The Brightest Fell

by Nupur Chowdhury

  Though old, the house was well maintained and retained much of its original beauty. The brick façade and large, wood-framed windows reminded Abhijat of his grandfather’s booming laughter, and the aroma of a home-cooked lunch wafting through the garden as he helped Rito build mud-castles near the flower beds. He remembered playing in this garden, pushing a giggling Rito on the swing even as their mother admonished them through the kitchen window to slow down, to be careful.

  How he had wished to be back in this house every time he was home on leave over the past three years. How he had missed it in the cavernous rooms and elegant chambers of Qayit Hall.

  And now he was back, the soft grass of the front yard under his feet, the polished wood front door welcoming him home. And it felt more like an exile than a homecoming.

  His gut clenched with an emotion he couldn’t name, and he grit his teeth before making his way down the garden path and up the stairs to the front door. Sucking in a deep breath, he took hold of the metal knocker with the lion’s head at its base and knocked twice, sharply.

  It wouldn’t do to return home in a bad mood. The last thing his parents needed now was to have to deal with their eldest child’s inability to manage his own emotions. Standing up straight with his shoulders back, he tried to make himself smile. Confident and happy. If he could give his mother nothing else, he could at least give her this.

  The lock clicked and the ancient door creaked open.

  And then a tall, chubby creature launched herself at him with an excited war-cry that might have been some distorted sisterly rendition of his name.

  “You should have told me you were coming home. I’d have picked you up from the airport,” Abhijat told his sister as his mother fussed over both of them, telling the harried-looking housekeeper what refreshments would be required to feed her children.

  Abhijat noted with a vague sense of alarm that the list of food items she rattled off sounded more like a very large dinner than a light evening snack.

  “I’m not a child, Abhi,” Rito snapped, flopping onto the sofa and flipping the TV remote in her hand like a juggler. “In fact, I’ll be 26 next month, in case you’ve forgotten. I can book a cab on my own.”

  “I haven’t forgotten your age. I just can’t help but remember how much of a klutz you are.” Rito scooted over and he sat beside her, making a half-hearted attempt to steal the remote, which was quickly thwarted by her elbow thrust into his ribs. “Ouch.”

  “Weakling.”

  “Slob.”

  “You’ll both be eating boiled broccoli for dinner unless you quit fighting,” their mother informed them, poking her head out of the kitchen.

  “Where’s Papa?” he asked her, still trying to steal the remote from his sister, though more quietly this time.

  “He went out to meet Ruqaiya and buy something for your sister to wear,” she said, stepping back into the kitchen. “It’s far too hot here for her university clothes.”

  He turned to Rito, frowning. “How long are you here for?”

  “A couple of months,” she shrugged noncommittally, relinquishing the remote to pick at a loose thread on her oversized t-shirt.

  “I didn’t know you had a vacation scheduled this month.”

  Rito pulled her feet up to sit cross-legged on the sofa, her bright orange track pants stark against the pristine white cushions. Abhijat loved his sister dearly, but her taste in clothing made his eyes water. How Lyani Shian’s daughter had ended up with such a horrendous fashion sense was beyond him.

  Rito noticed him side-eyeing her pants and scowled. “They’re comfy, okay? Not everyone can be stuffed into a stiff old uniform all the time. It’s like being dressed in cardboard–” she stopped, bit her lip, then looked up at him guiltily. “I’m sorry,” she mouthed, glancing worriedly in the direction of the kitchen.

  Abhijat shook his head. “Don’t be ridiculous. There’s nothing to be sorry for. It was just a job. Nobody died.”

  Rito pressed her lips together and looked away. After a few seconds of silence, she sighed. “I didn’t. Have a vacation scheduled, I mean. I just thought it’d be nice to take a break. Come home for a few weeks,” she once again spared a nervous glance in the direction of the kitchen. “See how you guys are doing. You know, spend some time with my family.”

  Abhijat could tell that wasn’t the whole story. But before he could ask any questions, their mother appeared again at the kitchen door. “You shouldn’t have come home, darling. We were managing perfectly well here, especially now your brother’s back. There was some trouble for a couple of weeks, I know, but that’s all over now. Your studies are more important. You need to complete your thesis this year, don’t you?”

  “It doesn’t matter, Maa,” Rito laughed, fixing her eyes on the TV. “I’ll study at home.”

  “I’m not here on vacation,” Rito blurted the moment they stepped out of the house for a walk after tea.

  “I know.” Abhijat looked back to make sure that the front door was shut behind them, before taking his sister by the hand and leading her out of the main gates.

  “Where are we going?”

  “To get ice-cream.”

  Rito frowned. “Why?”

  “Because I haven’t seen you this jittery and nervous in years. It’s not like you to be nervous.”

  “Then you should buy me a drink.”

  “I would, if I didn’t think our mother would disinherit me. And we both know who has the real money in this family.”

  Rito giggled as they stepped out into the street. “I’m sorry you had to come back, Abhi. I know how much you hate Qayit.”

  “I don’t hate it. And you’re changing the subject.” He let go of her hand. “What happened at uni?”

  She shrugged. “Nothing happened. Not in the way you’re thinking. ‘Cause I can tell what you’re thinking, Abhi, and it wasn’t like that. There’s no one you need to murder in Weritlan.

  “No one told me to leave, not outright. And I could’ve stayed if I’d really wanted to. It’s just…it got uncomfortable, you know.” She sighed, picking at one of her many beaded bracelets as she walked. “After the scandal broke, it was like everybody wanted to see me, talk to me, tell me how it wasn’t my fault.

  “Gosh! It’s not even that they were mean or spiteful or anything like that. Most of them weren’t. And I didn’t care about the ones that were. They weren’t the problem.”

  “I’d think not,” Abhijat grinned, forcing himself to keep his tone light, despite the ringing in his ears. “You never had a problem giving as good as you got.”

  Rito laughed as a car sped by them, a shaggy dog gazing out at the world from one of its rear windows. “I learned from the best, after all.” She bumped her shoulder against his. “But no, it was the sweet, sympathetic ones that were the problem. God, if anyone ever tells me something isn’t my fault again, I think I’ll smash a vase on their head.”

  “I’ll buy you a new vase. But why did you leave? Don’t tell me you left ‘cause you couldn’t handle the awkward solicitousness of misguided graduate students, because I wouldn’t believe you.”

  Rito sighed, raising a hand to snag a flower from the low-hanging branch of a nearby tree. She smelled it, then stuck it into her messy ponytail. “Professor Ishika said my presence could cost the university grant money from donors who wanted to get into the good books of the new Prime Minister. Which, let’s be honest, is pretty much all of them. The former lead scientist of the Amven project at the Qayit Research Institute? The academia loves him. And the corporates don’t want to cross him. At least not for now.”

  Abhijat saw red. He clenched his fists, and for a second, genuinely regretted not shooting Fasih the moment he’d first laid eyes on him. The firing squad would have been worth it, for this.

  He could forgive Fasih the loss of his own military career. But not this. Not his sister’s dreams. Her passion. Rito had wanted to be a professor for as long as he could remember. She’d always loved education, litt
le freak that she was. Never missed school for anything less than a broken bone.

  And she deserved it too, he knew she did. With their family’s connections, she could have had her choice of universities, could have enrolled into any program that caught her fancy.

  But she hadn’t. She’d studied diligently for every exam and taken every test as one of the millions of anonymous students vying for a PhD seat. And when the University of Weritlan had offered her a seat after extensive rounds of interviews, she’d taken it and flown off to Ishfana, despite the fact that she could have gotten into some of the most prestigious programs at Qayit University with little more than a phone call from their grandfather.

  And now, just as she was within touching distance of the goal that she’d worked for all these years, Fasih had to come along and destroy everything. And for what? To become the ringmaster of the circus that was Parliament House? He certainly didn’t seem to care about the job – or the country – any more than Abhijat cared about being his bodyguard. If anything, he seemed to think this whole bloody mess was one big puzzle that’d be fun to solve.

  Well, that wasn’t a good enough reason to destroy so many lives. To tear down his family’s reputation, his mother’s smile, and his sister’s lifelong dream. And if it was the last thing he did in his life, Abhijat would make sure Jehan Fasih paid for what he had done.

  Rito snapped her fingers inches from his eyes, pulling him out of his thoughts. “Earth to Abhi. Who’re you planning to kill now? Professor Ishika? Jehan Fasih? Well, curb your murderous instincts, brother mine. It wasn’t as bad as you’re imagining. Professor Ishika likes me, you know that. She always has–”

  “She’s the Vice Chancellor of one of the country’s largest universities! How could she–”

  “She could because she had to,” Rito cut him off, skipping past him and through the doors of the ice-cream parlor. By the time Abhijat followed her in, Rito had already snagged a table and was looking through the menu card.

  He sat down on the seat across from her and she passed him the spare menu. “Prof has more to worry about than the career of a single student, Abhi. She couldn’t risk everything just for me. Besides, it’s not like she told me to leave. She didn’t, really.” She reached out to squeeze one of his hands under the table. “I left of my own volition. And when I told her I’d be returning home, she said I could come back and complete my PhD in a couple of years, after things had quieted down a little bit, you know.”

  They gave their orders to the waiter, who emerged from behind the counter in a bright pink apron embroidered with ice-pops and waffle cones. Or rather, Rito ordered for the both of them. She was going to eat half his ice-cream anyway, and they both knew it.

  “And Nikita? What did she have to say about all this?” Abhijat had never liked his sister’s girlfriend. He’d never told her that, however, because he wasn’t even sure why he didn’t like her. It wasn’t that she was ever impolite or inattentive, to Rito or their family. Quite the opposite, actually. She’d always been too polite, too considerate, too obliging.

  Abhijat hadn’t wanted to believe it, but somewhere at the back of his mind, he’d always had the sneaking suspicion that Nikita only liked Rito because of who her father was.

  To his surprise, his sister threw her head back and laughed. “Oh, she fucked off weeks ago. The day that Papa resigned, to be exact. Said the coursework had gotten too hectic for her to focus on a relationship right now. She’s always been a career woman, as you know. Although she did postpone the submission of her thesis by a year ‘cause she didn’t want to leave uni without me.”

  “That fucking–”

  Rito waved a hand. “Don’t bother, Abhi. I know you thought I was an innocent who didn’t know what she was getting herself into, but I’m not, okay? I know what Nikita is, I always did. You think I care she broke up with me?

  “You think that’s what I’m worried about right now, when Papa is a hair’s breadth from full-blown depression, Maa is falling apart at the seams pretending everything’s okay, and you’ve left the army to become the shadow of the man who started it all? Really Abhi, is that how little you think of me?”

  “Of course not. I just,” he swallowed, closed his eyes. “I just thought you loved her.”

  Rito snickered. “Loved her? That parasite in human form? In the three years I’ve known her, she’s never once remembered to take her purse on a dinner date.”

  “Then why–”

  “’Cause she had a nice ass, okay? Gosh Abhi, stop being such a prude, will you? Next thing I know, you’ll be telling me to take a vow of chastity.”

  “You’re ridiculous.”

  “And you’re a virgin. So we’re even. Now, on to the important stuff. How do I tell Maa and Papa that I won’t be going back to Weritlan without causing the shitstorm of the century and ruining what semblance of peace they’ve managed to find?”

  Abhijat sighed, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “If Papa finds out–”

  “He’ll blame himself, I know. He’ll think it’s his fault I had to leave uni.”

  “Yeah. He already blames himself for me coming back to Qayit. And now springing this on him so soon after–”

  “Wouldn’t be ideal, I can imagine.” Their ice-cream arrived, and Rito tucked in with gusto. “It’d be better if I could find something else before breaking the news to them. But I can’t imagine what other university would want to incur the wrath of the current Prime Minister by offering me a seat so soon after the whole blowup.”

  Abhijat sighed around a spoonful of his own purple-and-green concoction. It was surprisingly unrevolting. “Don’t worry about it. Just…I’ll find a way. Just trust me, okay?”

  He was nine again, helping a five-year-old Rito onto the swing, telling her he wouldn’t let her fall off, wouldn’t let her get hurt. Telling her to trust him.

  He was her big brother, and he would always find a way. It was his job, after all.

  Rito hummed and stuck her tiny plastic spoon into his ice-cream, removing a massive chunk of purple cream and shoving it into her mouth with a sigh of contentment. “I do trust you, which is why I’ve been saving the most important question for last.” She waggled her eyebrows. “How’s our new pretty-boy Prime Minister?”

  Abhijat rolled his eyes before popping another spoonful of ice-cream into his mouth. “You’re incorrigible. And he’s a man. Just in case you hadn’t noticed.”

  “I had,” she said mournfully. “Face like that is wasted on a man, don’t you think? Still, aesthetic appreciation can’t be confined to a gender, of course. And he seems to have taken quite a shine to you, from what I’ve been seeing on TV.”

  Abhijat pointed his spoon at her and said in as threatening a voice as one could manage with a tiny plastic utensil for a weapon, “Finish your ice-cream, young lady”.

  “Let me take you out to lunch.” Abhijat smiled and pushed himself off the wall he had been leaning against, as Ruqaiya stepped out of the meeting room alongside the new ministers of finance and urban development. Both their predecessors had lost their positions because of the corruption scandal that had given Fasih the premiership. They nodded at him and continued down the corridor, leaving Ruqaiya alone with Abhijat.

  “How sweet,” she smirked, handing him her coat as she rummaged in her handbag for a scarf. “Where’s your charge?”

  “Locked up in a meeting with the Maralanese delegates. Been in there for the last two hours. Doesn’t look like he’s coming out anytime soon.”

  “Well, shouldn’t you be keeping an eye on him?” Her tone suggested she expected him to do more than just ensure Fasih’s security.

  “There isn’t much I can do with him in a closed-door meeting and cameras around every corner. Besides, I need to talk to you. It’s urgent.”

  “Is it, now? More urgent than my mid-day salad?”

  “My sister’s back from university. Permanently.”

  Ruqaiya stopped mid-stride and stared at him. “Oh,” she
said at length. “I guess lunch it is, then.”

  “So, I’m guessing Rajat and Lyani don’t know about any of this yet. ‘Cause Rajat didn’t say anything the last time I saw him.” Ruqaiya took a sip of her orange juice before returning to the salad. All Abhijat could detect on her plate was a forest of lettuce interspersed with some tomatoes and olives.

  “No they don’t. And I swear to God, Qia, if you tell my father anything–”

  “My lips are sealed.” she mimed zipping her lips shut and throwing away the key. “Now spill. What happened to the girl? Nikita, was it?”

  “They broke up. Rito doesn’t seem to care, though.”

  “I wouldn’t either if I were her. Nasty piece of work. Told your sister she wouldn’t do, last time I was in Weritlan. Not that she was ever serious about her, of course.”

  Abhijat frowned. “Was I the only one who didn’t know about any of this?”

  “So when are you planning to tell them? Your parents, I mean. You’ll have to, eventually. Can’t very well send your sister back to Weritlan without a university to attend.”

  “Soon as I can figure out how to break it to them without making everything worse. Without adding to their worries and making Papa blame himself.”

  Ruqaiya sighed, chasing an olive across the plate with her fork. “I don’t think there is a way to keep Rajat from blaming himself. You are his children, after all. He’d feel responsible no matter what you said. I think the only thing you can do is to tell the truth and give it some time. They’ll get over the initial shock eventually. Your father didn’t survive so many years in politics by being easily overwhelmed.”

  Abhijat nodded, gritting his teeth and staring out the window. “Damn Fasih! Every time I think it couldn’t possibly get any worse…”

  “Our redoubtable Prime Minister finds a way to screw us over some more.”

  Abhijat’s phone pinged. Fishing it out of his pocket, he squinted down at the screen and swore.

  “What?” Ruqaiya looked up from her lettuce-filled plate.