Chapter 9: The Profile

The next evening, Poornima was sitting on the sofa correcting notebooks when Zara walked into the living room carrying her laptop.

There was a suspicious smile on her face.

Poornima immediately narrowed her eyes.

"What are you planning now?"

"Nothing."

"Zara."

"Okay, maybe something."

Poornima sighed.

The girl was impossible.

Zara sat beside her and carefully opened the laptop.

"Mumma, before you get angry, just listen."

Poornima crossed her arms.

"I'm listening."

Zara took a deep breath.

"There's someone whose profile I want to show you."

Poornima immediately stood up.

"Zara!"

"Mumma, sit down."

"No."

"Please."

After a long stare, Poornima reluctantly sat back down.

"Five minutes."

"Done."

Zara quickly opened Veeresh's profile.

A photograph appeared on the screen.

A tall man wearing a simple white kurta stood among villagers.

There was confidence in his posture.

Calmness in his eyes.

And a dignity that came from a life of responsibility.

Poornima looked at the picture.

For a brief second, something felt familiar.

But the feeling disappeared before she could grasp it.

She focused on the profile instead.

"What is his name?"

Zara smiled.

"Veeresh Thakur."

Poornima repeated it softly.

"Veeresh Thakur..."

The name stirred something distant in her memory, but she couldn't place it.

"What does he do?"

"He's the sarpanch of his village in Rajasthan."

Poornima looked surprised.

"Sarpanch?"

"Not just that," Zara said proudly.

"He spends most of his time developing his village."

Poornima listened despite herself.

Zara continued.

"He has helped build roads."

"He improved the village school."

"He worked on water projects."

"And he supports healthcare facilities too."

Poornima's teacher instincts immediately appreciated that.

"That's commendable."

Zara's smile widened.

"Exactly."

Then she scrolled further.

"He's forty-eight."

Poornima nodded silently.

"He lost his wife years ago."

The smile faded from Poornima's face.

"How?"

"Snake bite."

Poornima looked genuinely saddened.

"Oh."

"It happened at a temple."

For a moment neither spoke.

Then Zara continued.

"After that, he raised all three children himself."

Poornima's eyes softened.

As a parent, she knew exactly how difficult that must have been.

"He has three children?"

"Yes."

Zara pointed at the details.

"Ajay Thakur."

"The eldest son."

"He's married and works in Mumbai."

Poornima nodded.

"And?"

"Rhea Thakur."

"She's studying."

"And Ritesh Thakur."

"He's studying medicine."

Poornima quietly absorbed the information.

The profile suddenly felt less like a stranger's biography and more like a real person's life.

A life filled with responsibilities.

Loss.

Sacrifice.

Family.

Much like her own.

Then Zara smiled.

"And do you know who created his profile?"

Poornima gave her a look.

"His children?"

"Exactly."

Poornima couldn't help laughing softly.

"So both families have the same problem."

"What problem?"

"Children interfering in their parents' lives."

"Mumma!"

Both laughed.

The atmosphere became lighter.

Poornima looked at the photograph again.

The man looked respectable.

Grounded.

The kind of person who didn't seek attention.

There was something familiar about him.

Something she couldn't explain.

"Have you spoken to them?"

Poornima asked.

Zara hesitated.

"A little."

Poornima immediately noticed.

"A little?"

"Okay... more than a little."

"Zara!"

"Mumma, don't be angry."

Poornima shook her head helplessly.

This daughter of hers had inherited every ounce of stubbornness in the family.

After a moment she looked back at the screen.

Veeresh Thakur.

Forty-eight.

Widower.

Three children.

Dedicated to his village.

A man who had spent years taking care of everyone around him.

Without realizing it, Poornima whispered,

"He sounds like a good man."

Zara froze.

Her eyes widened.

"Did you just say that?"

Poornima immediately realized her mistake.

"I said he sounds respectable."

"Same thing."

"It is not the same thing."

"It absolutely is."

Poornima rolled her eyes.

But a small smile had appeared on her face.

Zara noticed.

And for the first time since creating the profile, hope flickered inside her heart.

Because her mother had not rejected the idea.

She had not closed the laptop.

She had not walked away.

Instead, she had asked questions.

And sometimes, questions were the first step toward a new beginning.

Meanwhile, hundreds of kilometers away in Rajgarh, Veeresh was staring at Poornima's photograph once again.

Neither of them knew it.

But destiny was slowly bringing two unfinished stories back toward each other.

To be continued...