With the TV remote in one hand and a tray of ice-cubes in another, Chanch sat on the couch in the empty living room with her legs stretched out on the coffee table and switched channels, without pausing to catch a glimpse of the shows. Slowly, I cleared my throat and cracked my knuckles, nabbing her attention; she turned her head in my direction, shared a brief eye-contact with me and turned back to look at the television. "No one's at home. Vaish went to her University because she has to decorate the ground for a University carnival and I don't think she's returning until midnight, because she has to perform at Hilton three times today. And Nash...I don't know where she went", Chanch informed in one stretch, before she stuffed an ice-cube into her mouth and I gawked at her in disbelief. "Are...are you eating ice-cubes?", I questioned, hesitantly. "Do you want some?", Chanch offered, holding out the tray of partially melted ice-cubes and I furrowed my brows, shooting a weird look at her; thank God she wasn't looking at me. "Uhm, no, I'm fine, I guess...thank you", I fumbled and Chanch turned up the TV's volume. "Is the fridge...empty, or something? Do you want me to buy something for you to eat? Would a burger do?", I questioned, utterly worried because Chanch was hogging ice-cubes for breakfast. "The fridge is full; Nash and I just refilled it", Chanch answered back, with her eyes glued to the TV. "Then, why are you eating ice-cubes?", I shot yet another question. "Ice-cubes are my comfort food on a bad day", Chanch answered to the point and dropped the remote on the couch, slumping back. "Chanch, number one – I do not think ice-cube qualifies as 'food'; number two, please stop stuffing ice-cubes, you'll fall sick and number three, why is this a bad day? It is a Saturday, and Saturdays are happy days!", I said cheerfully, but my positive energy failed to penetrate through Chanch's thick skin.

"Do you want a hug?", I offered, and slowly, Chanch shook her head to the sides, looking down at the ice-cube tray on her lap. "Dude, did you just decline a hug offer? That's...", I paused, and thought of a word which would perfectly explain what that meant, but I couldn't. "...that's very weird", eventually, I completed my sentence. "I'm not a hugs-person", Chanch shrugged. "Are you an alien? Who doesn't like hugs? Hugs are...hugs; they're so squishy and warm and comfortable and cute", I explained, hugging myself, and gently swayed to the sides. "But I still don't like hugs", Chanch stubbornly stuck to her statement. "Who said I care? I'm still giving you a hug", I said back, and jumped on the couch, sitting beside Chanch. "Hi, I'm Hug-Monster Dityaa", I said in a child-like manner, and Chanch smiled. "My mom says that everyone deserves to be hugged, because hugs are the glue that holds us in place", I said, and wrapped my arms around Chanch from the side, squeezing her tight. "Back in Surat, whenever I have a bad day, my mom and I would snuggle under a blanket with a bucket of ice-cream and watch movies together", I narrated. "That's so cute", she giggled. "What's wrong, though, boo?", I whispered and rested my chin on her shoulder, with my arms still wound around her. "Everything", Chanch sighed and fidgeted with the ice-cube tray. "Explain", I ordered and let her go. "Boyfriend problems?", I teased. "I don't have a boyfriend, Dityaa", Chanch monotonously said. "I know. To find a boyfriend, you'll have to get out of house and let boys know that you exist. Go out, flip your hair and flaunt that smile; they'll drool over you", I nudged and Chanch smiled. "What's wrong, Chanch!", I demanded. "Where do I start from?", Chanch exhaled dramatically. "You sure watch a lot of Bollywood movies, don't you? Look at the suspense and drama. Just get to the damn point, woman!", I ordered and she laughed.

"I don't know what I'm doing with my life", Chanch straightforwardly said, and I looked on expectantly, waiting for her to say something more. "I was always into art and paintings and...creativity; so, I decided to opt for that as my career, because I was interested in the field and I was greedy to know more. I was convinced that this would be the perfect career for me, and I would be so passionate about what I'd do. But now...I don't even know what I'm doing. Nothing makes sense. I am sick of this life; I wake up in the morning, head straight to University, struggle to complete my assignments, fall asleep at 2 a.m. and the cycle continues. This routine is sickening", Chanch nagged, and stuffed another ice-cube into her mouth. "That reminds me of my A Levels. To my mom, I was always this doctor; she'd say that I was born to be a doctor. Well, Science was my cup of tea. It was somewhat manageable, and so, I decided to take up Science. But then, it wasn't as easy as I thought it would be; it was the toughest thing ever and I couldn't focus. I cried throughout my A Levels, and once I passed out of school, I switched streams. Had I opted for MBBS, I was guaranteed tears for the next six years of my life", I sighed and Chanch giggled. "But again, I don't even know why I picked Commerce; it's not my thing at all, but I had to pick something because I do not know about my interests yet. None of this was planned, trust me. All my life, my mom and I thought I would end up being a doctor and I'd treat patients...but the reality is a world apart from our dreams. I moved to Mumbai with hopes of discovering myself, my interests and potential. But, my nine-to-five job completely drains me down; I do not even have time for myself. It's not happening the way I wanted it to be, and I need to accept it. I went from wanting to be a doctor to a businesswoman, who wants to run a foundation for other women...but the way life has happened to me right now...my dreams and the reality does not make sense, at all. Nothing makes sense, Chanch, and that is life, I believe. See...in your language – life is a canvas, the situations are the colour which forms a picture and nothing's going to make sense until the picture is complete. You're allowed to complain, nag and whine; but you're not allowed to discard the painting, without laying your eyes on the final picture. What if it's beautiful, but you end up throwing it? That's not worth the risk", I shrugged and Chanch listened on, intensely.

"Moreover, Chanch, the best lessons and teachings come from the worst of times and the bad decisions you make. Who do you think makes a strong warrior; the one who has never been hurt or the one who has been badly bruised? Obviously, the one who has been badly bruised! Being a strong human being does not mean that you have never been hurt before. One who has been brutally hurt and knocked down, but never accepted defeat is the strongest one, to me. Pain is good. Downfalls are good. Uncertainties and dilemmas are good. It brings experiences. When you fall, when you get hurt, you'll know where you went wrong, how badly it hurts and that's far better than having it preached. When you tell a child not to touch an iron because it's hot, the child won't understand you completely because he does not know how hot it is. But when a child touches an iron and feels the burn, he would never touch the iron, ever again, because experience impacts harder than words, and stays longer with you. I believe in a life with twists, turns and drama; it's far better than having it straightforward, where you know where you're heading to. Because when you know what's happening, there's absolutely no chance of you making a mistake; when you don't falter, how will you learn? When you don't learn, how will you cope with the ups and downs of life? A straightforward life may make things look sorted right now, but life will not be the same tomorrow. When life feels wrong...it's right and there's nothing to worry about", I said, and Chanch smiled. "All of us are lost, and we're wanderers, looking for lost pieces of ourselves; it's not going to happen all at once, it's a process, ChanChan", I dragged her into a squishy hug, again, from the side. "Has anyone ever told you that you should take up motivational speaking?", Chanch questioned. "Not yet...but oh my God, I think I should give it a shot, don't you think so?", I said, excitedly, and Chanch laughed. "You should, honestly; maybe, you'll find yourself there", Chanch suggested and I smiled.

"Do you feel better?", I asked Chanch, and she nodded her head, slowly. "Or do you need a squishier hug?", I shot another question, and squeezed her like a lemon. "Dityaa!", Chanch exclaimed and laughed hard, attempting to push me away. Finally, I shifted away from her and collapsed back on the couch, dropping my legs on Chanch's lap. "It's almost lunch time, and I'm not in the mood to cook", I whined. "Maggi?", Chanch offered and I wrinkled my nose, shaking my head to the sides vigourously. "Sandwich?", she suggested. "Who eats sandwich for lunch? We'll dine-out. How about Chicken Biryani?!", I sprung up in exhilaration. "I'm veg", Chanch chipped, slowly. "Fuck!", I grunted, throwing my head back. "You won't throw up on my face when I'm eating chicken in front of you, right?", I interrogated. "Of course not!", Chanch strongly stated. "Then, cool; we'll dine out together. You have veg and I'll settle down for chicken", I sketched a plan. "Can we order?", Chanch feebly raised a question. "Chanch, I'll slap you! Get out ass off the couch and get dressed, we're going out, that's final. Dude, even a plant needs sunlight to grow and you're a human being, after all. I'm stunned you haven't rotten yet!", I rolled my eyes and kicked Chanch out of the couch.

♥

Chanch and I spent the whole day aimlessly wandering around Mumbai on foot; we ate at various road-side stalls, took truckloads of pictures, talked without taking a break and laughed until we couldn't breathe. Somehow, I spent every penny of the two-thousand rupees my mom sent, and I was officially broke, with nothing more than a thousand rupees in my purse and ten days ahead of me before my first salary. I had absolutely no idea about how I'd drive life ahead for the next ten days, but I had no choice, either. Still, I didn't regret the outing with Chanch; it was one of the best days in Mumbai!

"Oh my God, I'm going to crash on my bed and sleep until Monday. Today was exhausting...and fun!", Chanch said, as I unlocked the main-door of our apartment with a spare key. "See, outings are not that bad, ChanChan!", I stated and pushed the door open. "Where did the two of you go? Ditchers! Traitors!", Vaish scolded from the kitchen, while fidgeting with the stove. "You ditched me, too, Vaish!", Chanch said back and locked the main-door. "Well, I didn't have a choice, ChanChan", Vaish answered back. "What's cooking?", I walked towards the kitchen and sat up on the marbled counter. "Macaroni with cheese!", Vaish's voice melted. "Oh, Vaish...Dityaa and I wouldn't need it, right Dityaa? I mean, I still haven't digested the veg Biryani", Chanch flashed an evil smile at me. "Oh God, I can still taste the ice-cream and the fresh juices and...", I played along with Chanch. "...and how can we forget about the Pani Puri and Pav Bhaji? God! That was the best! Vaish...trust me, I was stuffed with food but the aroma of the Pav Bhaji made me hungry, all over again. It was soft and buttery and hot...Oh God!", Chanch breathed out. "Bitch, you'll be hot, too, when I keep this hot spoon on your body", Vaish lightly warned, with a smile on her face. "Chanch, you forgot about the banana boat!", I prompted, biting my lower lip. "Oh yes, Vaish! The banana boat was literally an endless supply of ice-cream; chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry with chocolate syrup and almond toppings. There was a cherry on the top, too", Chanch said and Vaish threw a chopped piece of carrot on her. "I hope you get diarrhoea. Both of you!", Vaish spat, and Chanch and I laughed hard. "And I hope you become so fat...so fat...so fat that you wouldn't even be able to move!", Vaish's antiques continued. "Oh God, that's tragic", I gasped, and laughed hysterically. "The two of you are the worst. I don't know you. I unfriend you; go die", Vaish angrily said and shifted her focus back to the stove. "Try harder, Vaish; I know you can do better", Chanch teased, and Vaish did not bother to answer her back. "Vaish does not have a comeback", Chanch continued to pull her leg. "My mom has said not to talk to strangers", Vaish muttered under her breath, mixing the vegetables on a pan. "Oh, we're strangers?", I echoed, in a surprised tone. "I don't even know you", Vaish answered back.

I unzipped my handbag, carefully fished the concert ticket out of my handbag and flashed it at Chanch, whose jaw dropped and touched the floor. "You don't know me?", I repeated with a smile. "I don't", Vaish absently replied, with her focus on the stove. "Look at me and say that again, Vaish", I ordered and held up the concert ticket. "Dityaa and Chanch, I don't kn—", she abruptly fell silent the second she laid her eyes on the ticket concert; she literally froze. "Oh my God", she whispered, blankly, and shifted her gaze between me and the concert ticket. "You're attending Darshan's concert?", Vaish stupidly questioned. "Idiot, this is yours!", I revealed and within nanoseconds, tears built up and settled down on the waterline of her eyes. "You're joking, right?", Vaish asked, shakily. "I know how important Darshan is to you, stupid; why would I play with your emotions? I'm not that heartless. This belongs to you, Vaish!", I held the ticket out to her and tears cascaded down her cheeks. "Dityaa", Vaish called out and covered her mouth, as one of the widest grins illuminated her beautiful face. "B—but I cannot take this. This is extremely sweet of you, but I cannot take this", Vaish declined. "Why? You cried for this last night, didn't you?", I said. "Yes, but that doesn't mean you'll buy it for me. The ticket costs eight-thousand rupees, and that is huge, Dityaa. You just started working", Vaish explained. "This is not my money, it's my mom's; it is a small gift from my mom's side. I randomly told her about you last night and she said that she wants you to attend his concert, if that makes you happy. Trust me, you cannot reject my mom's gift; she'll be very sad", I told Vaish. "Oh God, you told your mom? Dityaa...I don't know what to say...I mean, that's so sweet of her...and you...but...I cannot...", Vaish terribly fumbled in happiness. "You do not have to say anything. Just take this. It's my mom's order, and I have to follow her orders...otherwise, she'll disown me", I joked and the three of us laughed. "Here!", I reached out for Vaish's hand and slammed the ticket on her palm. "Thank you. Thank you so much", Vaish almost cried and looked down at the ticket, through her teary eyes, as though it was a ticket straight to heaven...well, to her, it sure was! "Don't thank me, stupid. Give me a hug", I stretched my arms open and Vaish swallowed me up into a bone-breaking hug. "Chanch, you need to learn from Vaish!", I said, once Vaish and I broke out of the decade-long hug. "Dude, can I talk to your mom? I want to thank her", Vaish said, wiping the tears off her cheek.

We ended up video-calling my mom, because I wanted her to lay her eyes on the happiness that glowed on Vaish's face because of her. "Hi, mommy!", I exclaimed loudly, seconds after my mom answered the call. "Mommy, say hi to my friends; Vaish and Chanch", I introduced, and after a brief moment of struggle, the three of us managed to fit into the frame. "Beautiful girls...hello...okay, they're your roommates?", my mom said, and madly fidgeted with her phone, probably because the rear camera was on, instead of the front camera. "Oh God...this phone is not good...once your Pops comes back, I'll change the phone. It's only showing the wall, where am I?", mom blabbered in irritation and the three of us softly giggled. "Mommy, the rear camera is turned on. Activate the front camera", I instructed. "How do you do that? Listen...shall I keep the phone on the table and stand on the other side...but then how will I see you?", mom was caught up in some serious confusion. "Mom, for the billionth time...tap on the third icon!", I rolled my eyes, and once she followed orders, she managed to switch the cameras. Thankfully. "Perfect!", she smiled, contentedly.

"Okay, say hi to my friends! This one's Chanch and she's Vaish...and look, she has the ticket and she is super happy!", I said in one breath and Vaish flashed the ticket in front of the camera. "Hi, Chanch and Vaish!", my mom waved her hand in front of the camera, and they waved back, with the widest of wide smiles. "Hi, Aunty; thank you so much for paying for the concert ticket!", Vaish thanked. "You're happy, right? That's enough", my mom smiled and I honestly wanted to hug the life out of her that moment. "This is the best thing that has happened to me this year!", Vaish stated with confidence. "Don't say that; many more good things will come your way. Dia told me that you want to be a singer and I'm praying your dream comes true", mom said. "Dia?", Chanch echoed. "That's my nickname", I said. "And do you know the story behind this nickname? I'll tell you", my mom excitedly said. "Mommy, no!", I exclaimed and widened my eyes. "Shut up, Dia! What is it, Aunty?", Vaish sounded curious. "She's had a big mouth since childhood...", even before my mom actually began her narrations, Vaish and Chanch began laughing. "You bitches, I swear I won't spare you", I muttered under my breath. "Dia, don't swear!", my mom snapped. "Then, don't embarrass me!", I snapped back. "They're your family, not strangers; it is okay", my mom casually said back and I sighed. "...so, when she was eight years old, she told her cousin brother that she'll defeat him in wrestling. Dia used to watch a lot of Hindi serials with her grandma, so she said a dialogue from a serial she watched in front of our whole family. 'If I don't defeat you in wrestling, then change my name!'. Now, her cousin brother was a sumo and Dityaa was a pencil...you know what happened next, right?", my mom exhaled. "Dityaa lost and you changed her name to Dia?", Chanch guessed and my mom nodded her head in agreement. Chanch and Vaish laughed hard with my mom, while I shot death stares at everyone. "There was another time when...", my mom carried on, and I figured out that it was going to be one long evening with my mom and her box of hysterical and warming stories.

And it sure was one perfect weekend night!