The golden shades of dawn slowly painted the morning skies of Mumbai.Warm rays filtered into the room reflecting softly against his body.
Ding..ding..ding…ding
Pahadon ke upar Jungloo ke paar
Dekho kaun apne shehar aaya yaar
Ninja Hattori Apne ghar aaya yaar
Ninja hattori song— his favourite cartoon, rang out in the room startling him from his sleep.
Badi badi aankhen aur muh hai chota sa
Sir pe hai topi aur gaal mota sa
Teji ka iski nahi koi thikana
Kitna hai pakka Dekho iska Nishana
Hattori Hattori Yeh Hain Apna Yaar
Hasta Aur Hasatta Hai Yeh Asli Ninja
He mumbled grooving in half — sleepy state.
He slowly rises, rubbing his eyes and stretching. His eyes still closed and legs entangled in blankets.
“Good morning Hattori! Tumhe pata hai Aaj kya hai? Aree nhi kaise pata hoga maine toh bataya hi nhi.”He laughed shiply.
“ Aaj meri ayu ka birthday hai.”
[Do you know what it is today? No, how would you know, I didn't even tell you. Today is my ayu’s birthday]
“Today I'm going to confess my love to her — to tell her she is more than a best friend to me”, He shyly whispered. His face red and his lips stretched in a goofy smile like a teenager.
He gets up from the bed and walks over to the table lying near the window.He leaned against the window, sunlight slipped through the curtains, tracing light along his muscular body. The table held a half - empty coffee cup, a laptop, a stack of his medical books and a certificate proudly displaying his AIR 10 achievement in NEET UG. And beside that there was a photo frame lying on the table.
He picked up the photo frame.
His lips curved into a soft smile as his fingers brushed over the photo of a girl who was grinning from ear to ear.
“Happy birthday silly, I miss you a lot and I'm coming to surprise you — to solve our misunderstanding, to fix everything.
A lone year escaped from his eyes.
And to confess —
That your budhu has fallen in love with you.”
He was weaving a dream of a future together - wanting to spend his life with her forever.
He slightly cleaned the photo frame and kept it on the table. Without wasting a moment, he began his morning business and quickly went to shower.
Ten minutes later, he steps out of the bathroom.Water droplets still sliding down his neck, towel wrapped low on his torso. He opened his wardrobe to look for his clothes and his gaze stopped at a soft lavender three piece suit — his favourite colour.
And…
Her favourite flower.
Lavender wasn't his favourite colour because of its shade.The colour meant nothing to him until… he learned it was her favorite flower.He loved it because she did, and somehow, her favorites had slowly become his own.
A soft lavender three piece suit wrapped around him with effortless precision, tailored close enough to sharpen his broad frame without looking stiff. The blazer sat perfectly on his shoulders, paired with a fitted waistcoat that added a quiet old money charm. Beneath it, a crisp white shirt and a textured lavender tie completed the look like the final stroke on a painting.
His fingers traced the edges of the suit , his lips slightly curved into a sweet smile. A memory of them surfaced across his eyes dated back to six years ago.
FLASHBACK
In hilly regions of Himachal Pradesh, summers are usually cool, breezy, and wrapped in pine-scented air.
They had come to Himachal for their summer vacation to escape from the heat waves of Mumbai.
“Arsh jaldi chal warna bus chut jayegi.”, sixteen year old Ayesha shouted at him who was carrying two bags — heavy hiking backpacks, still much for a seventeen year boy.
[Arsh, hurry up, or we'll miss the bus!]
“Mandi! Mandi! Kullu! Baitho jaldi!”, The conductor shouted from the bus.
[Come fast quickly]
“Agaya Main!.”He spoke, panting while gasping for breath.
[I came.]
Ayesha held his hand and dragged him into the bus. They both sat down in the corner seats of the bus.
She had worn an oversized leather jacket with brown hoodie beneath added warmth to the chilled air around her. Faded blue jeans brushed against her sneakers as mountain winds tangled softly through her hair.
Her head rested against the bus window while her eyes stayed in the valley memorising everything.The bus had tourists and locals alike; some kids in school uniforms, others heading to work, and some women with bags of vegetables to sell in the city.The faint sound of a classic Kishore Kumar melody hummed through the bus while the hills rolled past outside the window.
ज़िंदगी एक सफ़र है सुहाना
यहाँ कल क्या हो किसने जाना
ज़िंदगी एक सफ़र है सुहाना
यहाँ कल क्या हो किसने जाना
While she was busy getting lost in the beauty outside the window, unaware that someone beside her was already lost in hers.
He had developed a tiny innocent crush on her for which he scolds himself daily.
चाँद-तारों से चलना है आगे
आसमानों से बढ़ना है आगे
अरे, चाँद तारों से चलना है आगे
आसमानों से बढ़ना है आगे
पीछे रह जाएगा ये ज़माना
यहाँ कल क्या हो किसने जाना
For a second, something blue-green flashed between the cedar trees. She almost thought she imagined it until it appeared beneath the valley
“Arsh see there. It's himalayan molan.Hurry, take a picture” She pulled him to show the bird, bringing him out of his thoughts. While she clicked photos of the bird he clicked hers.
Soon they reached the valley of Kullu. Kullu valley doesn’t feel loud at first. It unfolds slowly, like a handwritten letter opened near a window while rain taps outside.
Kullu tea stalls are warm little pockets against cold air.
The smell of Maggie spread in the air, biscuit packets hanging from strings,locals discussing weather and roads. Everything carried comfort and peace which the cities of concrete never hold.
But nothing fascinated her more than the lavender gardens of Kullu Valley. Endless shades of purple stretched beneath the summer sky, swaying gently with the mountain breeze. She ran ahead excitedly between the rows of flowers while he followed behind, pretending to be annoyed even though his eyes never really left her.
She caressed the small petals of lavender.“Do you know?” she said suddenly, plucking a lavender stem carefully.”Lavender is my favourite flower.”
He asked curiously,”Why is it your favourite flower?”
“When voices in my head get loud and life overwhelmed lavender gives me peace and comfort.Historically, lavender was used in herbal remedies and baths for physical healing but for me it heals me emotionally. It heals something broken inside him.” She whispered softly
He stayed quiet absorbing her words.He looked at the tiny flower in her hand before quietly muttering, “Then I guess it became mine too. I promise… the way lavender makes you feel safe, I’ll spend my life protecting you from every pain that dares to reach you.”
Not realizing that one day, those words would haunt his heart.
He quickly clasps his Patek Philippe watch gifted by her.His hair was slightly tousled instead of perfectly combed, giving him that dangerous balance between disciplined and careless. He took his car keys and left for her.
Her college was roughly two kilometres away. As the distance shortened— times felt slower. His heartbeat increased with excitement and nervousness.On his way back, his eyes fell on a small flower shop by the roadside. Without a second thought, he pulled the car over and walked toward it.
His gaze wandered inside the shop and dropped at a bouquet of lavender flowers. A smile formed on his face, he immediately bought the flowers and left.
He wanted to surprise her.
The thought of her reaction filled his mind during the entire drive. To see the expression that would bloom across her face the moment she saw him.Would she hit him? Would she get angry? Or would she hold him in a tight embrace?
Not knowing….
He was about to get the biggest surprise of his life.
He reached the entrance of her college.
His pulse was racing.
Eyes sparkling with joy and love — a big smile formed at his beautiful face.
With a lavender bouquet in his hand — her favourite one and entered inside.
His eyes wandered around in search of her, and the moment his eyes landed on her, the world seemed to pause. She stood there in a lavender saree that matched his attire perfectly, while her hair danced softly with the evening breeze like waves touched by summer.
His steps fast but firm — towards her who was standing between podium.
And then —
“I love you Hamid”
The sun slipped behind the clouds.
His steps faltered — her voice Echoed in his ears.
The love of his life...
Confessing her love —
to someone else.
The bouquet slipped slightly in his hand.He felt as though his heart had leaped out of his chest — His heart shattered silently.
His eyes, once bright with happiness,dimmed , now filled with tears.
And…
He kept smiling
He took his step back.
With each step he was moving backward.
The bouquet in his hand seems
Now —
mocking at him.
His tie suddenly felt too tight, though he knew the ache wasn’t around his neck but buried deep inside his heart.
His throat choked with pain.
He took out a pen and sticky note.
Wrote with trembling hands "FOR YOU SILLY"
And gave the bouquet to a nearby student.
"Give this bouquet to that lavender saree girl". He said and went away.
He drove his car away from the college.
He tugged at his tie impatiently, as though loosening it could somehow ease the ache inside him.
His vision blurry with tears.
Her voice echoed in his ear.
He turned on the music to stop her voice.
Sped up the car to escape — to erase everything.
He reached the nearby hill.
And sat on the ground—
Pulled his legs near to his chest. His Head resting on his knees.
Lightning was flashing in the sky.
And then —
A drop fell on his hand.
With that his dam broke.
A guttural sound of his cry echoed.
His breath was uneven.
Body shivering with — pain.
His tears mixing with rain.
All their memories flashed across his eyes —
Their fights — sharing lunch — laughing at lame jokes — them celebrating his birthday
And then —
The painful memory.
His dream was crushed before it started.
“Why, God, why did you do this to me? I loved her since before I even knew what love meant. She was more than a feeling to me. She was the part of my soul that learned how to pray.”
“वह मेरे लिए इश्क की परिभाषा है,
वह मेरा इश्क नहीं मेरी इबादत है”
[For me she is the definition of love.She isn't just my love, she's my devotion.]
He took out his wallet and inside it was a Polaroid photo of her — playing with dolls.He held the photo carefully, his fingers gently tracing,a faint smile appearing as he remembered the first time he saw her.
SEVENTEEN YEARS AGO
It was an ordinary evening in Sunrise heights
The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm golden hue. The wind gently swept through, uncoiling the leaves from the ground and sending them to dance across the lane. Birds were still arguing with each other like they had unfinished business, flying back to their nests which were on the electric pole near Verma Ji's house.
Children were doing what children always did at that hour — bickering loudly over something that would be forgotten before dinner. One claimed victory, one denied it, and a third one probably crying for the swings.
On one side, the aunties had already formed their evening panchayat. Plastic chairs in a circle with Chai and biscuits on the table — in hushed voices and serious expressions as if they were top-secret agents while discussing the fight took place at Gupta Ji's house two days ago.
Just then —
A truck turned into the society with a loud screech attracting attention. The children fighting earlier , mid stop — stared at the truck in amazement, and ran towards it. Aunties shaking their heads, muttering about the drivers these days.
The truck stopped in front of the empty house at the corner.The house that had been silent for weeks. Maybe months.
Two gleaming cars followed behind it.Someone muttered, almost too casually, “Looks like someone’s finally coming.”
The doors opened and the family of five stepped out of the cars.
Within seconds, attention shifted.
Not to the parents.
Not to the luggage.
But to the little boy— not more than five who stepped out last, adjusting his shirt like he had somewhere more important to be wearing goggles bigger than him, his head high with an attitude like he is on a red carpet.
He glanced around and frowned slightly at the curious gazes of children at him —
like the entire neighbourhood had already disappointed him and muttered under his breath "Uff! Ye bachche."
[Uff! These kids.]
He picked up his luggage and dragged it with his small hands inside the house.
He enters his room,opens his bag, unpacks all his belongings, and organizes them in the wardrobe.
Even as a child, he carried a maturity rare for his age. He disliked relying on others, choosing instead to handle his responsibilities himself and independent to the core. While others of his age struggled to understand emotions, he carried a quiet emotional wisdom that reflected everything he did.
He went to his room's balcony to put out the trash.
And just then, his eyes landed on a house nearby, where a little girl was sitting on the balcony ,completely engrossed in playing with her doll.
"Baby..." he mumbled unconsciously before quickly shaking his head."Weird."
Yet his gaze lingered on her for a little longer. Curious and oddly fascinated, he pulled out his tiny Polaroid camera and clicked a picture of her. The soft whirr of the camera made the girl look up briefly before returning to her doll again.
He stared at the freshly clicked photograph in his hands with the utmost seriousness only a five year old could possess.
“You look cute,” he declared after a moment, “but also silly.”
The rain had stopped.
He put his wallet back and pushed himself to stand.
His head heavy and dizzy.
He was burning with fever.
He drove his car to his apartment and quickly messaged her, “Happy Birthday meri Nakchadi billi.Don't ever let that smile disappear from your face, okay? The world looks softer when you smile”.
And booked the flight ticket to London. He was leaving India to escape from her memories — from everything they had.
As the plane boarded, a lone tear escaped from his eyes “Happy Birthday my silly. I pray that you always stay happy… with Hamid, with your love.”
His voice faltered at the very end, the words breaking quietly in his throat. For a moment, silence wrapped around him like something unbearably heavy.
And…
I love you
His fingers brushed softly against her photo one last time.
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