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chickensarentcheap · 4 years ago

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Sanctuary - Chapter 37

Warnings: angry Tyler. Is that a warning? lol

Tagging: @alievans007, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @thorsbathroomchicken, @innerpaperexpertcloud @valkyrie-of-the-light

It’s been two days since the incident at McMann’s house, and the worst of the physical aftereffects have begun to dissipate. The pain that lingers in the shoulder has lessened; nothing more than a dull, throbbing ache that settles right in the joint and often travels straight down to his fingers. The black eye is at its peak, a vivid shade of purple and some blue that spreads to the top of the cheek and over to the side of his nose. The scalp is still tender to the touch, but the headache is gone, and he’s no longer plagued by periods of dizziness and nausea; the concussion…or at least the worst of it…now behind him.

They’ve been in hiding for forty eight hours. No contact with the outside world aside from phone calls home and the video chats with Nik on the FBI’s secure satellite link. Even Yaz has stayed his distance; working closely with Mark on finding any information regarding Heather McMann’s -and the children’s- whereabouts. It’s been nothing but dead ends. McMann hasn’t attempted any communication; there’s been radio silence from his end of things. Yet Tyler knows he’s out there. That either he…or someone he’s recruited or hired…is just lying in wait for the chance to get revenge. In McMann’s eyes he’s crossed a line; going to the house without permission, discovering the things he had, leaving four men dead in the backyard. He’s out for blood now. The need for finding his children now outweighed by the need for vengeance. He’s in on it. Working side by side with his wife; a sick and twisted game that only leads to more questions and dead in. Tyler just can’t prove it. He knows there’s a connection, but he can’t seem to find what he needs to join all the loose ends. While Heather’s abduction was very much stage, the nightmare the kids are being put through is very real. What is the purpose? On faking one but following through with the others? With weaving a web so tight and so intricate? And what kind of sick person uses their children like that in the first place?

Proof. He needs proof.

And answers. So many answers.

He leaves Esme sleeping and journeys out onto the balcony; a cup of coffee from room service in one hand, SAT phone in the other, and he takes a seat on one of the plastic chairs and places his feet up on the metal railing. He’s tired; mentally and physically. It’s six in the morning; eleven at night -previous day- in Colorado, and he briefly considers calling the house phone before dialing Ovi’s cell instead. He doesn’t want to wake the kids, or startle his mother in law, or even let Nik know that he’s reaching out. He’s tired of things being sugar coated; of being told that everything is fine when his instincts are telling him that they’re far from it. Maybe the kids aren’t feeling it; they’re little and still so pure and innocent and the only thing that matters to them is that mommy and daddy call at least once a day. And eventually come home. But he knows there is more going on than what Nik is telling him. Things have been so fucked up from the get go and there’s no way some of that hasn’t reached Colorado by now.

“Did I wake you up?” he asks, after Ovi’s given the standard ‘what’s up?’ and a loud yawn.

“I was starting to doze. The kids made me sleep in the backyard in the tent. Again. This is the fifth night in a row. My back hurts.”

“You guys aren’t out there by yourselves, are you? There’s guys keeping in eye on things, yeah?”

“There’s a few,” Ovi confirms. “They switch out every couple of hours.”

“Have the kids said anything? About why these guys are there?”

“They’ve asked a couple times. Why there’s people walking around and checking things out. I just told them that it makes you and Esme feel better that they’re here. That you guys hate being that far from home and you worry about them and having people here makes you worry less. That makes them happy. They like that answer.”

“And they’re doing okay?”

He misses them…misses his life…terribly. So much it’s physically painful at times. And for a brief second he wishes he could back in time; to when they still been in that little apartment in Australia, before Ovi had started receiving all those threats and photos. So he could make a different decision. Say no when it became apparent that his help was needed and there was no one else would could do the job. Things would be so different. They never would have gotten caught up in that kind of bullshit; they’d never would have ended up in Mumbai and then back in Dhaka. Where the nightmare had started in the first place.

The other side of him holds onto the old adage that ‘things happen for a reason’. If he’d never gone to help Ovi the second time around, the chances were slim to none that he would have become part of their family. He’d never would have gone to see Mahajan Senior and pushed the issue of guardianship and Ovi would have been stuck in Mumbai and the vicious circle of him always needing Tyler’s help would have continued. Gaspar had been right about that; there was no way to keep him safe with his old man in jail. And the kid still would have never known what it was like to be loved. To have people that legitimately care about him and his well being. They hadn’t just taken Ovi in to protect him, but to give him somewhat of a normal life. The chance to respected and seen as a person, not an object. To be loved.

“They get a little sad every now and then,” Ovi says. “They miss you guys. TJ is taking it the worse. He gets really upset. Really angry.”

“Yeah, unfortunately he’s got a mix of his mother’s sensitive side and my temper. So he tends to go off from time to time. No more fights? No one has beaten the shit of anyone lately?”

“No lately. But Millie is a lot tougher than she looks. She totally kicked his ass.”

“She’s small, but she’s mighty. Like her mother. She’s a force to be reckoned with that one. But other than that, they’re okay? They haven’t driven anyone to drink excessively yet? Grandma hasn’t found a bridge to jump off of? That that would be a horrible thing, but…”

“No,” Ovi laughs. “Everything is good. No one has gone crazy. Yet. Chloe is really good with them. She has a lot more patience than I do. And they really love her. They like having her around.”

“Yeah?” Tyler grins. “I bet you like having her around too.”

“Maybe,” Ovi sheepishly admits. “Just a little.”

“That’s how it all starts. You get used to having them around, you realize how much you like it when they are, you don’t ever want them to leave, and the next thing you know, you’re married and you’ve got four kids and one on the way and…”

“Wait? What? I think there’s something wrong with the connection. I thought I just heard you say one on the way? Is that what you said?”

“Yeah,” he grins. “We just found out. Two days ago. You’re the only back home who knows. So if you’d just keep it on the down low for now…”

“This is amazing!” Ovi gushes. “Another baby! You guys make such cute babies. You should have more. Like two or three more and…”

“This is the last one. We’re done. We’re closing up shop. Five will be more than enough. Besides, in a few years you’re probably going to be out on your own and you’re going to find someone to have your own babies with. You won’t need to rely on us to get your baby fix.”

“I’m not going anywhere for a long time,” Ovi declares.

It’s the immaturity creeping in; the trauma that been inflicted on him making him seem so much younger than his years. As if he’s the old Ovi again; that terrified and scarred yet trusting teenager that got him to open up about his own life and the mistakes of his past. It seems like a lifetime ago; when he’d had nothing to lose and death seemed like a welcome escape. Now death is what terrifies him the most. Back then he would have welcomed it, now he’s desperately trying to escape it.

“I just want to stay with you guys,” Ovi says. “Forever.”

“Well, we don’t mind if you do. We kind of like having you around. But one day you are going to want to move on with your life. We’re not always going to be the most important people in your world.”

“Yes,” Ovi says. “You are. I don’t want to leave. I want to stay. With you and Esme. And the kids. I’d miss you all too much. You guys are my family. You’re not my real parents, but you’re still my parents. You’re still my mom and dad. Even if we don’t have the same blood and our skin isn’t the same.”

Emotion chokes at him; stunned by the teenager’s heartfelt honesty. He’d never really considered himself to be the kid’s dad. A big brother, maybe. A father figure for sure. But he’d never used the ‘d word’ and Ovi had never dropped it until now. But he knows he loves that kid; like one his own. And he’d lay his life down on the line for him the same way he would for the kids he’d actually had a hand in making.

“I’m happy for you guys,” Ovi says. “That you’re having another baby. That I get another brother or sister.”

“Well if Esme has her way, it’ll be another girl,” Tyler smiles at the mere thought of it. Having another little girl. One that looks like her mother; dark hair and huge dark eyes and a smile that can bring even the strongest of men to their knees. “ I think she’s tired of there being so many guys in the house. And Millie definitely will not want another brother. She wanted to trade Declan in for a puppy when he was born.”

Ovi laughs at that.

“Look, mate,” Tyler begins, and take a swig of coffee. “I need you to be straight with me. When I ask you what I’m about to ask. Because I don’t think I’m getting the honest truth from Nik. And I need you to tell me the truth. Even if you think it’s going to piss me off. Can you do that?”

“I think so.”

“I don’t need you to think so. I need you to know so. Because this is fucking hard; being so far from my kids. And I don’t trust a lot of people and I’m over here trying to put all I have into guys I’ve never even met. I’m trusting complete strangers to take care of my kids and it’s fucking killing me. There isn’t a second of the day that goes by where I don’t want to say ‘fuck it’ and get on the next plane and come home. So I need you to tell me the truth.”

“Okay,” the kid sounds nervous, but steadfast. “I’ll tell you the truth.”

“How are things really? Because shit is hitting the fan over here and I’ve pissed some people off that won’t think twice about bringing trouble there. They won’t hesitate getting revenge on me by going after my family. Because they know that’s what would hurt the most. What would destroy me. They won’t come after me because they know it would take a lot to kill me. So they’ll resort to doing anything they can to break me.”

It still haunts him. What he’d seen when he’d found Erin Ferguson in that room. The things that had been done to her. The way her naked body had been mutilated and put on display. And he knows…with one hundred conviction…that if they’d been caught in McMann’s ‘bunker’, the things they would have done to Esme would have been even worse. And they would have done whatever it took to make sure he was fully conscious and able to watch what they were doing.

There mere thought makes him feel sick to his stomach. Tears burn his eyes. And he squeezes them shut as tight as he can in hopes of ridding himself of not only what he saw, but what he imagines he could have seen.

“How are things there?” he asks. “How are they really? Don’t bullshit me, mate. I need the truth.”

“The kids are doing really good. They’re behaving themselves and Chloe and I are making sure we keep them busy and happy.”

“I don’t mean that. I trust you. You’re one of the few people I do trust. I know the kids are in good hands. What I need to know is if there’s been anything weird going on. If there’s been any kind of trouble. Any suspicious shit going on.”

Ovi sighs. “Nik told me not to talk to you about this…”

“Fuck Nik. I stopped listening to Nik a long time ago. She thinks she knows what’s best for me and in reality she knows shit. What’s going, kid? Tell me what’s going on.”

“There’s been some things,” he reluctantly admits. “Nothing too bad, but…”

“What kind of things?”

He knew it was coming. That it was bound to happen. As soon as he’d nearly crushed McMann’s throat and he became enemy number one, the clock was ticking. He went from being the only one who could save the McMann kids to being the first on the other man’s shit list. For that alone he wanted to tell McMann to go fuck himself and just get on the next plane home. But he can’t. His conscience won’t let him. Those kids are still out there. Still being tortured in some kind of sick and twisted game being conducted by their own mother. If he doesn’t get them out, no one will. And that guilt and blame will follow him forever.

“People calling the house and hanging up. There were some pictures. Someone put them in the mailbox.”

His stomach lurches. “What kind of pictures?”

“Pictures of the kids. Out on the street. Some of them at school. Pictures of Esme and Millie together downtown. Pictures of all of you together.”

In the grand scheme of things, pictures are relatively harmless. It’s the threat that usually accompanies them or follows them that’s the issue.

“What else? I can tell there’s something else, Ovi. What is it?” He doesn’t use the kid’s name that often, as strange as it sounds. The last time he’d used in while addressing him personally was when the kid had still been in the midst of all his mental health issues and causing all kinds of shit at home and they’d had an epic blow out about it.

“They showed up at the house.”

His chest tightens. As do his hands. The left one immediately forming a fist so tight his knuckles crack and start to turn to white. The fingers of the right pressing into the sides of the phone with enough force to crack the plastic protective covering. There’s no anxiety. No fear. Just rage. Pure, unadulterated rage.

“They? Who is ‘they’?” he asks, and he can hear it in his own voice; his temper threatening to take hold. In the same way it had when he’d nearly broken McMann’s neck with his bare hands.

“I don’t know. Three guys. They came here looking for you.”

“Did you see them? What did they look like?”

“I didn’t see them. I only heard them. As soon as Nik saw them pull into the driveway, she made me take the kids into the basement. Where you’ve always told me to take them in case there’s trouble. But I could hear them. Talking to her. They had accents. They weren’t American.”

“Were they Irish? Were they Irish accents?”

“No. I would have recognized that for sure. They almost sounded just like you. But different. Words sound a certain way when you say them. You have slang words for different things. Their slang words weren’t the same. But their accents sounded a lot like yours does, but they were still different at the same time.”

“New Zealand? Were they from New Zealand?”

“I don’t know what New Zealand people sound like,” he admits.

“They sound like me. But a little different like you said. Shit…fuck…” he drags a hand through his hair. His brain can’t quite possibly handle trying to put this all together on its own. The meds, the damage that had been when he’d lost so much blood and been oxygen deprived, the depression, the anxiety…all working together to completely fuck with him.

It doesn’t make any sense. He all but expected McMann to send someone. He’d been waiting for it, actually. But someone connected to the Buckman family? And why the fuck would they show up in Colorado in the first place? They have to know he is already Ireland, or else he wouldn’t have been made the second he got on the damn plane.

It’s a ploy. It has to be. Either a scare tactic to get him off the trail in Ireland and have him running back home to protect his own family, or to actually make sure he isn’t in Colorado, meaning that his family is alone and vulnerable.

“Do me a favour,” he says to Ovi. “Go on the internet and look up New Zealand accent. Go and google it. Do it right now. Don’t hang up. Go and look it up and listen to it and then tell me if it’s the same.”

“Okay…”

He sits with an elbow on his knee and his palm pressed to his forehead; the adrenaline has started to stir. And he can’t stop himself from vigorously shaking his thigh from side to side or repeatedly tapping his toes against the concrete below; top teeth digging into his bottom lip.

“It’s the same,” Ovi confirms when he finally returns. “That’s the accent I heard.”

“You’re one hundred percent sure? I need you to be one hundred percent sure, mate.”

“I’m sure. No doubt about it. I know that’s the accent I heard.”

“Okay, I want you to listen to me very carefully. I want you to do everything I say, alright?”

“Okay.”

“Go into the garage. You know where the loft area is? Go up there. There’s a trunk with a lock on it. I’ll text message you the combination. There’s money in there. A lot of money. And there’s weapons. Lots of them. I need you to take both, understand me?”

“I understand.”

“I want you to take the kids and Chloe and get them the fuck out of there. Even the dog. Take him too. He’s what will keep the kids from losing their shit. I want you to get away from the house. I don’t care if it’s just to Denver or if you have to go to an entirely different state. Don’t tell anyone where you’re going and do not call anyone except me when you get there. Tell Esme’s mom to go back home. Tell her I said not to talk to anyone. That if someone comes to her place looking for information, she doesn’t give them any. Are you getting all of this?”

“I am,” he confirms.

“I want you get a different cell phone. To call me from. Even get Chloe a new one. Use some of the money I told you about. You don’t use any phone but that one to get in contact with me, you hear me?”

“I do.”

“Do not go back to the house unless I tell you too. You find a place for all of you to stay and you keep your ass there. The only time I want you leaving is if you think people have found you.”

“What about Nik? What do I tell her?”

“I’ll worry about Nik. I’ll deal with her. She won’t want me to, but I will. I’ve to go. I’ve got shit I need to piece together somehow. As soon as I hang up, you start getting everything going. Do not contact me until you’ve got a new phone. Get rid of the other one. Burn it, stomp on it, I don’t give a shit. Just get rid of it.”

“Okay…” he sounds nervous. Like that fourteen year old kid back in Dhaka. “Tyler?”

“Yeah?”

“Things are going to be okay, right?”

“I hope so, mate,” he says. “I really hope so.”

****

He leaves a hastily written note on her pillow; right next to her head, so she won’t miss it. She’ll panic if she wakes up and not only finds his side of the bed empty, but him missing from the room entirely. So he let’s her know that he’s gone to see Yaz, and that if he’s not back in an hour after she discovers the note, THAT’s when she needs to start freaking out. And he tells her not to open the door. To anyone. Not room service, not housekeeping , not even Mark if he shows up.

He takes the stairs as opposed to the elevator. Less chance of running into someone; the confined space of the elevator only putting him at a serious disadvantage if someone did climb aboard with the sole intent of causing trouble. He takes the stairs two at a time; the rage has fully taken over, making him numb to any physical pain that he knows he should be feeling. He’s pissed off; at McMann for holding back information, at Heather McMann for using her kids and allowing people to abuse and torture them, at Nik for keeping the truth from him, at whoever has the goddamn nerve to show up at his house. At himself for even getting mixed up in such a godawful shitty mess.

He reaches Yaz’ room and pounds his fist against the door. To hell with your average, normal knocking. He is way beyond being being polite; all decorum and niceties completely out the window. And when he gets no answers, he uses the toe of one of his boots to get the job done; repeatedly slamming it against the wood until it violently shakes and makes an audible crack.

“What the fuck, man?” Yaz speaks from a slit in the door; not opening it farther than the chain will allow.

“Open the door.”

“No. This isn’t a good time. Can’t you read? The sign says ‘do not disturb’.”

“Open the fucking door, now!” Tyler bellows, and Yaz gives a started blink and then hurriedly tends to the chain.

“What the hell is wrong? What…?”

He pushes his way into the room. “Did you know? About the people that came to my house? Did you know about that?” And it’s then that he sees the half naked woman in Yaz’ bed, frazzled and embarrassed, trying her best to throw on some clothes. The waitress from the coffee shop they’d visited their second day in town.

“Do you mind?” she shrieks.

“Yeah, I fucking do! Get your shit…” Tyler snags the remaining apparel off the floor and tosses it at her. “…and get the fuck out!”

“Don’t argue,” Yaz address her. “Not when he’s like this. Not when he’s capable of tearing us both to pieces.”

He paces the room as Yaz helps his guest get herself sorted and out the door; raking his hands through his hair, wincing when his fingers come in too close of contact with the stitches in his scalp. The rage is intense; almost unbearable. Sweat beading on his brow, forming at his temples, his breathing irregular. He knows he needs to get it together; Yaz isn’t the enemy. And at this point he’s liable to beat the ever loving shit out of him if he even glances at him the wrong way.

“What the fuck man?” Yaz snarls. “Do you see me interrupting you when you’re about get laid?”

“I don’t give a shit where you were about to stick your dick, mate. I don’t give a fuck if it was the waitress from the coffee shop or you hired a hooker. Did you know? About what’s been going on at my house? About the pictures? About the phone calls? About people showing up there?”

��Tyler…just calm down, man…just…”

“Did you fucking know?!” he snarls, and Yaz holds his hands up in a plea for mercy when he takes a step towards him.

“Okay…okay…you need to just take a breath and calm down…”

“That’s my family! That’s my fucking kids! There’s people sending shit to my house! They’re showing up there. Where my fucking kids live! Don’t you tell me to take a breath and calm down. Did you know about it? Did your sister tell you?”

“Yes…” he reluctantly admits. “…she did. But…”

“But? How can there be a but?! You knew that people were threatening my family and you didn’t tell me?!”

“Nik asked me not to. She knows what you get like. We both know what you get like. I mean, you’re here, flipping your shit on me. I’m not the enemy here, Tyler. I’m not the one that is threatening your family. But you’re acting like I’m personally involved in it somehow.”

“You knew and you didn’t tell me. That makes you just as bad. So don’t give me that shit. Don’t play the victim.”

“I knew if I told you, this would happen. That you’d completely lose it.”

“Do you blame me? Do you really fucking blame me? Those are my kids, Yaz. My family. The only reason I’m still alive and I didn’t put a bullet in my head years ago. They’re the only reason I keep doing this shit; trying to solve everyone else’s goddamn problems while my own life feels like it’s falling apart! It never should have come to this. I should never have gotten mixed back up in this shit. When your sister asked four years ago, I should have told her to go fuck herself and to find someone else.”

“But you didn’t. And you know why?”

“I’m fucking brain damaged, that’s why. Maybe the doctors shouldn’t have worked so hard when I coded in the OR. Maybe it would have been better if they’d just let me die. Because I wouldn’t be here right now putting up with all this bullshit! I wouldn’t be thousands of miles away from kids while some asshole is sending people to prey on them.”

“If you’d died, those kids wouldn’t even exist,” Yaz reminds him. “Your life, the one you know, wouldn’t exist.”

“Yeah, and maybe that’s the way it should have been. None of this existing. Because my kids shouldn’t have to put up with this. My wife shouldn’t have to put up with this; me taking off to fight other peoples fucking battles and not even taking the time to fix ours.”

“I thought things were good. I thought…”

“I’m not talking about now. I’m talking about when she kicked my ass out because she was tired of me breaking her goddamn heart all the time. And yet she still took me back. Even though I didn’t deserve another chance. I promised her it would be different. That I’d be different. And now look. Now look at the fucking mess I’m in. That I’ve brought her into. She deserves better than this, Yaz. She’s always deserved better than this. Better than me.”

“You’re each other’s ride or die,” he says. “Always have been. Since the beginning.”

“Well I’d rather my wife not die, if it’s all the same to you. Why didn’t you tell me? Why’d you keep this from me?”

“Nik asked me to.”

“Excuse me for saying this, but fuck Nik. You should have told me. We’re friends. We’re friends and this is my family we’re talking about.”

“She knew if you found out that you’d leave. That you could back home.”

“Do you really blame me? I should go home. I should get on the next plane out of here and go home to my kids. Because they need me. Now more than ever.”

“The McMann kids need you too.”

“I’m sorry if this sounds harsh or makes me look like an asshole, but my kids are more important to me than those two.”

“And they should be. But you need to do this. And you know you need to do this. That you need to stay and find them. Would you be able to live with yourself, Tyler? Knowing you left them hear to die.”

He shakes his head, giving a derisive snort. “Don’t do that. Don’t put that on me. Don’t ask me to choose between my family and complete strangers. Because my family will come first. Every time.”

“Tyler, your family is safe. There’s people that can protect them. But the McMann kids? They have no one. There’s no one else looking for them. There’s just you. No one else cares. Not even their own parents. If you leave, they die. It’s as simple as that. They only have you. Whether they realize that or not. And I know you, man. I know how your brain works. You’d go home and you’d try and go on with your life but you wouldn’t stop thinking about them. You wouldn’t be able to live with yourself knowing that you just up and abandoned them and sealed their fate.”

He heaves a heavy sigh, then sinks into one of the chairs at the table near the patio window. Elbows on his knees, rocking slightly back and forth; eyes riveted on the floor, the fingers of his right hand absentmindedly fidgeting with his wedding band. Attempting to calm himself; to rid himself of the intense anger that has every nerve ending on fire and his chest feeling impossibly tight.

“Look…” Yaz approached cautiously, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. “…I didn’t keep it from you to hurt you, okay? I kept in front you because I needed you to keep your head in the game. I knew once you found out, everything would just go to shit. That you’d be hell bent on getting home. Your kids are safe, Tyler. They’re in good hands. But the McMann kids? They have no one. Just you.”

“I can’t solve the world’s problems, Yaz. I’m sick of this fucking life. I’m sick of putting my wife through this. I’m sick of putting her and my kids in danger. They deserve better than that. You know they do.”

“I do. But I also know the McMann kids deserve better than what’s happening to them. Tyler, you’re all they have.”

“I don’t even know where they are. I’m no closer to finding them now than I was a week ago.”

“We’re getting closer. We know Heather McMann is involved. If we can find people who know her…if we can break her husband…”

“He’s out to kill me, Yaz. Or kill my family. He doesn’t want my help. All he cares about now is revenge.”

“You can break him, Tyler. You know you can. If you set something up…arrange to meet him…let him know everything you know…you can break him. You will break him.”

“What if he kills me first? Then I’m no good to his kids or mine.”

“Mark and I will keep an eye on things. And he has people. Here in Ireland. They’ve been watching you for the past week. Keeping an eye on you and Esme. Marines.”

“A lot of fucking good they did two days ago when I was getting my ass handed to me by four guys and a fucking shovel.”

“That was…unfortunate…”

Tyler snorts. “You think?”

“But we get them involved. We put eyes on you. And a wire. You go and you meet with McMann and you do whatever you have to get information out of him. And if you have to kill him after you get it out of him, I heard nothing and I saw nothing. You read me?”

He nods. “Loud and clear.”

“And we have Esme going tonight to talk that IRA guy. The bartender, so…”

“No. She’s not going. She changed her mind.”

“What? She can’t change her mind. This was her idea! It was her idea to do this in the first place and now she’s bailing? What the fuck?”

“She has her reasons. I’m not letting her go, Yaz. No way.”

“Just because you’ve got some jealous hang out about her being around other dudes…”

“That is not it. Trust me. That is not it.”

“…we need her to do this. This was all her idea. This was her baby. And because she doesn’t want to upset your fragile ego…”

“Yaz…drop it. She’s not going. I told her she wasn’t and she agreed with me. I’m not taking the chance that something could happen to her.”

“Nothing will happen to her. She’ll be wearing a wire. We won’t be far away. We will get there before anything could happen. What the fuck man? I get you two have your issues but…”

“This isn’t about our issues. This is about me wanting to keep her safe. I can’t have anything happen to her. Especially not now.”

“Especially not now? What the hell is that supposed to mean? What…?”

“She’s having a baby,” Tyler confesses, and he watches as the other man’s eyes widen in surprise.

“She’s pregnant? Esme’s pregnant?

“We just found out. Yesterday. We don’t even know how far along she is. She took a test…two tests…and they were both positive.”

“Are you sure?”

“Did you not just hear me? I said she took two tests. Both positive.”

“Was this intentional? Like were you guys planning on having another one or…”

“We’ve been trying,” Tyler confirms. “Actively.”

“Jesus…” Yaz sighs, and runs a palm over his mouth. “…I take back what I said. I’m not pissed now that she changed her mind.”

“I can’t take the chance, mate. I just can’t. Not just with her. But with the baby. And believe me, I’d send her home right now if I knew she’d be safe there. But she’s not. It’s better for her…and the baby…if she stays here with me. Where I can protect her. Protect them.”

Yaz nods in agreement. “I get it, man. I do. This is big. This is huge. Congrats…” he offers a hand, and Tyler shakes it. “…another Rake, huh? May God have mercy on us all.”

Tyler smirks.

“There’s a still a way you know. To get information out of this Billy guy.”

“How? I’m not sending her in there Yaz. There’s no way. So…”

“What if you both go in there. Just surprise him.”

“He’ll know who I am. I’ve been made. So have you. That’s why we had Esme come here to begin with.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore. Whether this guy knows you or not. He’s not involved. This isn’t the IRA that has these kids. The IRA is pissed right? At McMann? At the Buckmans? They’re pissed and they’re out for blood. So what if you help them. What if you offer your help to get McMann and the Buckmans? What if you worked with them?”

“Yaz, you’re asking me to team up with a terrorist organization.”

“You’re not teaming up with them to do terrorist shit though. You’re teaming up with them to get back at McMann. To get the Buckmans. To find those kids. If you go in there and just lay all your cards out on the table, tell this Billy what you’re there for and what you want from them, he’s going to go along with it. The IRA is after McMann and if they even have the slightest inkling about where Heather McMann is…”

“It could lead me to the kids,” Tyler finishes for him.

“Exactly! What do you think? Is it worth a shot?”

Tyler nods. “I think it could work.”

It has to work.

#tyler rake #tyler rake fan fiction #tyler rake fan fic #extraction #sanctuary #chris hemsworth character

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wdiblr-blog · 5 years ago

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majikhairtreatment-blog · 5 years ago

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Say Welcome to Fuller Scalp

Today, this moment will be the last one where you spend your time worrying or grieving over the look of your hair. The rising cases of hair baldness in Chandigarh have touched an alarming rate. With the exponential growth of technology over the years, you might surely wonder, “Is there a way to treat my hair problems?”

You might have gone over the cases of hair transplant in Chandigarh online, or heard such stories from your friends. The disappointment of getting a visibly fake hair might have stopped you for a second thought. If there is one thing worse than getting a bald patch, it’s getting a low-quality hair patch in Chandigarh.

It becomes the responsibility of the hair studio you choose, to provide you with the results you’re dreaming of. Along the years, people have started refraining from the surgical hair transplantation procedure owing to the complications. Majik Hair Restoration Center has gained an overwhelmingly positive reputation for being the ace in their game. They understand the nook and corner of their work which leads to complete customer satisfaction.

The delicate procedures that Majik proposes for your scalp, use very fine strands of human hair that look real on you. They are planted extremely delicately over your skin, which makes them completely invisible to the third person. Forget about anyone else, even you will be astonished by the surprising results after one session.

The limelight isn’t on one service provided by Majik, they work as tube light - spreading the light of their services on every problem related with your hair. Men, women, boys and girls of all age are welcome at the branches of Majik stores that promise to change their life to beautiful.

Within a fraction of minute, the attendees at Majik will work their magic to provide a fresh air of hair to your scalp. Having stationed at Amritsar, Delhi, and Mumbai, Majik Hair Restoration Centers provide Hair Fibers to increase the density of thin hair, Hair Extensions to increase the volume or length of your flowy hair, Hair Wigs to cover extreme baldness, and Hair Weaving that braids natural or synthetic hair over your existing tress to provide thickness. Every process is non-surgical and safe.

The complete freedom of waving your hair independently with the air will thank you for the natural appearance that the Hair Restoration by Majik gave you.

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hairlineinternational-blog · 6 years ago

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Hair loss treatment in Mumbai | Hair fall treatment in Mumbai

Stop worrying about your hair loss! Here is the Hairline international the best hair transplantation clinic in Mumbai would like to take the opportunity to the serve the hair loss problems of Mumbai people. At Hairline international we offer Hair loss treatment, Hair fall treatment, PRP treatment, FUE, FUT hair transplantation and advanced robotic hair transplantation in Mumbai people who are suffering with hair loss. We do provide non-surgical hair services like Hair fixing, Hair weaving, hair bonding and hair wigs for both men and women. Now hairline has emerged as the destination for the hair treatments in Mumbai, Bangalore.

How does hair transplantation in Mumbai goes on

First doctor will analyse scalp condition

Doctor will go through the complete medical history of client.

After the complete analyzing doctor decides the number of grafts to do hair transplantation

Through some blood tests doctor analyses present medical condition.

If everything up to the doctors expectations he suggests going for hair transplantation.

What are the different types of hair transplant done by hairline international Mumbai Here are the different type’s hair transplantation by Hairline international offers

FUT( Follicular Unit Transplantation

FUE( Follicular Unit Extraction

Bio FUE

Bio FUT

Bio FUE + FUT

Facial hair transplantation

Long hair transplant

Body hair transplant

Revision hair transplantation

Why Hairline international for hair transplantation in Mumbai

Hairline has rated as a leading trichology clinic by the Times of India

Hairline provides World class state of art facilities.

Hairline has in-house research center and laboratory

Advanced US-FDA approved procedures and equipment

Best and experienced team of trichologists

Certified and well training group of therapists

Customized treatments based on the individual requirement and medical history

We served many clients with 95% customer satisfaction.

FUT Hair Transplantation in Mumbai

FUT (Follicular unit transplantation) is one of the hair transplantation method. Which is also known as strip hair transplantation in Mumbai. Which is the most used method for hair transplantation in India. This procedure includes extraction of a strip of skin from the donor area and from the strip hair follicles will be taken out and then transplants the hair follicles in the recipient area. FUT hair transplant suites to those wants to go for hair transplantation in Mumbai with large number of grafts. Most of the doctors suggests FUT hair transplant in Mumbai to reach the customer expectations. Hairline international has the best FUT transplant surgeons in Mumbai to make your hair transplantation more successful. The cost of FUT hair transplant is reasonable compared to FUT and robotic hair transplant in Mumbai.

FUE Hair Transplantation in Mumbai

FUE and FUT are two primary methods to extract the hair follicles from the donor area. In this procedure individual hair follicles harvests from the donor area, will be transplanting in the bald area. This procedure best suites for the people who wants to have hair transplantation with less hair follicles.

Unlike FUT hair transplant individual hair follicles will extract from the donor area, one hair follicles will be extracted once. Whereas FUT Hair transplant a strip of skin with hair follicles will remove.

Unlike FUT hair transplantation there is no stitches, scars involved in the procedure.

Less pain involved while harvesting the hair follicles because skin won’t be separated in this procedure.

By using FUE hair transplant method any part of the body bearing hair can be considered as a donor area.

Hairline international has The best hair transplantation surgeons, advanced equipment to perform FUE hair transplant in Mumbai.

Robotic hair transplantation in Mumbai

Hairline international has come up with the advancement in the hair transplantation, Robotic hair transplantation in Mumbai, where this helps in automating the follicular unit extraction (FUE) Procedure. Where the robot will carry through harvesting of hairs to hair transplantation.

What is robotic hair transplant

Robotic hair transplantation is technologically advanced method of hair transplant to treat the baldness. Where the robotic hair transplant simplifies the process of hair transplantation and increases the success of hair transplantation. Robotic hair transplantation is used for follicular unit extraction (FUE) method.

#Best hair transplantation clinic in Mumbai Robotic hair transplantation in Mumbai Hair transplant surgeons in Mumbai hair transplantation co

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mycosmoshine · 3 years ago

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Best Hair Transplant Clinic In Mumbai

1. Hair Transplant Clinic In Andheri

Is your hair loss bothering you! Then's the stylish place, Cosmoshine clinic Conventions are the stylish Hair Transplant Clinic In Andheri would like to take the occasion to serve the hair loss problems of Mumbai people. At Hairline International, we offer different Hair loss treatment, Hair fall treatment, FUT hair transplant, beard hair transplant, combination hair transplant, modification hair transplant, long hair transplantation, and advanced robotic hair transplantation in Mumbai to the people who are suffering from hair loss. We do givenon-surgical hair services like Hair fixing, Hair weaving, hair cling, and hair toupee for both men and women.

2. Hair Transplant Centres In Andheri West

Still, a Hair transplant will be the stylish and endless result for this problem, If you feel shy to talk to others because of your balding head. Hair transplant is a veritably precious procedure so to get the stylish Hair Transplant Centres In Andheri West can be a delicate task for you. But, if you're looking for the stylish hair transplant surgeon in Mumbai also you need to consider some points before to choose anyone.

3. Hair Transplant Clinic In Andheri

The hair transplant in Mumbai depends on colorful parameters. Some of the factors affecting the hair transplant price in Mumbai are the size of the philanthropist zone, the fashion of hair transplant used, the number of sittings needed, the experience of the Hair Transplant Clinic In Andheri West performing the procedure, the quality of hair, the viscosity asked, etc. It's a myth that hair transplant cost is unaffordable for a common person. Just as with celebrity hair transplants, Dr. Priyanka Aher Clinic follows the stylish clinical protocols, offers the stylish treatment and delivers the asked results to you at an affordable cost. Due to his knowledgeable experience and fidelity towards his cases, Dr. Priyanka Aher is considered as one of the stylish hair transplant surgeon in Mumbai.

4. Cosmetologist In Andheri West

Cosmetology is the study and application of beauty treatment. It is the science which focuses on making people look good. It comprises many branches which include beauty therapy and treatments for face, hair, body and overall health care. A Cosmetologist In Andheri West is an expert in makeup, skin care and beauty products. He or she provides beauty services that include cosmetic care for hair, skin and body.

5. Best Hair Transplant In Andheri West

Cosmoshine clinic is a reputed Best Hair Transplant In Andheri West which encourages its callers to find out further about the hair restoration procedure and whether it's the right choice for them. Our callers watch the procedure‘ live’ using the hair transplant videotape link and are encouraged to note the differences similar as the look of hair transplant ahead and later. We follow a transparent and married approach; there's a establishment belief that one result can noway relatively fit all. Bespeak an Appointment for a discussion with a Stylist at a cosmoshine clinic near you. Check out our List of Clinic Centres.

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tiaclinicblog · 3 years ago

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Is your hair loss bothering you! Here is the best place, Tia Clinics are the best Hair Transplant Clinic In Andheri would like to take the opportunity to serve the hair loss problems of Mumbai people. At Hairline International, we offer different Hair loss treatment, Hair fall treatment, FUT hair transplant, beard hair transplant, combination hair transplant, revision hair transplant, long hair transplantation, and advanced robotic hair transplantation in Mumbai to the people who are suffering from hair loss. We do provide non-surgical hair services like Hair fixing, Hair weaving, hair bonding, and hair wig for both men and women.

#hair transplant clinic in andheri #Hair Transplant in Andheri #hair transplant in andheri west #PRP Hair Treatment Andheri #best hair transplant clinic in mumbai

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newhairtrendz · 3 months ago

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Hair Fixing, Wigs, and Weaving in Mumbai

you’re dealing with hair thinning or bald spots, our Hair Fixing Service in Santacruz West is here to help. We provide advanced hair fixing solutions that restore volume and confidence. Our team uses cutting-edge techniques and high-quality materials to seamlessly integrate hair, giving you a natural and flawless look. For those seeking versatile hair solutions, our Hair Wig Service Santacruz West offers an array of stylish and natural-looking wigs. We provide custom wigs that match your desired style, color, and texture. Our wigs are made from premium materialsExplore our Hair Weaving Service in Mumbai for a long-lasting and natural hair enhancement. Hair weaving is an excellent option for adding volume and length to your hair without the need for frequent adjustments. We use advanced weaving techniques

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saltyrunawaynight · 3 months ago

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Ever tried to flag down a taxi during Mumbai’s monsoon season? It's like trying to get a cat to perform a synchronized swimming routine—nearly impossible and pretty darn frustrating. So, why not skip the soaked shoes and gridlock by hopping on a bike rental in Mumbai? It's not only about the thrill of wind in your hair but also the joy of discovering Mumbai’s nooks without a meter running faster than your heartbeat.

Let's dive into some little-known tips that make getting a bike on rent in Mumbai as easy as enjoying a vada pav by the beach – effortless, affordable, and deliciously rewarding.

Quick Tip #1: Best Times to Rent

Plan Your Rental for the Weekdays: Let's face it, Mumbai never sleeps, but it does take a brief nap on early weekday mornings. Getting a bike rental in Mumbai early in the day from places like Rentnhop ensures you avoid the weekend rush and sometimes even scores you a better rate.

Quick Tip #2: Select the Right Bike

Choose a Bike That Matches Mumbai’s Terrain: Not all bikes are created equal, especially when they need to tackle Mumbai’s bustling bazaars and occasional potholes. Opt for something sturdy yet nimble—a scooter or a lightweight motorcycle perhaps, something that lets you weave through traffic like a local street dog chasing the infamous Mumbai crows.

Quick Tip #3: Understand Traffic Nuances

Master the Mumbai Traffic Mantra: If you think the 'Yellow Light' in traffic signals is a suggestion to slow down, Mumbai's pace will teach you otherwise. It's more of a dare to speed up before the red appears. Understanding local driving behavior helps in navigating safely. Always be alert, especially during peak hours, and remember that the horn is your best friend.

Quick Tip #4: Know the Parking Hacks

Scout for Smart Parking Spots: One does not simply park anywhere in Mumbai. To avoid tickets, towed bikes, or scratches from passersby, look for designated parking areas, often hidden behind the main streets or underneath city flyovers. Better yet, apps and services like Rentnhop provide insights into the best parking spaces citywide.

Quick Tip #5: Leverage Local Apps for Navigation

Use Navigation Apps for Real-Time Traffic Updates: While Google Maps is a common go-to, try using local apps that cater specifically to Mumbai’s traffic patterns. They offer real-time updates and can sometimes suggest quicker, alternative routes that save time and fuel.

Discovering Mumbai’s Hidden Secrets

Here’s something many don’t know: Mumbai is home to one of the largest national parks within city limits worldwide—Sanjay Gandhi National Park. It’s a breath of fresh air, literally, amidst the concrete jungle. Why not get a bike on rent in Mumbai and explore this natural wonder? You might even spot a deer or two, a rare sight more thrilling than spotting a celebrity in the wild suburbs of Bandra!

Conclusion

As you gear up to return your bike, maybe with a heart a little heavier and hair a tad messier, it’s hard not to smile. Mumbai, with its chaotic charm, has been a little more accessible thanks to your two-wheeled companion. Remember, in a city that thrives on the buzz of activity, opting for a bike on rent in Mumbai isn't just smart; it’s practically a survival tactic.

So, next time you find yourself at the mercy of Mumbai's monsoon or stuck in an endless cab queue, remember that a set of wheels from Rentnhop could be your ticket to freedom. After all, in Mumbai, sometimes the quickest way to move forward is on two wheels, not four. And who knows? Maybe on your next bike adventure, you'll discover more than just shortcuts—you might just discover a new part of yourself. Happy biking, and remember: when life throws you traffic, get a bike on rent in Mumbai.

#bike on rent in mumbai #bike rental in mumbai #bike rent mumbai #scooty on rent in mumbai

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maneologychd · 3 years ago

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Visit Our Hair Shop, The Best Hair Centre In Chandigarh, For Hair Bonding

Style your voluminous and shiny hair after our hair transplant treatment. We assure you that you will get hair care with us. Whether you are in search of Hair Bonding in Chandigarh or hair wigs, we provide all. We offer complete hair solutions to all our patrons. We put all our efforts and dedication when it comes to hair care. From Hair bonding to hair weaving, get all with us. Our top-level hair treatment will boost better hair growth and development. Do you want to try multiple styles in your hair? But whenever you touch your hair, you end up disappointed due to heavy hair loss and damaged hair.

Are you suffering from the same problem and scared of hair loss? Then you reached the right place. We have launched the best hair care centre for Hair patch in Chandigarh. We are available in Lucknow, Mumbai and Ahmedabad.

We are open to all your hair needs. Get the best and fantastic hair treatment with us in just a few clicks. We are just one call away. Book our appointment and get the best hair treatment. It is necessary to take better care of hair for its better development and growth. If you want healthy and voluminous hair, you must focus more on a healthy diet and stress-free life. Enjoy the top-level and best hair treatment with us and get the best hair care service. We are a reliable, legit and affordable hair centre highly remarkable for our hair treatment. Do you want unique and brilliant hair? Then approach us. We offer non-surgical and painless treatment of Hair transplant in Chandigarh. So why look here and there when our centre is here to help you. We have well-trained and experienced hair experts who are the best in their services.

Get our administration and pick the right and best for your hair. Our hair transplant treatment endeavors the better hair growth and development. We are open to fulfilling all your hair needs. Whether you want straight, wavy, long, short and curly hair, we are available for all.

#Hair replacement in chd #hair bonding #hair wigs

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glittergummicandypeach · 5 years ago

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Emeralds and desperation: My mother and Sathya Sai Baba | Religion | Al Jazeera

She ran through the Mumbai airport and checked each airline.

It was winter of 1984. We were visiting India from the United States and had been in Mumbai for two weeks. I was eight years old.

"Do you have any flights to Madurai?"

Madurai was the nearest airport to Kodaikanal, only 120km (75 miles) from where Sathya Sai Baba resided. But there were no flights to Madurai.

Possessed with a mad sense of urgency, my mother's next plan was to find a taxi. A private car must have been too expensive. She dragged me along as she approached taxi after taxi outside the airport and peered into each car to assess the driver. She wanted to make sure he was someone she could trust, someone who would not rape or rob us.

She found a taxi wallah, a kind old man dressed in a tattered lungi who warned us of bandits who kidnapped women during the night and stole from tourists. A long, clean machete sat next to him as he drove.

I curled my body onto the back seat, but I did not sleep at any point during the 24-hour car ride.

Instead, I watched the scenery of India pass us by as we drove from north to south. My skin melted into the tattered vinyl of the seat; my sweat mixed with the heavy air.

Every hour or so, I would carefully raise my face to the windows and look at all the lorries that drove past us. I wondered if they were filled with men who might mutilate us with their long knives. I somehow knew the definition of rape, how it was a violation of skin. I imagined men taking my mother somewhere into the jungle and irrevocably harming her. I shook with terror at the thought.

I watched people on autorickshaws, men on scooters, the way all the cars and trucks kicked up dirt and formed a never-ending cloud of dust.

It was so different to where we lived in Pasadena, California, where the roads were wide and evenly paved and the white and yellow lines clearly demarcated where cars belonged, the sleek sedans and beat-up Camaros.

In California, there were no lorries painted primary colours of blue, red and yellow, no automobiles that recklessly weaved around each other, no trails of smoke and dust that illustrated in which direction each car was headed, as if writing the story of their vehicular lives.

Later, I would realise that being in a taxi, rather than a rental car, made us safe; we blended into the local language of vehicles.

Rani and her mother pictured in Kodaikanal, Tamil Nadu during a trip to meet the Indian guru Sathya Sai Baba [Photo courtesy of Rani Neutill]

We had been going to see Sai Baba every year but this particular trip was frenetic. While we were in Mumbai, an astrologist told my mother it was an auspicious time and we needed to get to Kodaikanal to see Sai Baba.

My mother believed this was the time he was going to bless us, choose us - take us into his big home, answer her questions, yield a brilliant diamond and grant her wishes. This was what fuelled our trip down the subcontinent of India.

It was when I was five years old that my mother, a widowed Bengali immigrant in the US, became obsessed with Sathya Sai Baba, a philanthropist who claimed to be the reincarnation of Sai Baba of Shirdi. The original Sai Baba lived without worldly possessions, a true fakir. He was a saint with followers from both the Hindu and Muslim faiths and combined the teachings of both religions - a sort of peacekeeper in a nation that would become increasingly contemptuous and violent toward its Muslim minority.

Sathya Sai Baba did not live like this. A chauffeur drove him around in a Mercedes. His houses and cars were gifts from wealthy admirers in India, Western Europe, and the US. He always wore a full-sleeved, long orange kurta that shimmered with cleanliness. His massive coif of hair pointed into the air like lines of electricity drawn by a cartoonist. His presence was loud and boastful. So was his lifestyle, with lavish homes in both Puttaparthi and the hillside tourist destination of Kodaikanal.

Sathya Sai Baba died on April 24, 2011. Devotees of the Indian guru, including Sonia Gandhi, the former president of the Indian National Congress, paid their respects at an ashram in Andhra Pradesh [Adnan Abidi/Reuters]

As my mother's belief in Sathya Sai Baba grew stronger, she used her inheritance from my father to travel to various places in India and abroad. Our trips involved seeing my dida, my mother's mother, in Kolkata and visits to Sai Baba's compounds at least twice a year.

Each visit to see Sai Baba was the same. He separated his followers by gender. Women and their children were always huddled together. We walked into the enclosure that surrounded his mansion and sat down; the hard earth beneath us - a feeling of groundedness that dissipated when Sai Baba arrived. Our bodies tensed and roused with anticipation. I desperately wanted to see his bare feet approach us, to feel the stroke of his hand on my hair and receive his good tidings. My mother raised her hands in prayer. I copied her movements and lifted my hands in worship. We waited for his acknowledgment.

He walked around and waved like a beauty queen, his long orange kurta gracing the dust and dirt on the floor. My mother always held a note in her hand, hoping he would take it from her.

Please keep us financially stable.

Please let Rani get a good education and find a husband.

When will I die?

He randomly chose people to bring into his mammoth home where he performed small miracles. He made fancy goods like diamonds, emeralds, rubies, and vibuthi - a holy ash - magically spring from his palms. I never understood how he produced these riches. I suppose it might have been a sleight of hand.

Sai Baba was well known for his philanthropy. He accepted money from his wealthy devotees, built hospitals and schools for the poor. An educated elite of doctors and teachers donated their services in exchange for his blessings.

Devotees hold flowers to place on a sand sculpture of Indian spiritual guru Sri Sathya Sai Baba, created by sand artist Sudarshan Pattnaik, on a beach in Puri on April 24, 2011 [Stringer/Reuters]

There were also rumours of sexual misconduct, of his interest in teenage boys; allegations that were denied by Sai Baba and many of his followers.

I later learned that we did not have the money to give to his charities; whatever we had was rationed for travel.

On that frenzied trip, when we eventually arrived at our hotel, we met a white American couple. They were there to see Sai Baba as well. They had a baby, a little girl. She could not have been more than five months old. The wife wore a large emerald ring encrusted with tiny diamonds wrapped around her index finger. My mother looked at the ring, and the woman looked at her. The woman's blonde tresses stood out in contrast to my mother's night-black hair, the woman's blue eyes piercing, my mother's dark brown eyes overflowing with desire. The woman knew that the look on my mother's face was a question.

"Oh, this? Yes, Sai Baba made this for me."

The woman explained how Sai Baba had brought them into his home and performed his small miracles, the emerald ring and a tiny figurine of some god. She pulled the statue from her purse, and we marvelled at it. I held the idol in my palm and imagined it was a medallion worn by a superhero, that by holding it I would be granted good luck. The woman told us how her family was chosen, how they had bought Sai Baba a car in return for his blessings. There was a hint of superiority when she narrated this story, glancing at my mother with what I can only describe now as pity.

Rani's mother [Photo courtesy of Rani Neutill]

In our hotel room, my mother fiddled through our belongings, searching for some paper and a pen to write down all the questions she had for Sai Baba. I was exhausted, cold, and very hungry. A big bed called out to me to lie down. I begged for room service. My mother ordered me my favourite meal, masala dosa, which arrived on a stainless-steel thali with steam twisting through the air. The smell of potatoes and onions mixed with curry leaves, black mustard seeds, and green chilies, all wrapped in a long crepe, overwhelmed me.

I stuffed my face, dropping pieces of the dosa into the coconut chutney and sambar it was served with. Soon after, I began to throw up, heaving the food I had just devoured into the hotel toilet. I lay on the floor, peered up at the ceiling, and wondered if my mother would find the answers she came for.

The next morning, my mother pulled my shivering body up a hill. We were 5km (three miles) from Sai Baba's home.

"We must see him today," she said. "Today is the day. I know it."

I tugged the edges of my wool shawl to tighten it around me. I was weak, dizzy, and dehydrated from throwing up the night before. My mother did not notice. She had a look that I had seen before: a desperate plea for answers, a belief she was nearing an opportunity. Her hair stretched back into a messy bun, wisps of it defining her round face. Her deep brown eyes were a panorama of hope and wonder, her cheekbones high and alert.

I gazed at the path before me. A canopy of lush emerald-green trees marked the horizon. Clusters of fog surrounded us. I reached out to capture a handful of the tiny droplets that waltzed through the air. They disintegrated into nothingness.

As I gathered the breath to continue to move, my mother grabbed my wrist.

"I'm trying, mama. I'm trying," I said, in my eight-year-old voice. I knew I had to follow her. There could be no childhood resistance. She was the only thing I had. I was attached to her mind and body, and I only wanted to please her.

I shuffled my feet forward.

"Mama, can we take a taxi? I don't feel good."

"Na, sona, the fresh air will be good for you," my mother declared, perhaps to convince herself that my illness might be cured by the journey to see Sai Baba and the consecration he might grant us.

"We must walk, we must live minimally, the way Sai Baba has advised us."

I did not understand but trusted that my mother knew best. As we walked, I felt dizzier and dizzier from the elevation. I paused to regain my balance and tensed my legs to make them strong enough to carry me. A shiny white Hindustan Ambassador approached us and slowed its pace. The couple and their baby were in the car. The wife turned to look at us. My gaze met hers and lingered on her face and that of her child. She looked healthy and happy with her perfect nuclear family. Suddenly, I began to vomit. They drove away.

I would never feel the desperation that plagued my mother during those trips to find salvation. At that time, I did not know it was because demons lived inside her, demons that grew in her mind and ultimately led her to a tragic death. But when the car drove away, vomit splattered at my feet, my mother, distracted, filled with longing for someone to tell us our future, it defined my relationship with religion and revealed dynamics of wealth and race.

I now understand that my mother's fierce desires were tumultuous and dangerous. But at eight, I just noted the difference in race between my mother and I and the couple in the immaculate car. Mostly I felt confused: how could they leave a small girl and her mother behind? A sick child who should not have been walking kilometres to see a man who represented an almighty force? I understood the meaning of hypocrisy - even if I did not possess that word.

I wondered how Sai Baba could believe that these were the kinds of people that deserved his attention. And though I felt dirty and sullied from knowing the couple did not want me near the creamy leather of their shiny vehicle, I also felt rage. My legs suddenly felt strong and propelled me forward towards Sai Baba's compound. I felt the desperation that my mother felt; I wanted to prove to the couple that we were worthy of Sai Baba's love and attention. We were not unwanted.

When we finally reached Sai Baba's home, hundreds of people entered the arched columns of his compound. We sat on the floor. A chorus of men played instruments and brought Sai Baba in on a velvet throne. He was placed directly before us and assumed the posture of an idol, his hands in front of his chest, clasped in prayer. Eventually, he climbed off his regal chair and walked around and pointed at those he wanted to bring into his home.

Sai Baba asked the white woman with her baby to rise up and join the chosen few. My mother looked at her with desire and anticipation that the astrologer's predictions would finally materialise and Sai Baba would gesture for us to join this woman and we could rejoice. But he did not pick us.

He never would.

This content was originally published here.

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mulondonposts-blog · 6 years ago

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Looking for the best Mumbai wedding photographers? We get you up close and personal to Anand Rathi of Reel and Frames and his team. The phenomenal team that captured the ‘everyday phenomenal’ couple Sonam Kapoor and Anand Ahuja’s wedding!

Whether you’re looking for a Mumbai wedding photographer or simply the best in India, you can’t get better than Reels and Frames. Here we bring you everything from their journey and photography style, to their top tips and advice for couples!

Did you choose Candid Wedding Photography or did it choose you?

Dreamy

Neither! To say art was my calling will be exaggerating things. I guess, what drew me towards photography (initially) was that I could decode photography in terms of its technical building blocks for eg. rule of thirds, leading lines etc.

Royal Moment

Coming from an engineering background, perceiving things in such manner came naturally! It was only later that I began to see beyond the technical aspects and that is when photography truly captured my interest.

Pretty in Green

And then, wedding photography happened very late for me. I started as a nature/environment photographer shooting landscapes and people in my college campus in New York during my MBA days. Soon, my classmates noticed and requested me to ‘put’ them in the pictures!

Love-struck

Given most of my classmates were married (very typical in an MBA school in USA), this was my first taste of ‘couple shoots’. When I came back to India, I kept working as a treasury manager by the weekdays and a hobby photographer by the weekends, until one day when a friend asked me to ‘carry’ my camera at his wedding!

Bridal Glow!

I clicked some photos and the response was phenomenal! I started taking up more weddings and the weekend warrior regime began. One fine day, I took the leap of faith and jumped into photography full time and the rest is history (in making!)

What is unique about your photography style? How do you stay authentic to your style?

Our photography style is what I’ll call ‘environmental portraits’ where a lot of focus is also to capture a sense of where the subject is.

All Out for LOVE

For eg. if we are doing a prewedding shoot in the cherry blossoms, we’ll show the trees in their full glory along with the couple.We stay true to our style by taking a step back and observing where we are first, before we start clicking.

What, according to you, are the wedding photography trends for 2019?

The Butterflies in Tummy

Less poses, more emotions! Everyone is done with over the top poses and ‘statue’ moments. Clients are appreciating true photojournalism more and more and we believe this will continue.

As a wedding photographer, what do you focus more on – moments or people?

A healthy mix of both!

Heart-touching

As a company, we believe that even a ‘group portrait’ or a ‘family portrait’ can be done tastefully. And it should be done tastefully, it is often the family portrait that makes it to walls.

How important is post production editing to you? Do Indian clients understand and appreciate the effort between raw and edited pictures?

Let’s seal it with a Kiss

In the digital space, sometimes the difference between a good picture and a great picture can just be the ‘edit’. Even more so in video. Clients do understand the effort, especially when they receive the final pictures.

What is more challenging – videography at weddings or candid photography? What’s new in wedding videography?

Beauties in White

While each has its own challenge, shooting videos comes with a couple of added challenges. Shooting video is like clicking 25 pictures in one second, each one of which has to be perfect.

Finally Yours

Secondly, video requires a lot more editing effort, because we as editors try to weave the story together using numerous permutations and combination after reviewing the footage. And therein lies both the challenge and the fun!

What do you love capturing more – preweddings or weddings?

Family Focus

Both equally. Preweddings are an ice-breaker with the couple and a fantastic opportunity to shoot in a controlled environment. While weddings provide a plethora of raw emotions and are spontaneous.

Three questions a couple must ask before booking a wedding photographer?

Black or White

How would you define your style?

How can we combine your style and our personality type seamlessly?

What are some of the things you would suggest to help us get the best from your services?

Your top tips for couples to be?

Saat Phere

Manage your time well during the wedding days.

Don’t micro manage the event details.

Try and let your hair down and forget the first point while you are at it!

Which is your favorite wedding from last year?

Everyday Phenomenal

Sonam Kapoor’s wedding was definitely a party to remember!

Your most memorable couple ever?

Silhouette Love

Honestly, I won’t be able to pick one. So many of them have become friends and its hard to chose!

Which is that one location/destination you’d love to shoot at?

Magnificent

Umaid Bhawan palace, Jodhpur is one place that we love going back to again and again.

Have you ever faced any last minute crisis at a shoot and how did you overcome it?

All the time. Shooting events is like firefighting!

Shower with Haldi & Beer

We’ve dealt with issues from kids breaking our drones, to camera equipment being stolen, to our camera getting drenched in unexpected rains! Fortunately, we have a policy of carrying backup of everything. Plus, we are a big team so this allows for last minute replacements.

When you are doing couple shoots, most people are shy/nervous in front of the camera. How do you make sure your clients are comfortable?

That ‘Varmala’ moment

We try and think of ourselves as friends of the couple (friends with a really fancy camera!). The chats that follow put the couple at ease and post that it just flows.

Not all clients are creative or bold. How do you manage to create a balance between your creative instincts & clients’ demands?

Ensuring that clients chose us for our style and not our ‘brand value’ is the first step to achieving coherency.

Togetherness

The second step is having a detailed discussion with the client on how they want their wedding photos to look and trying to figure out how we can achieve that within our style.

With so much traveling, how do you manage a work – life balance?

That department is a bit of a stinker!

Here comes the Groom

Last year I took about 105 flights and this year 15 will be done before the first month ends. But when work is passion and passion is work, who can complain?

There you go! That was our heart to heart chat with leading Mumbai wedding photographer Anand Rathi of Reels & Frames, that brings you everything you need to know about them. Love them? Let us know why in comments below…

The post Leading Mumbai Wedding Photographer & our Hot Favourite this Month – Reels & Frames! appeared first on ZoWed.com | Blog.

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