I was lounging on the couch, basking in the stillness of the evening, when my phone rang. I answered it half-heartedly, not expecting anybody in particular. But when I saw the name on the screen, I sat up.
Vikram? I thought, surprised. He never calls me at this time.
I asked myself, and so I answered. "Hello?"
"Mom, I feel that I have gotten the ideal dress that I am actually looking forward to wearing tomorrow for our lunch meeting," Vikram said with a flash of enthusiasm in his voice. "And I actually feel that you will also approve of it!"
"Is that true? That sounds absolutely wonderful!" I said with a smile on my face. "Would you be able to show it to me, please?"
"Sure, Mom. I will video call you for sure." There was a pause for a fraction of a second before he added, "And. is Dad included too? I would like to show him too."
"Really, he does, Vicky. I will go on and call him right now." I shifted my position in the direction of the kitchen and slightly increased the level of my voice so that I would be heard. "Honey! Vicky can't wait to have us view the clothes that he will be wearing tomorrow!"
"Okay, I'm coming, hun," he shouted back.
"Yeah, he's on his way," I assured Vikram.
A couple of seconds thereafter, I saw my husband approaching and sitting to my immediate right on the couch. He took his time to move a cushion that was leaning against the back of his chair while settling into his seat. At the very same time, a video call request abruptly appeared on my phone screen, and I was disrupted by it. I answered the incoming call immediately.
The screen came on, but there was just blackness for my eyes.
"Vicky?" I exclaimed, furrowing. "We can't see anything. It's too dark."
A second or two later, he appeared, but he was nothing more than a shadowy form.
"Ah, Vicky, would you turn on the lights, please? It is extremely difficult for us to see the outfit clearly!"
"Okay, Mom," he replied.
He looked to the left and switched on the lights.
My breath was caught in my throat. My eyes welled up at once.
In front of me, in the camera pan, was Vikram, his commanding physique commanding attention. yet for a fleeting moment, I might as well have been staring at a different individual. The black suit he wore, how well it fit his body, the particular expression on his face—it was all somehow too familiar. Too familiar, so much so that it made me shiver.
My husband ought to have felt it too, for he gently placed his hand over mine.
"Honey," I whispered, trembling voice, "are you thinking what I'm thinking?"
"Yes," he replied in a whisper. "He looks just like him."
Behind Vikram, against the wall, was a photograph that was full of meaning. It was one I hadn't looked at in years, a reminder of the past. It was the photograph of his older brother, well-framed and still in precisely the same place where we had last left it—hanging in the room we had forcefully told Vikram on no account to enter until he was eighteen years of age.
"Vikram," I said slowly, making a conscious effort to modulate the stability of my voice as I spoke, "is this. the same room that we specifically went out of our way to inform you that you were never, ever, under any circumstances, to go into until after your eighteenth birthday?"
"Yes, I know, Mom," he replied, a little embarrassed and shy as he spoke. "But I want to add that tomorrow is the celebration day of my eighteenth birthday, and it was on this basis that I came to the conclusion. that it was okay to do this."
I emitted a soft sigh, a sound that was a manifestation of my thoughts, and shared a significant look with my husband. As a response to my silent emotions, he gave a slight nod towards me in acknowledgement.
"Very well," I said. "I think we'll just have to have this one released for the time being without taking it any further."
Vikram smiled, obviously relieved.
And then he tilted his head to one side a little, a creased brow of worry on his face. "But, Mom. can I ask why it was that you were crying?"
I stopped for a moment, taking time to softly wipe away a tear that had rolled off my cheek.
"I was sobbing," I told him softly, "because you look so much like your older brother in that suit."