Before you start reading: I now know that Subramaniya is depicted with the Vel, which is a spear or a javelin, according to Wikipedia, but I can't figure out any dances Suna Hara can make with a spear, so I'm turning it into a gold sword. Also, the God does wield a sword, but it's not gold. I'm sorry that I have not that much knowledge on Hindu mythology or mythological objects.

Oh, I would like to apologise in advance for my French. I'm still on my first year and I missed a few classes because of something really bad that happened.

Thank you for sticking up with me (did I use that expression right?) and carry on reading. It makes me happy.


Next year came and Arthur turned twelve, but his daddy couldn't be there to celebrate it with him because he had been called, the previous day, to the military headquarters in New Delhi, forcing him to take the first train to the city, leaving his son lots of kisses and a gift to be opened first – if he was not there to see it for himself – in his birthday. Arthur had been hoping that he would show up in the last minute, give him a big hug, one of those hugs he loved so much when they lifted him off the ground, and tell him "Happy birthday, little cherry"

But that didn't happen, as he woke up on the day of his birthday and, with a smile on his face, ran to his daddy's room. Finding it empty didn't discourage the little boy, as he ran downstairs to meet Gupta and ask him if his daddy had come overnight "I'm very sorry, young Sri Arthur, but Sri Howard hasn't come" the boy's face fell as he heard the servant's hard yet kind words. He had hoped for a last minute surprise, but nothing.

Arthur turned around with a sad expression on his face and went back to bed, ignoring Gupta's "Happy birthday, young Sri Arthur". He sneaked under the covers again and waited for the tears to come, hearing the sounds of chirping birds and wind ruffling the leaves of the tall palm trees that surrounded the house.

The tears came quicker than he had expected.

He celebrated his birthday with Gupta and Mademoiselle Bonnefoy, who brought him a couple of gifts. He smiled politely, the way he had been taught to do by his parents back in England, and thanked them for their kind gifts, but he still couldn't shake off the feeling that his daddy should have been there with him, in his special day.

"Maintenant, Arthur, let's open ton papa's gift, shall we?" Mademoiselle Bonnefoy said with a broad smile on her pretty face, clapping her hands together behind Arthur's chair, mixing English and French like she always did. She had told him it was because she spoke only French with her brother, and she sometimes forgot she was talking to an English native speaker.

Arthur smiled sadly as Gupta brought a long box that was very well wrapped to be from his daddy, so it was sure that either the servant or the governess had taken their time to do so. He was very sloppy when it came to crafts, that was why his mother had always taken care of wrapping presents for their children on birthdays and Christmas.

"Yes. Quite, quite" he whispered in a very sulky mood he tried not to make noticeable to his servants and friends. He was presented with the box and both adults looked at it expectantly, waiting for something to come out of it, or something like that. Arthur sighed and mumbled "Daddy" before sliding the silk ribbon off.

He put the red ribbon to one side and unwrapped the orange paper from around the long box he then proceeded to open. Arthur's face lit up in a golden colour. Gupta and Mademoiselle Bonnefoy gasped as the little boy took it out gently.

"I can't believe my eyes" Gupta said in an awed whisper, without taking his sight from the object in question "It's the gold sword of Subramaniya!" the boy and the woman looked at him and then back at the slightly curved sword which rested on Arthur's hands.

"I-It's better if we left l'épée dans le boîte" Mademoiselle Bonnefoy said gently as she took the sword, elegantly engraved with the epic texts of the Mahabharata, from Arthur's hands and put it back on the box, without putting the lid on. She was trying to understand some of the words on the sword. She had taken a few classes on Sanskrit, but she could not make out very much.

Arthur would have thought it was the best present he could ever had received, but he didn't, because, at that moment, the best present would be his dad's presence. He asked for permission to leave the table and, even though they were going to bring the cake at that moment, Gupta didn't put an objection, and neither did Marianne. He walked upstairs like the most miserable person in the world and sat on his bed, just waiting.

He heard a bird singing behind him, so he got down from the bed and crossed the room to get to the closed window – which, according to his father and Gupta, had to remain closed always, especially at night – and opened it. The house, more precisely the part where Arthur's room was located, was surrounded by tall palm trees and overlooked the forest. There was a branch beneath the window where a bird was chirping

Arthur looked at the bird, rather, admired it, with his head on his hands and his elbows on the window's ledge. He was silent, as to not startle the bird and make it fly away.

The bird was small and very colourful, which was in tune with the colours of the jungle. It had a large orange beak, which opened and closed as it sang a lovely tune. The bird's head was coloured grey, an ash grey. It had a very beautiful green colour on its' back, blue wings and tail and a yellow neck and chest, it was not a bright yellow; it was more like a canary yellow. It was a very beautiful bird, something one would see in a book about exotic birds of the farthest corners of the world.

But he was in one of the exotic corners of the world, and was not seeing the bird's picture; rather he was watching it live from his bedroom's window. He believed it was a stork-billed kingfisher.

He wished he could be that bird. He would fly up and away, overlooking the river, the beautiful flowery garden, the village that was off limits to him by his father's orders and Gupta's advice, the lush rainforests that surrounded it, and the tall mountains where Gupta had told him a palace laid hidden. But most importantly, he would fly all the way to New Delhi and rest on his daddy's shoulder. He sighed and went over to his desk where a piece of bread was resting on a porcelain plate. It had been the remains of that morning's breakfast.

He grabbed some crumbs in his small hands and spread them on the ledge carefully "Goodbye, bird" he whispered as he closed the window and went back to his bed, watching the colourful bird fly from the branch to the ledge and munch the crumbs. He was mesmerized by that until he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder, which startled him, forcing him to turn around "DADDY!" his face brightened as Howard picked him up, kissing his both cheeks, then his nose, his lips, his eyelids, his forehead and all over his face "When did you get here?" he asked after all the proper greetings had been done.

Howard smiled down at his son, who he put down on the bed again "I arrived half an hour ago and Gupta told me you had been sulking, so I took my time downstairs, had a cup of tea while you were here, and then I came" he said with a smirk on his face, retelling his devilish plan to surprise his son.

"What a meanie!" Arthur said, punching his arm jokingly. Howard laughed at the little strength his son had. The boy then hugged him by the middle. Howard kissed his boy's blonde hair and smelled his strawberry-like natural scent.

"Happy birthday, little cherry" he said, against his son's hair. Arthur blushed and hugged tighter. That had been the best gift he had received that day.


Screaming was heard from inside the precarious house in the heart of the village. A woman's screaming that penetrated the night air. She seemed to be in pain, and that alerted some of the neighbours, that came out of their houses just to see what was going on. The screaming came to a stop when they could hear a baby's crying. The people that had gathered outside the house were overjoyed and began thanking the Gods and Goddesses for the new addition to their community.

For a moment, everything was silent except from the neighbours talking about how glad they were for the baby, and then sounds of argument between a man and a woman were heard inside the house. It was growing louder and louder, and someone was crying, as well as the baby "This is a dishonour!" a man yelled loudly, silencing the other voices, but not the baby's strong one.

Upon hearing that, some of the neighbours left and other wondered what had happened "But Drishya is not married! How can she have a baby?" a man in the crowd said out loud, making others re-think their joy about the baby. Most of them were scandalized.


Heavy rain started to pour. It was monsoon season after all, and if the rain had not bothered Arthur on the morning of his birthday or Howard on his arrival to the city it had been because of sheer luck, or as the Gods' present to the little boy who explored their culture with so much respect. The carriage that had taken Howard from the train station to the village had got stuck several times in the mud after a terrible non-stop rain the previous two days.

They had finished dinner and Gupta was washing the dishes in the kitchen, as Howard was walking little Arthur up the stairs to his bedroom, where he would tuck his son in the bed, make sure that the window was closed and locked, and tell him a story before going to bed. Then, he would go to his studio, have a brandy and a cigar, to relax before going to bed.

But something interrupted their nightly rituals, something that would change their lives.

There was a knock on the door that got Howard's attention immediately. Who would knock on the door of someone's house during the night in monsoon season? As Gupta walked over to the front entrance of the house, he believed that it might be a poor person that was caught in the rain and wanted some shelter. He left Arthur on the tenth step of the staircase as he also went to see who it was.

Gupta opened the door and found no one but a wicker basket on the wooden floor of the entrance, protected from the rain by the canopy. Howard looked over Gupta's shoulder and his attention was caught, as well, by the wicker basket that looked like the ones cobras come from, and he was scared that something like that would happen, until they heard a sound, which was also heard by Arthur, who hadn't moved from the stairs, watching the scene develop in front of him with quite curiosity.

It was a baby's cry and it was coming from inside the basket.

Gupta looked back at Howard with wide eyes and the broader Englishman opened the door wider so the servant could get the wet, slightly heavy and moving basket inside the house. Howard closed the door and removed the flower vase from the middle of the round entry table, where they set the basket. Arthur was watching with awed eyes, and so were the two males standing there.

Gupta grabbed the lid and, casting a worried glance at Howard, lifted it and then putting it on the table next to the basket, where the three persons in the room could see a beautiful pale baby with big blue eyes, wrapped in a fluffy white cloth, crying and writhing. Gupta put his hands together over his chest and gasped, closing his eyes. Howard felt something he couldn't quite put a finger on, but somehow, he knew that all that was his fault.

Arthur could perfectly see the baby from where he was standing, but his father had his back at him and Gupta was partially blocked by his daddy's stocky frame.

There was a note attached to the baby's sheet by a pin. Gupta picked it up and gave it to Howard with a certain uncertainty. Howard grabbed the note and began reading it.

Howard,

I'm very sorry to have to impose this charge on you, but I can't handle it myself. I'm very weak in spirit and you have a good economic position to take care of the fruit of our fleeting love.

Love him like a mother would have. Please, don't tell him I abandoned him this way. That would break his little heart.

I hope you both can forgive me,

Drishya.

Howard gulped and almost passed out, but he was quickly held by Gupta when he saw his master growing pale and stumbling with the note on his hand "Are you okay, Sri Howard?" he asked genuinely concerned for him "Come, sit here" he quickly grabbed one of the Louis XVI chairs that laid on both sides of the door and gently sat Howard on it.

Arthur, upon seeing his father being helped down by Gupta, decided to walk downstairs and towards where the action was taking place. The baby was still crying and Howard felt as if his cries were penetrating through his skull, making him feel lightheaded and terribly guilty and ashamed. Arthur put his little hand on his father's arm, which was hanging loose at his side and asked "Are you okay, daddy?"

"No" Howard said in a whisper. His son and Gupta were paying attention to both him and the baby in the wicker basket "I'm not, son" Arthur gasped and put his hands over his open mouth. Even though Howard was his father, he had only once called him "son" and that was when he had been mad at him for breaking something he now didn't remember.

"I will bring you some tea" Gupta said as he walked out of the entrance hall and towards the kitchen. He, too, was interested in what had been written on the note that had made Howard so upset. Perhaps he knew the baby, or the mother. Gupta's eyes widened and he almost dropped the teapot when he thought of the remote possibility that the baby could be his' baby. No, that couldn't be. Sri Howard was too proper for something like that to happen. Gupta shook his head and poured the tea into the cup.

"Daddy, what happened?" Arthur asked to an almost-catatonic Howard, trying to make himself heard over the crying of the poor baby, but there was no answer from his daddy, who was holding a note in his hand. Arthur looked at it and grabbed it, curiously reading it.

Gupta entered the room with the teacup in a tray he put on the console table. He saw Arthur reading the letter next to his father, who had an arm on the table and another hanging loose. He was sitting straight on the chair, looking at the door or some spot on the wall in front of him with a blank expression on his face. Arthur looked at his father, who was obviously not going to answer him any question, so he went over to Gupta.

"Um... Gupta, what does this mean?" the young pre-teen asked his servant, showing him the note. Gupta looked at it and his hand trembled. He really wanted to read the note and see for himself if what he had thought in the kitchen was true or not. Finally, he sighed and grabbed the note.

After a moment, Gupta put the note in the table "Well?" Arthur asked, impatiently "What does it mean?" the servant didn't know how to explain something like that to a twelve-year-old, so he tried to get Sri Howard to react. He gently shook his shoulders, making him snap out of his trance. Arthur saw him getting up from the chair; he was not wearing that blank expression anymore. Gupta stepped back "Daddy, does this mean that this baby is your son?" he asked, showing the note to his father. He was not mad, just confused.

Howard sighed and sat down again "Come here, I will tell you the story of what happened" he said, pinching the bridge of his nose, looking down at his lap. Gupta put his hand on the man's shoulder in a sign of comfort, because that was all he could do. Arthur came over to his daddy's and heard the story, which was edited for a young boy to understand.

Arthur asked his daddy to lift him over to the basket. Howard agreed, even though he found it strange. He got up and put him on the chair. Arthur was standing up and hovering over the basket. He touched the baby's plump cheek and smiled as he stopped crying. With his pale skin and big blue eyes, he looked like a little angel.

"Hello, little brother"


Well, I hope you liked this chapter and leave me a little review if you want to. I'll thoroughly enjoy it.