It was summer weekend and Delhi's usual intensity. But Rajesh hardly registered the transition from workday to vacation. His mother's call came exactly at 8 AM, just like every Saturday morning — a routine that had survived his move to Delhi from Mumbai and indeed his growing preoccupation with the metro's mysteries. "Have you eaten breakfast?" Lakshmi Mehra's voice carried the familiar blend of concern and authority that only Indian mothers could perfect.
"I am about to, Ma," Rajesh replied, minimizing one of his data screens to focus on the call. It wasn't entirely a lie-he did have instant oatmeal sitting next to him on his messy desk, though he couldn't recall when he would make it.
"Instant food again?" She could always tell. "Beta, the recipes I sent you last week — have you at least tried one? You're in Delhi, but you're not a tourist. Cook properly."
Rajesh glanced guiltily at the pile of unopened emails containing her detailed instructions. Her culinary advice, however well-meaning, felt worlds away from his current reality. "I'll try soon, Ma," he said, sidestepping the question.
"That is what you said last week," she scolded him. "And the week before. Beta, food is energy. Your body needs real nourishment."
At that moment, there was a knock on the door. Rajesh looked over, mildly irritated. It was his neighbor, Mrs. Sharma, carrying a steel tiffin box in her hand. "You're working again, aren't you?" she asked as she stepped inside without waiting for an invitation. "I made extra rajma today. Take this and eat something proper."
Rajesh muted the call briefly to thank her, his face a mix of gratitude and embarrassment. "You're too kind, Mrs. Sharma."
"Kind? Your mother would have my head if she knew how you've been living here. Look at this place!" she scolded, gesturing to the cluttered apartment.
"Mrs. Sharma," his mother's voice rang out from his phone, loud enough to be heard, "you're an angel. Perhaps you should adopt him — he's clearly forgotten how to take care of himself."
Rajesh groaned but smiled. Mrs. Sharma laughed, putting the tiffin on the counter before leaving. "I'll check on you tomorrow. Don't make me regret this kindness, Rajesh."
He tried to steer his mother towards the inevitable lecture. "See? I'm eating."
"Eating other people's food isn't the same as taking care of yourself, beta."
His laptop chimed with a new alert — another anomaly in the passenger data. His fingers itched to investigate, but he forced himself to remain present. "How is your arthritis? Did you go to Dr. Gupta like I asked?"
"More you worry about yourself," she said. "Mrs. Kapoor's son spotted you around the metro station again. She says you look thinner these days. Are you even taking breaks?"
Rajesh pushed away a sigh. "The metro system is complicated, Ma. I cannot just switch off."
"That's exactly what your father used to say," she said, and a faint tinge of an old sadness crept into her voice. "And look where that got him."
The silence stretched uncomfortably. Rajesh eventually broke it. "I'm being careful, Ma. It's just that this project. there's something happening in the metro system. Something no one else has noticed."
"The metro will still be there tomorrow, beta. But people. people don't stay forever. Speaking of which, when are you going to give me some good news? Look at all your friends. Arjun has twins now!"
Rajesh winced. He knew this was coming. "Ma, I'm not exactly ready for all that."
"Ready? Beta, at this rate, your future wife will have to find you under all this mess!"
At that moment, his maid, Sunita, arrived. She let herself in, waving her hand in front of her nose. "Rajesh bhaiya, this smell. how do you live like this?"
"It's not that bad," he muttered, but Sunita shook her head.
"Not bad? There's food containers here from last week! And see, this dust. What do people say?"
Sunita's running commentary over his mother's voice from the phone. "See? Even your maid is scolding you! Rajesh, this is not normal. When you first moved in you were so neat and clean. What happened?"
Rajesh pinched the bridge of his nose. "Been busy."
"Busy or disconnected?" His mother's words had cut deeper than he wanted them to. "You sound worlds away, even when we're talking. It's like you're slipping, beta."
His mother's concern lingered in the air, heavier than the smell Sunita was currently battling. "I'll call you tonight," he said finally. "We'll have dinner together over video, like we used to when I was in Mumbai. You can show me how to make dal properly."
It was a peace offering, a small attempt to bridge the growing distance. His mother's smile was audible in her voice. "Eight o'clock? Promise?"
"Promise, Ma."
After hanging up, Rajesh turned back to his computers, but his mother's words echoed in his mind. The metro's mysteries had consumed his thoughts, turning him into someone he barely recognized. Yet that daily call remained his anchor to normality, a reminder of who he used to be.
As he stared at the blinking anomaly on his screen, his phone buzzed with a message from Meera. "Dinner?" it read. The one word carried layers of emotion — frustration, hope, and a touch of exasperation. He'd promised her yesterday.
Feeling the twinge of guilt rise again, he texted, "Sorry, got caught up. Can we reschedule?"
Her reply came almost in a flash. "Caught up again? Rajesh, this is the third time. You know, the world doesn't revolve around your work."
Rajesh hesitated. He did not want to fight but Meera's words hurt. She was right-she had been neglected by him. "I know, Meera. I'll make it up to you. How about tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow isn't the point," she shot back. "It's about priorities, Rajesh. You make time for your work, your mysteries, but not for people who care about you."
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I do care, Meera. It's just this project, it's important."
"And what about us? Are we not important?" Her voice, only text on the screen, felt as sharp as if she were standing in the room.
He stared at her message, the weight of her words pressing down on him. "You are," he replied, his fingers hesitant over the keyboard. "I'll call you later tonight. Let's talk then?"
"Fine," was all she sent back, and Rajesh knew he'd hurt her.
The guilt stayed with him as he returned to his data. But now, even the metro's mysteries seemed less absorbing, overwhelmed by the cracks appearing in his relationships. He looked at the framed photo on his desk, his mother's words echoing in his mind: "People don't stay forever."
For a moment, he thought to close his laptop and walk outside. Perhaps there was still time to catch up with Meera before she gave up on him for good. But the anomaly blinked again, calling him back to its endless dance. With a resigned sigh, he sank deeper into his chair, the world outside his apartment growing fainter with each passing hour.
The weekend played out in its now-familiar pattern of digital preoccupation. He missed another cricket game, ignored more messages from Meera, and added to the growing collection of delivery food containers. But at eight o'clock, he propped his phone up on the kitchen counter and called his mother.
"See? Your old pressure cooker still works perfectly," she said, showing him the right way to temper the dal. The sounds and smells of her Mumbai kitchen were a brief respite from his digital maze.
He even managed to eat while they talked, his mother watching to ensure each bite. They discussed family gossip, neighborhood news, and her latest battle with the kitchen renovation contractors. For an hour, the metro's mysteries retreated, replaced by the comfort of routine and relationship.
Yet even as they spoke, his eyes kept drifting to his laptop screen, where the system's patterns continued their hypnotic dance. His responses grew distracted, his attention divided between his mother's words and the data's silent call.
" Beta," she said finally, noticing his wandering focus, "whatever this project is, don't let it become everything. Your father—"
"I know, Ma," he interrupted gently. "I'm being careful."
But as Sunday night gave way to Monday morning, Rajesh found himself back at his desk, chasing digital shadows through the metro's neural network. His mother's concerns, like those of his friends and Meera, faded before the compelling puzzle of the system's behavior.
The weekend ended with another early morning call. "Just checking if you're awake," his mother said, her voice carrying both worry and resignation from hundreds of miles away.
"Always, Ma," he said, his eyes glued to the screens. "Always."
It was now dawn and lightening into the day. Rajesh continued his lonely search in the wake of stirring Delhi. The walls of his apartment reflected his obsessions but that single photo on the bedside table reminded him of links yet not totally severed. His life was claimed by the metro but mother's voice was a thin string still connecting him to the world he was slowly moving away from.
Just when the dawn's light began to caress his windowpane, his phone buzzed again, this time with a message from Neha.
"Rajesh, I don't know if you've heard yet, but Vikram's left," Neha's message started, followed by a single crying emoji. "They're bringing in someone new to handle our department. Supposedly, he's some bigwig from Bangalore."
Rajesh blinked at the message. The shock of it made his heartbeat race.
"Left? Like this?" Rajesh quickly replied with a text.
"Yeah. It's all quite sudden. They did not even tell us why. One minute he was there and then he's gone. No goodbyes," Neha said. "So we are to just deal with whoever comes next, right? Just thought you ought to know."
Rajesh felt his chest grow tight; he was not sure whether it was because of shock or the brewing sense of doom. Vikram had always supported Rajesh's deep dive into the metro's data, though there had been moments where Vikram, concerned about Rajesh's focus, had asked him to pull back. "Focus on your work, Rajesh. The metro's issues can't become your personal obsession," Vikram had advised more than once. But Vikram had always been there, in his own way.
Now that the new director was appointed, Rajesh didn't know where he stood on all this. What was the new director going to make of his fixation with anomalies? Were they going to just cancel everything? The very idea twisted his stomach.
He opened the next email from work; it was an official announcement about the appointment of the new director: "Anil Kumar.the one who has spearheaded innovative data analysis and made decisive high-level decisions.".
Rajesh read the name over again. Anil Kumar. He'd heard the name before — someone with a reputation for making data-driven decisions, someone known for cutting through the noise and focusing solely on the bottom line.
"That's great," Rajesh muttered to himself sarcastically. It felt like the beginning of the end for everything he'd been working on.
As if she felt his irritation, Neha sent another message. "I know this sucks, but try to stay calm. We'll figure it out. Maybe this new guy will surprise us."
Rajesh sat back in his chair, eyes glued to the screen. He shut down the email and sat back, part of him wanting to be mad, feeling betrayed by Vikram's leaving, but he knew that wasn't going to help. But it wasn't true. Vikram had never been the heart of the project. He'd always been the anomaly, the thing that was pulled in by the very systems he was trying to comprehend. Now, though, he knew there was going to be someone on his case, and the concerns weren't just about the data anymore.
He glanced at his phone again. Meera had sent a follow-up message: "I'm sorry, Rajesh. I didn't mean to make you feel guilty. I just need to know you're still here with me. If you're not ready for us, I'll understand, but don't keep me hanging."
The guilt from Meera's words hit him again but the weight of his work was heavier. He sent back, "I'm still here. Just trying to figure things out. Let's talk later tonight, okay?"
The message was brief, but that was the best he could do for now. The hours dragged on and, in their familiar grip, pulled him toward the metro's mysteries; however, the looming presence of the new director made him wonder how long he could sustain the balance between his obsession and his connections.
The peaceful interlude of the weekend, transitory as it had been, seemed to slip further away with every new change — at work, in his relationships, and inside himself. Rajesh took one last look at the metro's data, where patterns seemed to shift in front of his eyes, as if the system itself were responding to the disruption in his life.
Now, there would be no easy way out. The anomalies were remaining but so was the rest of his life between the two, caught and more lost than ever Rajesh found himself.