Athavan finished his prayers and meditation before making his way to the dining room, where the family of four awaited. Archana greeted him with a warm smile and waved him over to join them for dinner. Normally, Athavan dined alone—his strict vegetarianism setting him apart from the rest of the household. Only Archana and Dhiviya followed the custom on Fridays and Tuesdays. Guna, meanwhile, was a self-proclaimed carnivore who treated vegetarianism like a personal attack.
As Athavan took his seat, Guna looked at him like he was enduring some unspeakable trauma—his face knotted in a tragic mix of constipation and betrayal. No one paid him much attention.
Dhiviya quietly took the seat beside Athavan. Her cheeks were tinged red—not from embarrassment, but from the residual awkwardness of being his. She had accepted him fully, yet the idea of being in a relationship, of belonging to someone, was still foreign. The unfamiliar emotions made her feel exposed in the most unexpected ways.
Dinner went smoothly despite Guna's silent protest. Once the plates were cleared and the table wiped, Vasanthan leaned back and cleared his throat.
"I meant to share something earlier," he began, his voice steady with a touch of restrained joy. "But after everything that happened today, I didn't get the chance."
Everyone turned to him, alert.
"I went for another angiogram test," he continued, his eyes drifting to Athavan with quiet gratitude. "And I got the results today. Maapilai, whether you accept it or not, you are a blessing to this family. The doctor said the blockage has miraculously cleared. There's no need for surgery anymore."
The silence cracked into relief and laughter. Archana broke into tears and wrapped her arms around Vasanthan in a tight embrace. Then, turning to Athavan, she raised her hands in gratitude—ready to bow.
Athavan reached out quickly and stopped her. "Atte… please. You are my elder. If you bow to me, it will be a sin on my head. Don't do that."
Archana paused and nodded, brushing her tears away. There was a quiet understanding in the room now—a current of emotions running deeper than words.
Dhiviya gently touched Athavan's hand, her eyes glistening. He gave her a slight shake of the head—no words needed. Their bond had reached that stage where silences were full sentences.
Then came Guna's voice, unfiltered and absurd as always.
"Mama, I made a decision today," he announced, puffing his chest dramatically. "Even though you're my natural enemy… I've decided that you're my grand idol."
The room blinked.
"…Natural enemy?" Athavan raised an eyebrow.
"Yes! I'm a natural born carnivore. You're a certified super-herbivore. We are destined to clash!"
Dhiviya buried her face in her palm and rolled her eyes. She seriously considered disowning her eccentric brother, who had an issue with her husband over a single vegetarian meal.
"And what, pray tell, is a grand idol?" she asked, already bracing for nonsense.
Guna recounted the autograph incident from the police station like it was a legend passed down through generations. The table fell into a quiet lull as each member was reminded again of Athavan's mystery—his reach, his poise, his unnerving calm.
Archana broke the silence with a slow, deliberate gesture—reaching across the table to take Athavan's hand. She disregarded her son's nonsense.
"Maapilai," she said softly, "Dhiviya told us you're Madam Parvathy's son. I've spoken to her many times. Though we never met, she felt like an old friend to me. She often talked about you. You were her everything."
Athavan's expression wavered for a heartbeat. He hadn't expected Archana to have known his mother beyond the name.
"Atte… I didn't know you two were close," he murmured.
Archana's eyes were tender. "Can we frame a photo of her? I'd like to place it beside our elders on the wall."
Athavan nodded. "We will, Atte. After the one-year prayers."
Vasanthan leaned back in his chair, exhaling with the weight of decades.
"Since we're being honest tonight," he said, "I want you to know more about us. I'm not originally from Walaysia. I was born in Tanjore. In my younger days, I was a successful architect—obsessed with ancient temples and how they could inspire modern structures. I worked on expeditions tracing the legacy of Raja Raja Cholan."
Athavan listened closely, sensing this wasn't just a history lesson.
"It was during one such trip to Khadah, while studying remnants linked to Rajendra Cholan, that I met Archana. We fell in love. I settled here."
There was a pause—a subtle shift in tone.
"Later, my stepbrother Raja Sekaran followed me to Walaysia. He was running from problems back in India. Back then, with manual records and some bribes, we managed to register as citizens. I started a firm, had success… but the pressure from corporate giants crushed me. Eventually, we had no one but Raja Sekaran to depend on. Archana's family already disapproved of us."
Vasanthan met Athavan's gaze. "We didn't agree to this marriage out of desperation. I saw something of my younger self in you. And if I had rejected you because you came from India, I'd be insulting the very path that brought me here. Yes, we needed help with my surgery—but I never once looked down on you."
Athavan absorbed the confession. He had already pieced together Raja Sekaran's history through his own channels, but hearing Vasanthan admit it lent clarity. The true villain of this story was no longer a theory—it was blood.
"So they were stepbrothers… That explains everything. No wonder he was so heartless," Athavan thought.
Before the moment grew too heavy, Guna popped up again.
"Sister, I have an idea," he said, eyes gleaming.
Archana immediately narrowed hers. "What idea?" Dhiviya echoed, wary.
"Since we don't need the wedding money for surgery anymore," Guna began, "why not use it to pay off Uncle's debt? That way, Dhiviya won't have to work for him!"
Archana blinked. "Good boy," she thought in surprise. A rare moment of brilliance from her son.
"What education fund?" Athavan asked calmly.
Vasanthan hesitated. "After Dhiviya finished school, Raja Sekaran sponsored her university education. She's been working at his firm to repay the debt."
A subtle change flickered across Athavan's face.
Dhiviya noticed immediately. "What is it?"
"Nothing," he said gently, though his mind was already racing.
Another layer had added itself. Another conspiracy tied to Raja Sekaran. And Athavan—who never left a chain unbroken—had just made it his decision.
"Time to conclude this farce," he thought.
The End.
Hindu Mythological / Cultural / Belief References – Chapter 18
Hanging a Deceased Loved One's Photo at Home (Post One-Year Prayers)
In Hindu tradition, a deceased person's photo is usually not displayed in the home until after the one-year death anniversary rites (Thevasam/Thithi).The one-year period is considered the time for the soul's journey to the afterlife, and family members observe specific rituals to ensure a smooth transition.Once the first-year prayers are completed, it is customary to hang their photo among the elders or ancestors, symbolizing their continued presence, protection, and blessing over the household.Archana's request to frame Madam Parvathy's picture reflects her deep respect for Athavan's mother, while Athavan's response shows his adherence to tradition and spiritual discipline.
Cultural Practice of Vegetarianism on Tuesdays & Fridays
In many Hindu households, Tuesdays and Fridays are observed as vegetarian days—a practice rooted in devotion, discipline, and planetary alignment.Tuesday is typically associated with Lord Hanuman and Lord Murugan, both symbols of strength and purity. Followers avoid meat to maintain a sattvic (pure) body and mind.Friday, linked with Goddess Lakshmi and Durga, is a day for worship, prosperity, and family harmony—thus, devotees keep their meals simple and non-violent.This practice isn't always enforced by scripture but has become a deeply ingrained cultural rhythm across many parts of South India.
The Concept of Karma in Familial Respect
Karma dictates cause and effect across lifetimes—actions taken today can ripple into future lives.In Hindu tradition, elders bowing to younger individuals is rare and often discouraged.It is believed that the karmic burden of the elder might be unknowingly passed onto the younger person, leading to unforeseen consequences.Instead, the younger person is expected to bow and touch the elder's feet, seeking blessings (Aashirvad).
Chola Dynasty & Sacred Architecture
The Chola Empire (9th–13th century CE) is synonymous with Tamil cultural and spiritual grandeur.Chola kings, especially Raja Raja Cholan and Rajendra Cholan, are revered for:Constructing monumental temples (e.g., Brihadeeswarar Temple in Thanjavur)Patronizing art, literature, and Tamil Shaivism (worship of Lord Shiva)Establishing a maritime empire that linked Tamil lands to Southeast AsiaThanjavur (Tanjore) is not just a city but a spiritual nucleus of Tamil culture.It houses some of the most divinely inspired temples, particularly dedicated to Lord Shiva.The region is believed to be blessed with high cosmic energy, making it a preferred site for yogis, scholars, and temple builders.Khadah in the story to be a fictionalized state based on Kedah,Malaysia,