Fic: "Praarthana," Heroes, PG, Mohinder/M3.
Everyone's gettin' their culture and religion on in fandom, so why should Mohinder Suresh miss out? I was actually thinking to write a fic involving Dussehra, which is on Oct. 21 this year and I suppose I could've tried to touch on Navratri, which starts tonight, but the fic didn't quite work out that way!
Also, I am a Bengali Hindu and not a South Indian Hindu, so that may make this rather hinky.
Title: "Praarthana" 1/1
Author: monimala
Fandom: Heroes
Rating/Classification: PG, Mohinder gen (Mohinder/Matt implied).
Disclaimer: The brilliant minds behind Heroes own all except for the "guest stars."
Summary: 415 words. An M3 fic. Mohinder's toys are weird.
Note: "praarthana" is the Sanskrit word for "prayer" or "requesting one's desires."
Molly finds his shrine on her second day in the apartment. It's not that he's hiding it, but between his father's books and his own, it was hard to find some shelf space for the small statues he brought with him from India. Still, he carved out a tiny niche, complete with a tea candle and a small dish of sugar cubes and almonds that the ever-present New York rats --and his namesake, the lizard-- have not yet gotten to.
"Are these your toys?" she asks him, tiny and pale fingers tracing over Venkateswara's eye-less face. "They're weird!"
"You don't know the half of it, sweetheart," he laughs, taking the black stone figure from her and gently putting it back next to the Shiva lingam he hopes he will never have to explain. Shiva, Venkateswara, Sita and Rama. These are his companions from the old world to the new. His past, his present, and hopefully the bearers of a better future.
By the time Matt moves in with them, barely recovered, he has taught Molly to light the candle --only when he is watching-- to pray for safety to whatever God she chooses, and to touch the sugar to her forehead before letting it melt on her tongue.
"I like this one," she murmurs one evening, peering down into Sita's beautiful, ivory face. He does not tell her of Sita's tragedy, of her pain, knowing that Molly's own must be what draws her to the goddess incarnate.
"Doesn't anyone go to church anymore?" Matt huffs, irritably, from the sofa, though Mohinder has seen him eye the lingam with an all-too curious expression and suspects that he must've picked up on a stray, embarrassed thought of the "please don't let Molly notice it's a phallus" variety.
Two evenings after that, he catches Matt lighting the candle in front of Venkateswara. "I want the Dodgers to win!" he excuses with a mutter, blushing beet red.
"Nonsense. Sri Venkateswara-ji is a Giants fan." Mohinder chuckles, stealing an almond and tossing into the perfect, outraged, 'O' of Matt's mouth.
Mohinder's faith has been tested a thousand times in less than one year. So much so that he's not even sure what he believes beyond the observance of a ritual. Light the candle. Whisper the Gayatri mantra. Listen to his daughter mangle it as she rushes to copy his every action. Taste the sweet nuttiness on Matthew's lips. Snuff the light.
He has carved out a niche. It is complete.
--end--
October 12, 2007
Also, I am a Bengali Hindu and not a South Indian Hindu, so that may make this rather hinky.
Title: "Praarthana" 1/1
Author: monimala
Fandom: Heroes
Rating/Classification: PG, Mohinder gen (Mohinder/Matt implied).
Disclaimer: The brilliant minds behind Heroes own all except for the "guest stars."
Summary: 415 words. An M3 fic. Mohinder's toys are weird.
Note: "praarthana" is the Sanskrit word for "prayer" or "requesting one's desires."
Molly finds his shrine on her second day in the apartment. It's not that he's hiding it, but between his father's books and his own, it was hard to find some shelf space for the small statues he brought with him from India. Still, he carved out a tiny niche, complete with a tea candle and a small dish of sugar cubes and almonds that the ever-present New York rats --and his namesake, the lizard-- have not yet gotten to.
"Are these your toys?" she asks him, tiny and pale fingers tracing over Venkateswara's eye-less face. "They're weird!"
"You don't know the half of it, sweetheart," he laughs, taking the black stone figure from her and gently putting it back next to the Shiva lingam he hopes he will never have to explain. Shiva, Venkateswara, Sita and Rama. These are his companions from the old world to the new. His past, his present, and hopefully the bearers of a better future.
By the time Matt moves in with them, barely recovered, he has taught Molly to light the candle --only when he is watching-- to pray for safety to whatever God she chooses, and to touch the sugar to her forehead before letting it melt on her tongue.
"I like this one," she murmurs one evening, peering down into Sita's beautiful, ivory face. He does not tell her of Sita's tragedy, of her pain, knowing that Molly's own must be what draws her to the goddess incarnate.
"Doesn't anyone go to church anymore?" Matt huffs, irritably, from the sofa, though Mohinder has seen him eye the lingam with an all-too curious expression and suspects that he must've picked up on a stray, embarrassed thought of the "please don't let Molly notice it's a phallus" variety.
Two evenings after that, he catches Matt lighting the candle in front of Venkateswara. "I want the Dodgers to win!" he excuses with a mutter, blushing beet red.
"Nonsense. Sri Venkateswara-ji is a Giants fan." Mohinder chuckles, stealing an almond and tossing into the perfect, outraged, 'O' of Matt's mouth.
Mohinder's faith has been tested a thousand times in less than one year. So much so that he's not even sure what he believes beyond the observance of a ritual. Light the candle. Whisper the Gayatri mantra. Listen to his daughter mangle it as she rushes to copy his every action. Taste the sweet nuttiness on Matthew's lips. Snuff the light.
He has carved out a niche. It is complete.
--end--
October 12, 2007