My mother shook her head immediately.
“No.”
“Has anyone pressured you?”
Tears filled her eyes.
“Yes.”
Devyani made a note.
Then asked whether we knew the stranger who had visited with Nandkumar.
I showed her the old photograph.
She studied it.
“His name is Raghavendra Bendre.”
I stared at her.
“You know him?”
“He worked as a property lawyer years ago. There have been professional complaints about some transactions associated with his practice.”
My stomach tightened.
The same man who had helped me purchase my apartment.
The man I had trusted with my first home loan.
I began to understand how carefully Nandkumar had chosen his accomplice.
That evening, Amma finally told me about the night she had been frightened from her house.
She had heard a vehicle outside around ten-thirty.
Someone unlocked the gate.
When she stepped into the corridor, Raghavendra was standing near my father’s cupboard.
Nandkumar had given him a duplicate key.
“He was carrying a file,” Amma whispered.
“What file?”
“Your father’s bank records.”
I leaned closer.
She continued.
“I asked what he was doing. He said Nandkumar had authorised him to collect old documents.”
“And then?”
“He told me the house would soon belong to new people.”
My jaw tightened.
Amma’s voice became smaller.
“I told him I had never agreed to sell.”
She began shaking.
“He laughed.”
I gripped her hand.
“What did he say?”
“He said old women sometimes forget what they have signed.”
For several seconds, I could not speak.
Then Amma looked directly at me.
“Shashi, he said that if I continued making trouble, they could tell everyone I was no longer able to make decisions.”
My blood ran cold.
“They threatened to say you had lost your mental capacity?”
She nodded.
“I was afraid they would put me somewhere and never bring me home.”
I felt tears burning my eyes.
My mother had raised two sons.
One was too busy to notice her loneliness.
The other had apparently learned how to use her age against her.
I held her tightly.
“Amma, nobody is taking you anywhere against your will.”
She sobbed against my shoulder.
And that night, for the first time since she arrived, she slept without asking whether the doors were locked.
Three days later, the certified property records came back.
The Satara house was registered jointly in my parents’ names.
After Baba’s death, his share had not been formally settled among the legal heirs.
There were questions requiring proper legal resolution.
But one thing was clear.
Nandkumar could not simply sell the entire property as though he were its sole owner.
Devyani also discovered that a loan proposal had been prepared using the house as proposed security.
The company involved belonged to Nandkumar and Raghavendra.
And the proposed sale proceeds were intended to repay business debts.
I stared at the figures.
“Nearly sixty lakh?”
Devyani nodded.
“The documents suggest significant outstanding liabilities.”
I closed my eyes.
The house was not being sold because Amma could no longer maintain it.
It was being sold because my brother had run out of other people’s money.
That afternoon, I called Nandkumar.
“Bhaiya!” he answered cheerfully.
I had not heard that cheerful voice in weeks.
I asked one question.
“Did you ask Raghavendra to arrange the sale of Amma’s house?”
Silence.
Then he said, “It’s complicated.”
I felt anger rise.
“Did Amma agree?”
He sighed.
“Bhaiya, she doesn’t understand financial matters anymore.”
“She understands that she doesn’t want to sell.”
He became irritated.
“You’re interfering in something that was already settled.”
I looked toward my mother.
She was sitting beside Pradyumna, listening to him describe his school project.
“No, Nandkumar. I’m stopping something that was never honestly agreed.”
His voice hardened.
“Amma always favoured you.”
I froze.
“What?”
“You got everything. The education. The respectable job. The apartment in Pune.”
I stared at the wall.
Then he said something I had never expected.
“And I was the child they took in because nobody else wanted me.”
My heart broke.
“Nandu,” I whispered.
He went silent.
I continued.
“You were never unwanted.”
He laughed bitterly.
“You don’t know anything.”
“I know about Gaurika Atya.”
There was a long silence.
Then I heard him breathing heavily.
“Amma told you?”
“Baba’s letter told me.”
He began crying.
“I knew this would happen.”
“What?”
“You’d finally discover I wasn’t your real brother.”
I closed my eyes.
“Nandkumar, you are my brother.”
He said nothing.
“But being my brother doesn’t give you the right to frighten Amma or use my money without asking.”
His voice broke.
“I was going to repay everything.”
“Then why did you hide the records?”
He began sobbing.
“I didn’t know how to tell you.”
I took a breath.
“Come to Pune. Speak to us face-to-face. Bring the documents.”
He hesitated.
