Page 102 of No Boss
The Anand line, he concurred, ran through these walls. From one hand to another. From wall to wall. From father to son.
Now, it had reached him.
He did not know how long he remained there until the silence around him deepened, the kind that forms when others step back from what does not belong to them.
“We should let you get back to your work. Thank you, Govind Dada.” Meera’s voice came softer now.
Abhinav set the trowel aside carefully and folded his hands.
Govind returned the gesture. Respect sat clear in his eyes for the Thakur of Anand Mahal.
Abhinav followed Meera out. The corridor felt different. Or perhaps he did.
Morning light had climbed higher, catching fine dust in the air, settling along his sleeves and hands. Lime had dried across his knuckles, thin cracks forming where his skin moved.
He left it as it was.
They walked without speaking.
His thoughts remained behind, on a wooden stool near a window, on a boy who had watched long enough to learn without being told.
“How often do they come?” he asked finally.
“Three months in a year,” Meera answered, stepping around a shallow puddle. “For major restoration. Smaller work when needed. Some stay close by. Others travel.”
He nodded.
“The contract with Govind Dada’s family is one hundred and twenty years old,” she added. “Before that, it passed through trust.” Her fingers brushed the wall as they walked. “It stays within the family. The knowledge. The craft.”
He glanced at her hand against the stone, then ahead.
They turned into the family courtyard.
Lunch waited under the neem tree. Sarita sat at the table with a book open. Naina rested in her chair, phone in hand, one leg folded under her.
Meera slowed.
“This is where we stop for today.” She turned to him.
He stopped. “Done for the day?”
“For today,” she nodded. “Tomorrow starts early.”
He watched her, waiting.
“Three-thirty.”
His brows rose. “Morning?”
“In the morning.” A small pause. “The kitchen.”
He stared at her.
“Will you come?” she asked, eyes wide, hopeful.
A breath left him, close to a laugh. He nodded. He would be an idiot to say no.
Her eyes lit up. She dipped her head. “Three-thirty, Hukum.”
