Memories haunted him. Nightmares kept him awake at night.

Karan’s energies were expended on one obsession. What if he was not Vikramaditya’s son? If he had some unknown genes? It bothered him that he bore little or no resemblance to Vikramaditya.

Yet, Anita had always told him how father and son were so alike -- both fanatically meticulous about maintaining the car; they loved the same foods, hated the exact same vegetables; the irritating habit of checking and re-checking the locks several times before leaving the house. Most important -- when they argued -- they were dispassionately logical, incapable of seeing the other person’s point of view; even their voices sounded similar, many people had confused one for the other over the phone.

Karan dug through the contents of Lila’s trunks several times over in the hope of finding some evidence, any evidence, that he was Vikramaditya’s son. He ransacked every closet and cupboard in the house in a bid to find the proof of his parentage.

Maternity is a matter of fact; paternity is a matter of opinion -- he was reminded of one of his public speaking contests from the Xavier days. Only a DNA test could have confirmed his paternity. That opportunity had been lost forever.