Remarriage

Chapter ~ 26

Viraj clung to Brinda like a tiny limpet, his small hands gripping her saree, unwilling to be parted from her even for a moment in his illness.

"Samrat ji," Brinda called softly, her voice laced with a mother's weary patience.

Samrat turned, his brow furrowed with concern. "What happened, Brinda?"

Holding Viraj close, his small body warm against hers, Brinda stood up. "Could you look after him for a bit? I desperately need to bathe. He started crying the moment I laid him down, and he only quiets when he's in my lap or arms."

Samrat nodded. He carefully took the fragile weight from Brinda. "You go and take your time," he said gently, a silent acknowledgment of her exhaustion.

She nodded gratefully, clutching her clothes, and hurried towards the bathroom, the sound of the running water a promise of a brief respite.

"Viraj, what's wrong with my little Thakur Sahab, hmm?" Samrat murmured, his voice a playful attempt to distract the fussy baby.

"Our strong Thakur is crying because of a mere fever? I can't accept this!" Viraj, nestled against his chest, looked up at Samrat, his small face crumpled in discomfort, as Samrat continued his one-sided conversation.

____

After a quiet breakfast, Brinda instinctively offered Viraj to his grandfather, as was their usual morning ritual. But the moment the baby left her arms, his cries erupted, a heart-wrenching sound that tugged at Brinda's own fragile emotions.

She took him back, cradling him close as she sat in the hall, her own weariness momentarily forgotten in her son's distress.

"It's alright, Bahu," Grandmother said gently, her eyes filled with understanding. "When children fall ill, they need their mother the most. You look after him. Don't worry about the household work."

Brinda glanced at Samrat, who offered her a small, reassuring nod.

"Ji, Dadiji," she replied softly, "he's become so cranky."

Grandmother nodded knowingly. "He's just three months old, Bahu. Even adults become irritable when they're unwell."

Brinda nodded in agreement, her gaze drifting towards Adhiraj's large photo frame. She looked at it with a familiar fondness, a pang of longing in her heart, before turning her attention back to her son.

"I need to give him his medicine," Brinda informed, rising carefully with Viraj in her arms. Grandmother nodded, and she retreated to their room.

As she entered, she found Samrat buttoning up a fresh shirt. He looked up, concern etched on his face. "What happened? Is everything alright?"

Brinda nodded. "I need to give him his medicine. But why did you change your shirt?"

Samrat picked up his phone. "The button on the other one broke."

"Help me give him the medicine?" Brinda asked, her voice soft. Samrat nodded, retrieving the medicine bottle. He shook it gently and carefully administered the liquid drops to Viraj with a dropper, his large hands surprisingly deft.

Again, the bitter taste triggered Viraj's cries, each sob a tiny arrow piercing Brinda's heart. Samrat quickly offered the baby some water to wash away the unpleasant taste. He sat down beside Brinda, who was gently rocking Viraj, her own eyes mirroring her son's distress.

"Brinda," Samrat said softly. She looked up at him, her eyes still glistening with unshed tears. "You cry a lot. He's fine now, the fever is gone. He'll be completely well soon."

Brinda looked down, a mother's worry still clinging to her. "But still… I'm his mother. I feel so bad for my child."

Samrat nodded, his voice gentle. "I know, Brinda. I'm not judging you, okay? Now stop crying.....I think... I should make a video of you. Later, when Viraj grows up, I'll show him how his mother used to cry over a little fever."