Chapter 4: The Question That Couldn’t Be Escaped

Veeresh stood stiffly in the center of the room, his arms crossed like armor.

Ravi Sisodiya sat opposite him, his posture unusually fragile for a man who had never bent to anyone—not enemies, not fate, not even grief.

“I won’t do it,” Veeresh said, his voice steady but cold.
“Don’t ask me again.”

Ravi studied his son’s face—the same sharp jaw, the same unyielding eyes—but behind them, he saw the scars Veeresh never spoke about.

“You are a father of three,” Veeresh continued.
“My children are my responsibility. I will not bring uncertainty into their lives.”

Ravi nodded slowly, as if expecting this.

“That is exactly why I am asking you,” Ravi said quietly.

Veeresh scoffed.
“You want to make my life an example for people? Let them change first. Then talk to me.”

Ravi rose to his feet, his voice firm but controlled.

“Look around you, Veeresh,” he said.
“People don’t change because they are told to. They change because someone dares to walk first.”

Veeresh turned away.

“I didn’t ask to be that person,” he said sharply.
“I didn’t ask to lose my wife. I didn’t ask to become a single parent.”

Ravi’s voice cracked for the first time.

“And I didn’t ask to watch my people rot behind blind beliefs.”

Veeresh faced him again, anger flashing.

“So you’ll use me?” he demanded.
“Your son? Your grandchildren?”

Ravi stepped closer.

“I am asking you to live,” Ravi said.
“Not just survive behind duty and silence.”

Veeresh shook his head.

“You don’t understand,” he said bitterly.
“I can’t risk my children being judged. I won’t let them become weapons in a social war.”

Ravi’s hand trembled slightly as he placed it on the table.

“If I do nothing,” Ravi said slowly, “this will continue long after I’m gone.”

He looked directly at Veeresh.

“And I don’t have long.”

Veeresh froze.

“What are you saying?” he asked.

Ravi’s voice dropped to a whisper.

“I will die with this regret if I don’t try.”

The words cut deeper than any command.

Veeresh’s composure broke.

“Why are you doing this to me?” he asked, pain seeping through his anger.
“Why now?”

Ravi’s eyes softened.

“Because you are strong enough to carry what I failed to,” he said.
“And because history won’t forgive cowards—only those who dared.”

Silence swallowed the room.

Ravi straightened, regaining the authority Veeresh had grown up under.

“I need an answer,” Ravi said.
“Yes. Or no.”

Veeresh’s chest rose and fell rapidly.

He looked away, jaw clenched.

“Give me time,” he said finally.
“One day.”

Ravi nodded once.

“Tomorrow,” he said firmly, “you will answer me.”

Veeresh walked out without another word, the weight of that single question pressing heavier than any battlefield he had ever faced.

Ravi remained alone, staring at the doorway.

For the first time in his life, he wasn’t afraid of losing control.

He was afraid of losing his son.