Chapter 6 - Journey to the Roots
The helicopter ride over the snow-capped peaks of the Himalayas was an experience Arav would never forget. He pressed his face against the glass, pointing at the winding silver threads of rivers below and the tiny, colorful houses clinging to the green hillsides.
"Look, Papa! We're flying with the eagles!" Arav shouted over the hum of the rotors.
Raj smiled, his arm wrapped around his son’s shoulders. For the past two years, he had lived in constant fear of losing Arav. Now, seeing the healthy flush on his son's cheeks and the endless energy in his voice, Raj felt a profound sense of gratitude. He looked across the cabin at Mira.
She was staring out the window, her eyes shining with tears of joy as the familiar peaks of her homeland came into view. She looked alive, her skin glowing, her braid swaying with the movement of the helicopter. She was no longer the quiet maid of the Mumbai mansion; she was a daughter of the mountains, returning home.
They landed in a flat valley a few miles from Joshimath, where two sturdy SUVs were waiting for them. The air was crisp, clean, and filled with the scent of wild pine and blooming rhododendrons.
As they drove along the winding mountain roads, the majestic beauty of the landscape filled Raj with a deep sense of humility. The towering peaks seemed to laugh at his billions of dollars, standing silent and eternal, unchanged by the petty struggles of men.
Finally, they reached Mira’s village—a small cluster of stone-and-wood houses nestled on a gentle slope, surrounded by terraced fields of golden barley.
As the cars stopped, a group of villagers gathered, looking curiously at the luxury vehicles. A young boy of about fourteen broke through the crowd, his face lighting up as he saw Mira step out of the lead SUV.
"Mira Didi!" he cried, running toward her.
"Rahul!" Mira caught him in a tight hug, tears flowing freely down her cheeks.
Raj and Arav stepped out of the car. The villagers fell silent, recognizing Raj's commanding presence and the expensive clothing of the visitors. But Raj did not act like the billionaire tycoon he was. He stepped forward, placed his hands together in a respectful Namaste, and bowed his head to the village elders.
"Welcome, Sahib," an elderly man with a long white beard and deeply lined face said, stepping forward. He was the village head, Ram Singh. "Mira has written to us about your kindness. We are honored to have you in our humble village."
"No, elders," Raj said, his voice filled with sincere emotion. "The honor is mine. Your daughter, Mira, saved my son’s life. I am here not as a guest, but as a father who owes his entire world to this village."
The villagers smiled, their initial suspicion melting away at Raj's humble words.
Mira led them to her family home—a neat, two-story house made of local stone and cedar wood. Inside, the floors were swept clean, and the air smelled of woodsmoke and dried herbs. It was simple, but it felt warmer and more welcoming than any room in Raj's forty-room mansion.
That evening, they sat on hand-woven rugs around a small fire. Mira and Rahul prepared a simple meal of local lentils, wild greens, and fresh flatbread cooked over the wood fire. Arav ate with an appetite Raj had never seen before, laughing and talking with Rahul about the mountain birds.
After dinner, Raj sat outside on the wooden porch, looking up at the night sky. Away from the smog and lights of Mumbai, the heavens were an absolute sea of stars—a brilliant, silver river of light stretching from horizon to horizon.
Mira walked out, holding two brass cups of hot tea brewed with mountain mint. "The stars are very bright tonight, Sahib," she said, offering him a cup.
"Thank you, Mira," Raj said, taking the cup. He looked up at the sky. "Now I understand what Arav meant when he said he wanted to look at the stars. I have never seen anything so beautiful."
"My grandmother used to say that the stars are the campfires of the ancestors," Mira said softly, sitting on the wooden step beside him. "They watch over us to make sure we don't forget where we came from."
Raj looked at her, the soft glow of the starlight illuminating her gentle features. "I had forgotten, Mira. I had forgotten everything except making money and fighting rivals. I thought that was how I could protect my family. But I was wrong."
"You did what you had to do as a father, Sahib," Mira said gently. "There is no shame in that."
"Please," Raj said, his voice low and sincere. "Call me Raj. At least while we are here."
May you like
Mira looked at him, her heart skipping a beat. She saw the vulnerability in his eyes, the man behind the billionaire. "Okay... Raj."
The sound of his name on her lips felt more rewarding to Raj than any corporate victory he had ever achieved. But their peace was about to be shattered. Deep in the shadows of the pine forest surrounding the village, a man was watching the house through binoculars, speaking into a satellite phone.
