West Coast, South Island
New Zealand
7 August 2014

"Damn it Mihir, what are we doing in this god forsaken place anyway?"

"Bhai, you said yourself that you wanted to get away from everything and everyone for a while, that you needed a break."

"Yes, a break from that mad madrassan' Raman mumbled under his breath.

"What did you say Bhai?" Mihir asked innocently

"We could have had a break in India couldn't we? Or somewhere close by, like Singapore or Dubai or even the UK. Why the hell did we have to come to the ends of the earth?"

"Because the client was here and he wanted us to come here. And you must admit bhai, that we have been able to land a huge contract. This will really change things for you, put you in the big league. And to think bhai, that we won this contract against Khanna Inc, against Ashok Khanna."

Raman smiled back at the elation in his young friends voice, his annoyance temporarily forgotten. Ashok Khanna , his nemesis. His ex employer, his mentor, who 5 years ago had stolen Raman Kumar Bhalla's wife away from him, had robbed his six month old daughter of a mother and a family, had destroyed his happiness, his content existence. Yes, he, Raman Kumar Bhalla, had now entered the big league, was now finally in the position when he could face Ashok Khanna on his own terms.

The past 5 years since Shagun left him had been spent in a fuge of hard work and the sheer determination to succeed. He had separated himself from his family, had left his child, his Ruhi in the care of his parents as he and Mihir had burnt the midnight oil in making their start up advertising and public relations company a success. Slowly but steadily, they had made inroads into the market, had landed some decent contracts and his name had started to be taken amongst those who mattered. And now this - a multi year contract with a multi national, a company that all other PR firms in India had been angling to land. And none more so than Khanna Inc.

"Kya soch rahe ho Bhai? ( What are you thinking bhai?)" Mihir's voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

Raman turned and clasped Mihir's hands warmly.

"Just that I could never have done this without you Mihir. Never. If you hadn't stood by me, if you hadn't ..."

"Kya bhai, senti kyun kar rahe ho ( What bhai, why are you making me sentimental?) Mihir tried to brush aside Raman's gratitude, his eyes filling up with unbidden tears.

"Kuch bhi keh lo (Say what you will) you know that what you did for me was truly remarkable." Raman persisted.

"And what about what you did for me bhai? Was that any less important? Aap ne meri life sambhal li, mujhe ek pariwar diya. ( You gave me a life, a family) I've done nothing in comparision bhai, nothing."

Raman brushed aside his own tears. The bond between him and his younger friend was truly remarkable. For Mihir was Shaguns younger brother, his ex wife's brother.

Mihir Arora was only 13 when the 23 year old Raman Bhalla had married his 21 year old sister, Shagun, after a month long engagement. He had been present at Raman and Shagun's first meeting, when his mother had brought Shagun along to the Bhalla residence to introduce her.

Raman had hardly been the catch that his widowed mother had been angling for, for her beautiful daughter.

Of average height, plump with a developing embonpoint, his hair somewhat unkempt, face covered in fuzz, his fierce intellect and thick glasses giving him a nerdy air. Shagun had already rejected far more handsome and wealthier men, so he had not expected that his sister or his mother would ever say yes to this middle class young man just starting out in his career.

He had liked Raman though, had observed the kindness with which he interacted with his young siblings, had seen the love and care he showed to his parents. Mihir had also seen the instant infatuation that clouded Raman's eyes when he laid eyes on Shagun.

Shagun had that effect on men. Petite, slim, with glossy chestnut locks cascading down her shoulders, pouting lips, sharp cheekbones and an air of haute around her, Shagun was the stuff that young men's dreams were made of, and she knew it.

But Mihir had never imagined at that meeting that the gawky kind young man who looked at his sister with such reverence would ever win her favour.

He had been completely flabbergasted therefore when both Shagun and his mother had immediately said yes to the proposal  from Raman's family.

Of course, he had not known, had not been told about the scandal that Shagun was trying to escape from, the unsavoury affair that she had become involved in in her quest to make it as a model and actress. Mihir's greedy grasping mother had been trying to push her daughter into a career in the glamour world , but his late father's relatives had put a stop to things in time, before Shagun's reputation had been forever compromised. And so Shagun had married Raman to escape into humdrum respectability.

Except that she had never really been able to do so.

For the six years that she had been the daughter in law of the Bhalla clan, Shagun had never been able to let go off her dreams of wealth, fame and glamour.

Raman and Shagun's first born, their son Aditya, lovingly known as Adi,  had been born within the first year of their marriage. Shagun had complained bitterly throughout the pregnancy about losing her figure, had refused to breast feed the baby and had insisted that Raman buy the most expensive designer clothes and toys for the little boy.

Raman of course had adored his son - the all encompassing love which he had for his family had expanded to include his little boy, who fast became the apple of everyone's eyes.

Adi had taken after Shagun in both looks and temperament - he was a fussy child who insisted on the biggest most expensive toys, which his father, already struggling under the burden of a large family to support, had found it difficult to supply.

Shagun's demands were never ending too - expensive saris, spa treatments, holidays and the constant demand to be the cynosure of every eye - she demanded it all, and Raman could not provide.

Which is where Ashok Khanna had stepped in.

Raman had joined Khanna Inc three years after his marriage and thus were sown the seeds for the destruction of his marriage and his happiness.

Ashok had been exactly the type of man that Shagun had once dreamt of. Wealthy beyond her wildest imagination, with a huge house and swanky cars, older, sophisticated, glamorous. He was a widower with two teenaged sons in boarding schools and a desire to have a young and glamorous woman on his arm. He was also fiercely competitive and had perhaps seen in his young employee the genesis of talent that could one day threaten him.

So Ashok had killed two birds with one stone and had seduced Raman's wife.

Nobody knew quite when and where Shagun's flirtation with Ashok began.

If Raman knew, he kept quiet about it, struggling to keep his family together. Raman had finally prevailed upon Shagun to have another child - the daughter he had longed for, the little angel he had though would bind his family together. But alas it was not to be.

Ruhi was barely six months old when Shagun had marched out of Raman's home, Adi in tow. She had not wanted custody of Ruhi and had not wanted Raman to have any part in Adi's upbringing. Raman had resisted, but Ashok Khanna had used his wealth and his influence to obtain a custody order which denied Raman access to his child.

Mihir had been a spectator to the storm in his sister and his jeeju's life.

And the day that he had found out about Shagun's perfidy, Raman had become his bhai, his big brother. The jeeju who had taken his little brother in law under his wings, had given him the love and attention that he had been starved for, had educated him by taking out loans, had mentored and nurtured him - he had chosen that brother in law over his own sister and mother. Only the names for their equation had changed, but their love and devotion for each other had remained steadfast.

He had joined Raman straight from university when Raman opened his own little PR agency five years ago in Mumbai - far away from home and his family, he had become Raman's confidante and support. They had struggled, yes, but things had finally taken off.

Three months ago, Raman had finally decided to move his head office to New Delhi. Ruhi was growing up, his parents were growing older, his little brother Romi was up to all sorts of nonsense and Raman was needed at home.

Besides, Mihir knew that Raman now finally felt confident enough in himself to face Shagun again, as inevitably they would when living in the same city. Shagun was Mrs Ashok Khanna now, the trophy wife of THE Ashok Khanna.

She had moved on, but Mihir realised with a pang that his bhai had not. There had been many women along the way, but those had been brief physical relationships only, the assuaging of what the body needed - his heart still remained encased in ice, the bitter result of the betrayal that Shagun had delivered.

"Abey, senti mat ho aur chod ab mera haath (Hey, don't get mushy,  and leave my hand now) " Raman said with a laugh. "What are you looking at?"

"Im looking at you bhai" Mihir replied with a smirk. "Bade handsome lag rahe ho aaj kal aap (You look very handsome these days) "

What Mihir said was absolutely true. At the age of 35, Raman Kumar Bhalla had finally come into his own. Years of working out his frustrations and bitterness at the gym had honed and chiselled his body until the flab of his twenties had disappeared, to be replaced by a trim and taut physique. His wavy hair had been tamed into submission by a short cut, his thick glasses replaced by contacts. Age had given his face character and had moulded him into an extremely attractive man whom women turned around to look at.

"Abey chal" Raman responded. "Don't try to distract me Mihir. We have the bloody contract, now lets go home. I don't want to stay in this wilderness."

"Bhai, come on, its just for three days. Mr Mehta loves this place, that's why he wanted us to meet him here. And you have to admit that this scenery is just out of the world bhai."

"Out of the world is right" Raman muttered, looking out of the picture windows of the chalet on the banks of Lake Matheson, wit the scenic Southern Alps and Mount Rangiora behind him.

This being winter, the mountains and surroundings were covered with a thick dusting of snow .The chalet was at the end of a scenic road which led to this god forsaken place, and was totally isolated, with no other houses in sight. While it had every luxury imaginable in its four bedrooms and numerous halls, Raman was a city boy and the silence of the lonely West Coast of New Zealand did not appeal to him.

Silence meant he had to listen to his inner voices and at the moment, his inner voices only spoke to him of the Madrasan.

"Where is Mehta anyway?" he demanded of Mihir, who was frowning at a text message he had just received.

"He is flying in tomorrow on his private plane. But bhai, I just got a message from his office. I have to go back to Christchurch to iron out some issues with the contract, I'll come with him tomorrow."

"What do you mean you have to go? I'm coming with you too."

"No Bhai, you stay here. I'll just go and deal with it, its nothing crucial. You know you need a break and how much time have you had to yourself for the past 5 years anyway, huh? This is a beautiful place - go for a walk, go down to the beach, there are seals here too, you know. Or just use the Jacuzzi, watch some dvds, or catch up on your sleep bhai. The kitchen is stocked with food, and you really need some time off bhai."

"Theek hai, Theek hai ( All right, all right) " Raman grumbled. The thought of another return trip on a small propeller plane didn't appeal to him anyway, even though he was determined to hide his nervousness from Mihir.

"I'll take the car bhai and park at the airport" Mihir continued.

"Nonsense" Raman responded. "Ill drive you down. It will give me the chance to explore the area a bit in the car, rather than on foot. Kahan fasa diya yaar (Where on earth have you got me yaar)."

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It was four hours later. Raman had dropped Mihir off at Whataroa airport and had watched him being flown away in the tiny plane that gave him the heeby jeebies. He had then spent the past three hours dawdling in the little town and its surroundings before the fast approaching dusk forced him to turn towards the Lake. It was winter after all, the roads were prone to be wet and slippery, and Raman did not want to take any risks with his safety.

He noted with some concern the darkening skies - it looked as if a snow storm was on its way, and he was determined to be home, inside the warm chalet before the storm struck. Alone. With his thoughts about the madrassan.