///Prologue: Fiddler on the Roof/
 
//9 Years ago/
 
The eminent night air in the city was calm, cool…
 
…perfect…
 
The concrete made nature greener, nature made concrete colder. Noises conflicted with silence and silence was made precious. All the elements were in their own balancing act. Everything was perfect.
Everything was just setting in, the sun lit everything in a blaze of orange fire. For Molly, she remembered looking up at the brick walls of the school house. A deep pit grew in the bottom of her stomach, her report card had been sent home today, and the mark for ‘fail’ was larger than the passing grades that surrounded it.
Her school was for the wealthy and elite, her father was the president at his company’s branch here in India, and her father always spoiled her. 'All the best for my daughter' he would repeat and a dogma he always tried to follow.
Music lessons started again for the season, violin and piano. She was the star student here, an ‘up and coming prodigy’ as her instructor would tell her parents. But with that one failing mark, the hopes of furthering her passion for music this year could easily come to an abrupt end.
Molly sat on the enormous flight of stairs that led to the front door. Ten minutes passed, no sign of her dad’s car. Five more, all the students had left and it was only her on the school yard now.
The breeze and the trees accompanied her, followed by the ruckus of midtown Mumbai. Her heart fluttered, the suspense of his arrival and words she compiled in her mind, the excuse for her failing grade. The look of disappointment on his face and the impending argument between her father and her mother...
Finally, a black Bentley pulled up to the school gates.
Time to face the inevitable…
The walk from the entrance to the school gate was much longer today, nothing felt right, and that was for sure. Her father’s unexplained tardiness was surprising. He was a man of stringent values and almost military level authority he held upon his household. It was usually Molly that was holding him up.
When she opened the door, instead of the expected scowl, she was greeted by a cheery smile.
“Hello sweety! How was your day at school?”
She nodded slightly, he was never one for subtlety or indirect conversation, he was always straight to the point.
The car speed off from the front gate in a sudden lurch, pushing Molly back in her seat. Her father was much more energetic today than any other day. The pit in her stomach left, a light of relief let a small ray in her heart. Maybe he hadn't found the grades in the mail today. Maybe she could get home and intercept the letter before it reached her parents hands!
The Bentley came to a stop, the seatbelt digging into Molly's chest. She looked over to her father with a smile, and he looked back with a grin on his face.
"Have I ever told you how much I love you?"
"Very."
"Well, I love you more than anything in the world sweety." Then he reached over and ruffled her hair a bit.
The light turned green and the car jolted forward.
"Sweety, we need to talk..."
NO! Not now! He was building up to it! Why now? Why was he building up to it!? Her heart took a plummet to the floor of the car.
Here it comes…
“There’s going to be a big change coming soon…”
A few papers fell out of the sun visor above her and on her lap. The top one in big bold letters read:
PRENUPTUAL AGREEMENT
-------
 
//7 Years ago/
 
The divorce took a little more than a year to finish, but it also took their life.
Mr. Kapur invested a lot of money into the marriage. However, he left it with everything but his children and a large monthly support bill.
His company offered him position of ‘Secretary of Foreign Relations’, a unanimous vote by the board of directors in Japan. The new job would unfortunately take him to Yokohama.
Proving the case to the judge was an ease on Mr. Kapur’s part, both parties accepted it on grounds of ‘Abandonment’ through Hindu law. Deciding on the distribution of property was the main battle, the prenup was seen as illegitimate and immoral, but Mr. Kapur’s lawyer was able to prove otherwise considering that Mr. Kapur was now a baptized Christian.
The judge decided on keeping the daughter and the five year old son with their mother in Mumbai, India. A decision that came with a weeping mother and a disappointed father in the courthouse.
 
Their new home would be a little less lavish. For Molly, the move from the house to the apartment was shocking. No longer was she allowed to play with the neighborhood kids, in fact, there were no children at the apartment. But all that still mattered was that she had her violin.
 
When her parents would argue in the days before, she would lock herself in her room and drown out the noise with music. Her music. She didn’t need to hear her parents argue; she didn’t need to hear anyone. All that mattered was that her music was there. Even then, she could hear the booming voice of her father through the walls of their house. Sometimes, she could feel her father keep a rhythm, somewhere between Adante and Moderato between the emphasis he put on his words. The finalie would be her father storming out of the house with a large BANG on the door, announcing the end of their 'difference settling'.
 
Now days, the land lady received complaints when she practiced her violin. The smelly cat lady downstairs or the drunk across the hall were the chronic ones. Since the landlady herself didn’t mind the music, she received the key to the roof.
 
“My grandson used to be just like you, played violin his whole life. You know, one day, you might be a great musician if you put your heart into it!”
 
She was a larger woman, a little round at the edges, and always sat in her smoky office with a soap drama on a small portable television. Every day at about eight PM, Molly would find her way downstairs, retrieve the key from the landlady, then proceed to the rooftop.
 
Sometimes it would be night. It was too bright in the city to see the stars, but the city lights allowed her to see her music. Sometimes, she would play in accompaniment to the city noises, the beats from the building’s air conditioner, horns and sirens and the voice of her mother calling up to the rooftop announcing her bed time. Nothing was wrong, all things in their place. Those evenings, she cherished.
 
-------
 
//18 months ago/
 
There she was, a lone girl. Not lost, just wandering about in the financial district of Mumbai, a sight not many get to see.
 
A café her father used to take her to, now a place to relax. Her violin propped against the wall and a cup of tea in front of her. Sometimes, she imagined her father walking in with a business suit on and a smile on his face. Then they would take the train home together. The air always smelt of coffee beans and curry in here, not a pleasant mix but the food made up for it, an English style building left over from older days.
 
Today, however, her mother would arrive in place of her father.
This day, Molly was proud; a secondary school’s worth of work had come to today. The first time a second year student was a first chair violinist in her band. Not to mention her secondary school had set her vocational studies so she could become a professional musician. Her life was already mapped out for her.
 
Then, through the door her mother appeared. Molly waved to catch her attention, picked up her violin, then ran off.
 
On the way out, she checked the time.
 
6:15
 
The train leaves at 6:25; hopefully she would be able to make it in time. Her performance at the auditorium was in 45 minutes.
 
-------
 
“Kapur-san!  Chubachi-sama wishes to have a meeting with you tomorrow morning, ten o’clock.”
 
“Ok then, tomorrow I can do that. Thank you, have a good evening!”
 
His secretary left with a small bow. He responded in kind.
His Japanese, even for spending almost six years in the country, was still developing. A vocabulary  People stopped telling him his Japanese was good for a foreigner now days, that was always good.
Evening was slowly dropping on the city skyline. His office overlooked Tokyo bay, but the sunset behind him only put the lights on the sky scrapers. Taking a yawn, stretching his arms, he prepared to leave for home. Maybe a quick stop by the local watering hole to rest his nerves a bit would help.
His normal routine: coat, briefcase, notes, keys, wallet. Good.
 
Walking through the silent office at night was a little abnormal; the main floor was usually a commotion of people and chatter, information being streamed from person to person. Seeing this place, even now, always felt a little unsettling. What should be the quietest thing in the room was the loudest, the shuffling of his feet on the thick carpet seemed to echo off the cubicles.
 
The elevator bell that announced its arrival was louder than usual, probably because of the silence…
 
Even more unsettling was the elevator, giving away its soft humm as the car descended down. Bored enough, he found himself checking the time on his watch twice now.
 
The bell announced his arrival once again on the ground floor. He took a deep breath, then exited.
 
His footsteps cracked across the floor of the darkened lobby. The security guard nodded to him as he left, barely lifting his eyes from the television playing news, echoing in the stone building.
 
“Train bombings ----Today. Victims----many----…”
 
Nothing new…
 
“…Mumbai…”
 
He knew it would be nothing, it should be nothing.
 
Riots between Muslims and Hindus broke out all the time. Molly should...be at home today...maybe.
 
Still, he should probably call Molly and check on her…