╰┈➤ Manjiri's POV

“Gun guna rahe hai bhavre

khil rahi hai kali kali…”

I hummed the soft tune as I helped my mom pack our lunch boxes. Listening to old Bollywood music- my favourite part of the mornings. Worst part- having to wake up so early.

“Manjiri, udya baba yenar aahet. Lakshat aahe na?”

(Manjiri, Your dad is coming tomorrow. You remember, right?)

“Ho Aai, don’t worry. I'll get some fresh spinach and paneer while coming back today. We’ll make his favourite palak paneer for lunch tomorrow,” I said as I packed my lunch box.

“And I'll also get the pink roses that Baba likes to put in the vase. Also, should I get some gajras for you, huh?” I teasingly bumped my shoulder into hers and wriggled my eyebrows but stopped as she gave me a stern look.

“Don't tease me, I'm your mother,” she said in her no nonsense tone.

One thing about her- she is a principal at a highschool. So she carries a strict aura at all times, sometimes at home too.

“Okay sorry, anything else?”

“No, just wake Abhi up before going to your room to get ready,” she said as she got busy with other work.

I kept our tiffin bags properly in the living room and went to Dada’s room.

I was welcomed with a pile of newspapers near the entrance. Next to the door was his study table and a chair which was carrying loads of used clothes that should be….. probably in a laundry bag.

Everything was scattered in his room. The bedsheet was half undone, a pillow was lying on the floor and in the centre of the bed was my brother- sleeping like a log.

How messy!

“Dada! Dada!” I called out twice.

“Abhi Dada!” A little louder this time.

“Wake up, you sloth,” he didn't move a bit.

Having no option left, I used that one trick that always worked.

“Abhijeet Arvind Deshmukh!” I said, in a little hoarse voice and the next instant, he was wide awake and a bit terrified.

Reason? Our Baba only called him by his full name when he was being confronted about something and those were the rare occasions where you’d actually see Abhijeet Deshmukh being a scared cat.

I couldn't contain my laughter at how he woke up with a jerk.

“Baba? Where is Baba? Did he- did he come earlier than he said?” he asked, almost panting. I leaned against the wall in his room, laughing uncontrollably.

When he realised what I did, he threw a pillow at me.

“Ow! Aai, Dada is hitting me,” I winced, even though it didn't hurt at all.

“Abhi.” Aai's stern voice came from her room.

He just rolled his eyes and sat down on the bed with a huff.

“Why did you have to disturb me just now? I was having such a nice dream….” I almost laughed at his dreamy sigh.

“Why? Were you marrying Madhuri Dixit in your dream?” I picked up the books and magazines lying on the floor and kept them on the desk, properly.

“Shut up, and no. I was- forget it,” he got up, helping me pick up the rest of the bundles of newspapers.

“Tell na,” I insisted but it didn't work. He was always good at keeping secrets- he would never spill any. That's why mine were always safe with him. Like the milk spill incident.

“Clean your room. Baba is coming tomorrow,” I said, before leaving to get ready for school.

──── ୨୧ ────

When Megha and I finally got down at the Churchgate station, she said, “Listen, I'll just go get my pass renewed. Just wait here.”

I waited for her near the staircase. Watching all these people- rushing for their lives every single day made me wonder- is it really worth it? But well, they say that if you want to survive in this world, you have to rush. Fair enough I guess.

I was busy admiring the big clock at the station like it was the most beautiful thing in the world while waiting for my friend when I noticed someone staring at me.

I glanced down and I saw him- the guy who returned my tiffin box the day before yesterday. He stood near the ticket counter, four feet away from me with that grin he always had.

Well, this wasn't the first time I had noticed him. I've seen him- watching me….for a week now. At first I had convinced myself that he was just one of those creeps that you sometimes run into but the other day when our eyes met- his gaze felt anything but creepy or shady. And that left me amused.

Whatever, don't pay attention.

I averted my gaze to the big weighing machine near the platform. But then, I noticed he had taken two steps towards me.

Don't look. Don't look. Don't look.

That's it. Now I was completely focused on him. Meanwhile, he- with his famous grin- waved at me.

“Let's go. I got the pass,” it was Megha. Thank god.

Without sparing him a glance, I walked out of the station.

──── ୨୧ ────

At evening

I was waiting for Megha at the station. But then- a woody and earthy scent took over my senses. I felt a presence next to me.

It was him, again.

“Hello. Pehchana?”

(Remember me?)

And I did what I thought was the best thing to do- I shook my head.

“I returned your tiffin box the other day, ab yaad aaya?”

(Now do you remember?)

“Oh yes, wo aap hi the,” I said, in the fakest possible sweet tone.

He helped me and I’ve thanked him already- but how does that justify him staring at me? I have to keep my distance.

“Main Rahul, naam toh suna hoga?”

Being a die-hard SRK and Rahul Dravid fan, my head snapped towards him so fast, I almost broke my neck. I always had a tiny little thing for that name. But then I decided to play it cool.

“Nahi suna,” saying that, I walked away while he stood there dumbfounded.

Thankfully, Megha arrived just on time. We sat down on the vacant bench on the platform. The train was late.

“Manjiri, your bindi has fallen I guess. Do you want another one?” she asked and before she even finished her sentence, she had already fetched out the small packet of bindi from her bag.

“Um thanks but I'm good,” I politely declined.

“Wear it na, it suits you,” she said and before I could respond, I heard another voice.

“Laga lijiye na,” it was him- Rahul, standing next to the bench.

(Please wear it.)

“Excuse me?”

“Aap jab bindi lagati hai tab aisa lagta hai ki duniya ki sabse khoobsurat ladki samne aa gayi ho.”

(Translation: When you put a bindi on, it seems like the world’s prettiest girl has appeared in front of me.)

I processed his words for a second and then-

“Hello! Kya problem hai tumhara? Itne dino se dekh rahi hu, tum mujhe hi dekhte rehte ho. Parso help ki, maine thank you bola- bas baat khatam. Par tum toh peeche hi pad gaye. Kal bhi mujhe dekh ke smile kiye jaa rahe the. Aaj subha wave kar rahe the jaise hum dost ho aur ab toh hadd kar di. Koi manners hai ya nahi? Ya main sikhau?”

Half the crowd was now looking at us. And he looked at me like he hadn't expected to get a scolding. When he registered my words he said, “Aap toh local train kya, rajdhani express se bhi fast baat karti hai.”

(You talk faster than the rajdhani express)

How dare he?

“Tum-” my words were cut off by the loud honk of the train.

“Manjiri, behes mat kar. The train is here, let's go,” Megha said, practically dragging me with her.

Throwing a last glare at him, we boarded the train.

──── ୨୧ ────

Megha and I were looking for the fresh pink roses. All the while, I kept ranting about that train guy- Rahul.

“I swear Megha, if the train hadn't arrived, I would've given him a nice scolding,” I said, picking up some roses and then keeping them back. I picked up another bunch of flowers that seemed better than the previous ones.

“I'll take these,” I reached out for my wallet from my bag but it wasn't there. I searched again and didn't find it.

Panic rushed through my veins.

“What happened?” Megha asked.

“My wallet, I can't find it.”

“Thik se dekh, bag mein hi hoga,” she said.

(Look properly, it must be in the bag only.)

“Nahi hai, Megha,” I was on the verge of crying. That wallet- it was very very dear to me. Not because of the amount of money it had but because it was my late Grandma's wallet.

“You had the wallet in your hand before we boarded the train,” Megha said.

Oh yes. That means….I might've forgotten my wallet on that bench. Just great!

“Megha,” it came out as a mere whisper as I was about to cry.

“Suniye,” came the now-familiar voice from my right.

Unbelievable!

“Tum phirse aa gaye? Peecha kar rahe ho mera? Kya problem hai tumhari?” I know I was taking out all my frustration on him- but he deserved it for stalking me.

(You came again? Are you following me? What's your problem)

“Aap ye dhund rahi hai na?” he asked in a very calm and composed voice, holding my wallet in his hand.

(You are looking for this, right?)

I released the breath I had been holding since God knows when and took the wallet from his hand.

“You forgot this on the bench. And don't worry, I’m not stalking you. Wallet is an important thing, otherwise I wouldn't have bothered to leave the train for you….or maybe I would have,” he said, his voice a little playful.

“Uh- I thought- anyway, thanks. For returning the wallet,” I said, in a softer tone.

“Aap teacher hai?”

(Are you a teacher?)

“How do you know? Did you see the school’s ID in my wallet?” The annoyed tone was back.

“Wo aap har baat pe lecture dena shuru kar deti hai na, toh maine guess kar liya. Aur kisi ka wallet jo ek personal cheez hoti hai usse dekhna nahi chahiye itne manners hai mujhme,” he said, his voice still very composed.

(You start lecturing about anything, so I guessed. And I have the manners to not see someone’s wallet which is a personal thing.)

I felt terrible for questioning his manners earlier when he had only helped me- not once but twice.

“Sorry and thanks, again,” I mumbled.

“It's fine. And you're welcome. Anyway, can I say something if you promise to not get mad at me?”

I raised my eyebrows in question.

He pulled out a small, delicate and fresh white rose which had tiny droplets of water on it from his back- he must’ve been hiding it for so long.

He held it in front of me and I instinctively took the flower.

“Aap sachme bindi mein bohot khubsurat lagti hai,” giving me that signature grin, he left- just like that.

(You really look beautiful in a bindi.)

──── ୨୧ ────

At home

Aai was applying coconut oil to Dada’s hair, doing a nice ‘champi’ while he did a champi on my hair.

It was our little Saturday night ritual.

“Have you both cleaned your rooms?” Aai asked.

“My room is always clean,” I said, proudly.

“My room is always clean,” Dada mimicked me, making me groan. And to irritate me further, he pulled my hair.

“Ouch, Aai!” I winced.

Aai slightly hit his shoulder.

“I'll tell Baba when he comes tomorrow.”

“How old are you? 6?” He teased me.

“No. And you are 27 but you are still terrified of Baba,” it was my turn to tease him now.

“Shut up.” He said, like an angry baby, making both me and Aai laugh.

“But seriously Abhi, you are 27 now. Lagna kadhi karnar aahes?”

(When will you get married?)

“Aai, don't start now please,” He groaned. She just rolled her eyes in response- we were used to his answer.

“Okay, go to your rooms. And wake up early tomorrow. Especially you- Abhi. You have to pick your father up from the station,” Aai said.

“Yes, I remember. Don't worry. Good night Aai.”

Aai went back to her room, leaving the two of us alone.

Abhi Dada was weirdly silent.

“Are you okay? Is anything wrong?” I asked. He gave me an assuring smile.

“I'll tell you, but not right now,” he said, patting my head.

“You can tell me everything, you know that right?” I side-hugged him.

“Yes I know. Now go, sleep well. Good night, Manjiri,” he smiled before going back to his room.

I lay down in my bed with my eyes closed- thinking about my day.

School, the stubborn kids, boring chapters that I had to teach anyway, the station, the crowd and him-

wait what?

That smile- that wide playful grin danced in front of my eyes and somehow- I couldn't stop thinking about it.

I glanced at the dresser in my room, the white rose lay there- and I couldn't stop thinking about the one who gave it to me.

- ⋆˚࿔ Riii𝜗𝜚˚⋆