The sun was just beginning to rise, casting a warm golden hue over Meenangadi, as Aryan tidied the small courtyard. The smell of fresh jasmine mingled with the earthy scent of the morning dew. Jimmy wagged his tail excitedly, circling Aryan as if sensing the arrival of visitors.
By mid-morning, a faint rumble of a car engine broke the calm. Aryan looked up from his work to see a familiar white sedan pulling up near the gate. His mother, Anitha, stepped out first, smoothing her sari as she smiled warmly at Aryan. Behind her, Aditi emerged, holding a tote bag and adjusting her sunglasses with exaggerated flair.
"Look at you, living the hermit life in this idyllic village," Aditi teased as she walked toward Aryan. "Next thing we know, you'll be writing poetry under a tree."
Aryan smirked, hugging his sister briefly. "At least I'm doing something productive. What's your excuse?"
"Research, dear brother," Aditi said, tapping her tote bag. "Unlike you, I have to venture into the real world for my stories."
"Enough with the banter, you two," Anitha said, her voice gentle but firm. She placed a hand on Aryan's shoulder. "It's good to see you, Arya. How have you been?"
"I've been fine, Amma," Aryan said, leading them inside. "Appuppa's been keeping me busy."
Govindan Menon was waiting on the veranda, his face lighting up at the sight of his daughter-in-law and granddaughter. "Ah, the city dwellers have arrived," he said with a chuckle. "Come, sit. We've got fresh tea brewing."
---
The morning passed with laughter and conversation as the family gathered around a hearty breakfast of dosas, chutney, and steaming cups of chai. Aditi's quick wit kept the mood light, while Anitha's gentle presence offered a calming balance. Jimmy, ever the opportunist, lingered near the table, hoping for scraps.
"So, how's the studying going?" Anitha asked Aryan as she poured herself another cup of tea.
"It's going well," Aryan replied. "Smith's been helping with mock tests, and Appuppa's stories keep me motivated."
"Stories, is it?" Govindan said with mock indignation. "I'm teaching you life lessons, boy. Don't dismiss them as mere stories."
The table erupted in laughter, and even Govindan couldn't help but grin.
---
Later in the afternoon, Anitha and Aryan sat together on the veranda. Aditi had wandered off to take photos of the picturesque village, leaving mother and son to share a rare moment of quiet. Anitha held a small leather-bound notebook in her hands, running her fingers over its worn cover.
"This belonged to your father," she said, handing it to Aryan. "He used it to jot down his thoughts during his early years in the IPS. There's a lot of wisdom in there—some of it might help you."
Aryan accepted the notebook carefully, feeling the weight of its significance. "Thank you, Amma. I'll take good care of it."
Anitha's gaze softened as she looked at him. "Your father would have been so proud of you, Arya. I see so much of him in you—the determination, the sense of justice. Just remember, it's okay to lean on others when things get tough."
Aryan nodded, his throat tightening with emotion. "I'll remember."
"We should get going soon," Anitha said, glancing at her watch. "We need to reach Trivandrum before it gets too late."
Aryan raised a brow, curious. "Trivandrum? Aren't you going to Kottayam?"
Anitha smiled gently. "The house in Kottayam is a bit lonely, Arya. With your sister working in Trivandrum, I've been staying with her. It's better than I'd like back home, and this way, we keep each other company."
Aryan nodded slowly, understanding the practicality behind the decision. "That makes sense. But it's still home, Amma."
"Always will be," Anitha said with a warm smile.
---
As evening approached, Aditi returned, her phone filled with photos of the village. "This place is ridiculously photogenic," she declared, scrolling through her gallery. "I'm thinking of pitching a feature on rural life. What do you think, Arya? Feel like being my model?"
"Pass," Aryan said, shaking his head. "You're better off using Jimmy. He's more photogenic than I am."
Jimmy barked as if in agreement, earning a laugh from everyone.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, the family gathered one last time on the veranda. Anitha lit a small lamp in the shrine corner, murmuring a prayer for Rajan. The warm glow of the flame cast a serene light over the room.
"We should get going," Anitha said eventually, standing up. "The road to Trivandrum gets tricky after dark."
Aditi handed Aryan her notebook as they said their goodbyes. "Here," she said. "Use this to jot down anything profound that comes to mind. You might surprise yourself."
Aryan accepted it with a faint smile. "I'll think about it."
Govindan walked them to the car, offering his usual quips about city folk needing to visit more often. Aryan watched them leave, his thoughts lingering on his mother's words. Despite the changes, he felt a quiet reassurance knowing his family was staying connected. As the car disappeared down the road, Aryan stood at the gate for a moment longer, clutching the two notebooks—one from his father, one from his sister. The quiet resolve in his heart grew stronger.
---
That night, under the mango tree, Aryan sat with Jimmy resting at his feet and Timmy perched silently nearby. He opened his father's notebook, the faint scent of old paper filling the air. The words within were simple yet profound, a window into Rajan Menon's thoughts and values.
As he read, Aryan felt a deep sense of connection—to his father, to his family, and to the path he was walking. Whatever challenges lay ahead, he knew he wouldn't face them alone.