami," Ram chuckled, shaking his head. "But I like it. Sure, I'll take on the role of the 'big son' with pride."
Just then, Rajeev entered the room, catching the tail end of their conversation. He raised an eyebrow, his eyes twinkling with amusement and affection. "Well, if that's the case," Rajeev said, stepping up to stand beside them, "I guess I'll have to start calling you 'big son' too. My wife has spoken, after all."
He placed a hand on Ram's shoulder, grinning as he added, "But right now, big son, I'm starving. Shall we go get dinner?"
Ram laughed again, his spirits lifted even higher by the banter. "I suppose you should," he replied, clapping Rajeev on the back. "But let's not get too ahead of ourselves. You're still my younger brother, and I'll always look out for you. That won't change."
Rajeev's smile softened, his eyes reflecting a deep, genuine warmth. "I wouldn't have it any other way," he said, his voice sincere. "You've always been there for me, Ram. And now, with Gowthami, we're all family. A bit unconventional, maybe, but family all the same."
Gowthami watched them, her heart swelling with affection. She had always known Rajeev and Ram shared a close bond, but seeing it firsthand like this made her feel even more deeply connected to them both. "Exactly," she said, stepping closer to the two men. "We're family, and nothing can change that. We take care of each other, no matter what."
Ram looked between Gowthami and Rajeev, his heart full. He felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude, not only for his brother but for the woman who had come into their lives and made their family even stronger. "I'm really happy Rajeev picked you, Gowthami," he said, his voice filled with sincerity. "You're perfect for him, and for this family."
For a moment, the three of them stood there, wrapped in a quiet sense of togetherness. In that stillness, they found strength in one another, bound not only by blood or marriage but by love and shared experiences. The future, though uncertain, stretched out before them—bright, hopeful, and filled with promise. No matter what challenges awaited them, they knew they would face them together, as a family.