#abhinavthreads

Abhinav had not presented himself as one to help with the search - he did not count himself the best individual for such ventures and he didn't want to worry his kids. Not that they would be too surprised if he did throw his body at the problem, like he would, constantly, to their annoyance. Instead he was grumbly aware that he'd be needed later, when this was all over, he would end up with a whole lot more people in the chair opposite of himself. Which, despite that it was his job, filled him with dread.

They took a deep breath, walking along the main road between the art shack and the clinic, knowing he would probably find someone who needed to a pick-me-up, not that he could offer more than words, but even the thought of offering some words, was enough to quell their own feeling of being on the edge of something bad. It wasn't that odd for Anchorage to be losing people to disappearances, it happened more than they were comfortable with, but they'd seen plenty of new people arriving.

Walking up to the first person he saw with slightly slumped shoulders, he offered a genuine smile. "You alright there, bud?" Bud, not a word he would usually use, but people reacted well to offers of familiarity, even if they were strangers. "Any way I can help?"

Abhinav was cleaning up after a successful day at the art-shack. He was always glad when he felt like after a session of two hours with paint and what not, he could say he’d helped people. It was one reason why Abhinav was such a big fan of art: it was more than just pretty pictures, there was so much humanity in them. He cleared the last few things away and sat down with the last stray from that day’s session, taking out a tupperware. “I tried to carve a pumpkin, but in the end it looked like a hot mess, so I made some soup instead, want to try it?”

Death was a subject most people were familiar with, whether it was the death of a close friend, family, or someone simply once in their life. Everyone reacted differently to such news. Abhinav had grown up in a culture where someone’s death was followed by a whole ritual, where steps had to be taken before one could let go, where things took time, but where there was so much time to stand still to remember. He’d always been invested in the matter, had always looked for meaning in every moment that death took within the world of the living. He’d made sure the rituals presented for his wife had given his family time to grief. But not all deaths were given the same amount of attention. He’d figured out when he had moved to the United States with his mother and siblings, that in Western cultures, it was something that had to be barrelled through as quickly as possible, and to take a moment to reflect was impossible. One didn’t speak of death. 

In Anchorage, one spoke of murder. 

Abhinav was glad to find Valerie within the crowd as the talk turned sour, the murdered girl cast aside to speak of her potential murderers. He wasn’t even part of the conversation, but he could feel the claw of its subject push its talons into his back, and he addressed Valerie hoping he didn’t come off as too eager to get out. “Val, hi,” he said. “It’s beautiful weather, isn’t it, would you like to drink our coffees outside?” he asked.

Abhinav knew he couldn’t take days off, not when he was so busy helping people, not when his agenda was filled to the brim with appointments and meetings and sit-downs. He made sure to go to bed on time, to enjoy tea, take baths, try to relax in the types that he did have. It worked, but he realised after a day or two off, that his body was still exhausted. He had a hard time stopping, to slow down, even on his off days. 

But he knew this would pass, that within a month or two, things would slow down again. 

Meaning that on his off day, he was still taking care of others. He set the tea down in front of Dorothy and offered her the leftover candy from Diwali. “Alright, there is tea, snacks, we can relax now. How have you been, Da-eun?”

Abhinav, unlike most of his colleagues, did engage in full conversations with patients outside of work. He wasn’t one who saw any problem with it as long as the conversation didn’t fall into the subjects discussed behind closed doors. That was his only rule. At times however, he felt like it was saver to hide away from people. Saver, but at times also unkind. 

He spotted Hercule in the supermarket and figured he’d just say hi, perhaps talk about dinner, he knew that was - or could be - a hard topic for Hercule, but it was also the only subject of conversation he could think of that related to the supermarket. 

“Hello Hercule,” he said, offering a smile. “Getting stocked up for the weekend?”

The South Asian Hindi community wasn’t necessarily big in Anchorage, only a handful of them could be found around the small town and Abhinav didn't know half of them, which would be odd, and he knew if he ever brought his mother here, she would instantly make a difference in that. But in a town where people constantly left and came, it was hard to establish any type of community. So he would have to share his Mathai with random people because he simply couldn’t spend less on them. He felt like he was personally putting the kids of the owner of the local Indian restaurant through school, given how much money he spent on it. His kids brought a whole box of delicious snacks to school every day of Diwali, strutting in their new clothing. 

To Abhi, Diwali was like new years, it offered a new start for everything; new clothing, clean house, oil bath. Everything was coated in light, even though Anchorage was starting to get coated in white snow. He took a spot in the library, his box of Mithai placed before him as he read a good chunk of summaries on the back of books to start the year again. He looked up at a stranger and opened the box. “Would you like some Indian snacks?” he asked. “It’s Diwali today, so I am sharing.”

There was nothing like a good oil bath to start off Diwali, and despite the way his kids would every single year complain about the tradition, they would also always participate. They’d soak them all in oil, and then they’d all take a hot bath after rinsing off all of it again. He always felt better after it, new, clean, reinvigorated. When people asked, he’d joke that it was the reason why he still looked so young at forty-seven. 

He did a special class on Diwali at the art-shack, making the oil lamps used at night to battle the darkness. It rarely got very popular, with only a handful of people showing up. But the promise of Mithai at least got a few more to show up. 

“Hello Nikolai, I hope you’re here to participate and not just to eat all the snacks,” he said in jest, as he offered the box of assorted Indian snacks. “Though, of course, I’d totally accept it if it’s just the snacks.”

Abhinav expected to find many familiar faces at the party, perhaps those he’d seen recently, or those he hadn’t seen for a while. The promise of getting to party with familiar faces had made it easier to leave his kids behind and go out by himself, knowing those three would find a way to amuse themselves. 

As a physiatrist and general meddler in a small town like this, plenty of people he met were either his patients or had received (unasked for) advice from him on one or multiple occasions. He basked in the possibility of checking up with some of them, wanting to know how they were doing. So when he spotted Ophelia, he was quick to head towards her. “Hello Ophelia, how have you been?” he asked, a warm smile.