When Nandini woke up on Saturday morning, it was with the knowledge that she had an exciting weekend coming right up. Yes, her mortal enemy and a part-time friend would also be there, accompanying her, but she might shun his irksome, sarcastic remarks and only be accepting of the nice things he could potentially come up with, which, let's face it, had transpired ever so rarely.

An avid lover of gardening and having potted many a plant on the vast balcony she was a proud owner of, she picked her watering can and went about, pouring water in the tub full of carnations before moving to the bed of roses and finally stopping by the peonies. The potted palm needed trimming too, and she was about to head towards the patio closet to fetch the scissors when the phone tucked in her shorts pocket vibrated.

The number flashing on her screen was from the call box at the coded entrance. Picking it up, wondering who had come to meet her on a Saturday morning, she said, "Hello?"

Static crackling from the other side until she heard him loud and clear. "Hey! It's me. Aditya. I am outside your building."

Scowling, she glimpsed at the time on her phone's screen. He was an hour earlier than whatever Piyali had intimated to her. "Oh! Yeah, letting you in." Punching in the code in her phone, she disconnected the call, mentally making a note never to have a third person communicate such important things. "Now, he will come in," she abandoned the watering can, "and he will see that I am not ready," she strode towards the living room, "and he will give me lengthy sermons about some random shit."

Huffing, she turned down the volume of the TV, which was blaring out the latest Bollywood tunes, and went to the door when a knock reverberated. Putting up a bright smile, she opened the door and was not shocked to see his brows furrow after glancing at her once over.

"Please come in, Aditya," she said in an overly saccharine tone.

"Why the fuck are you not ready?"

Groaning at the hostility in his cadence, tugging at her hair in frustration, she motioned for him to enter. "I can't fight at 9 o'clock in the morning. Just come in, alright?"

Pursing his lips, he went in. "Miss Car Murderer, please tell me why on Earth are you not ready?"

Scrunching her nose, she plopped down on the couch, patting the spot next to her, which he took without saying a word. "Piyali told me you would come to pick me up at 10. Not 9."

"Piyali told me to pick you up at 9:30. I agree I came in half an hour earlier than proposed, but don't you think you should've been ready? I don't have all day. So, please get started."

"In a minute."

He watched on as she furrowed her brows at a notepad on the center table. It was a bit tilted, and she wasted no time in straightening it. Discerning that the disorderly notepad bothered her way too much, he snickered. "Never-ending OCD."

Twisting her lips, she said, "Do you want coffee?"

"I just want you to get ready."

Clicking her tongue, wondering why she had to crash with his car out of all the people in the world, she handed the TV remote to him and went towards her room.

He took his sweet time to look around the well-tended apartment. The first time he was here, it was partially dark, and he was too tired to appreciate how spick and span the entire place was. He did come here two other times when she had invited the entire clique over for lunch or dinner, but he never got the opportunity to sit in silence and absorb every little detail. The pictures of her family and friends were hanging on every wall. She had even framed a few photos from their recent outing to the Golden Gate Bridge. In fact, he was surprised to see that one of his pictures had also found its place in her humble abode where he was busy poking her cheeks, and her nose was flared in anger.

Chuckling, he checked his reflection on the squeaky clean surface of the center table. The black-tinted glass didn't have a single scratch on it, and the fruit basket made out of pure crystal was filled with apples, oranges, and grapes. Picking an apple for himself, chomping on it, he went towards the balcony, admiring the variety of multi-colored blossoms growing in the vases, all trimmed to perfection, all watered fresh.

Heading towards the glass railing overlooking the rest of the compound, he glimpsed down ten stories below. The weather was slightly chilly but nonetheless comforting. The sun was shining brightly, and it was the perfect day to spend outdoors. However, with the weekend plans already set, he didn't wish to tamper with it.

He heard the jingling of her anklets behind him before she spoke up, "Shall we leave? I am ready."

"Is your apartment always this clean, or do you clean it just before someone visits?" he asked.

She walked up to him. "And what would I get by impressing someone like that? I am sure being a cleanliness freak is a major no-no for many people out there."

Chortling, he nodded. That was not a completely erroneous statement she had made. People who fixate on cleaning all the time featured at the top of his hate list. Although his mother chided him for leaving wet towels on the bed and forced him to clean his room, he always grumbled and carped. Disorder seemed more natural to him, after all. "Let's go." He whirled towards her and finally took a good look at her, his breath momentarily hitching in his throat.

Clad in a sequined, sheer, pink-colored lehenga with a matching blouse, her curly hair coiled further at the ends, minimal makeup on her dusky-toned face to hide those extra pimples, a bit of kohl under her eyes, a liner over the lids, a light pink color staining her lips—she was looking every bit ethereal and sublime. With each draft of wind, her open hair fluttered, and her golden earrings swayed. She had ditched her glasses and worn lenses, perhaps, for the kohl under her eyes was visible clearly, and he realized he liked her this way. She looked extra cute with her glasses on, but without them, he could see the color of her pupils, and he preferred that.

The set of pink and gold bangles around her wrists jingled with every movement she made, and the golden waistband with pink gemstones embellished in it fit snugly around her form. Her lehenga was low-cut enough to expose her not-so-slender midriff, but the curves suited her well too. When she flashed a bright smile at him before swerving around, he was forced to take a sharp breath because of the backless and sleeveless blouse she was wearing, with two thin straps and a single pink button holding the entire ensemble in place, barely hiding the black mole on her back.

"You look good," he said.

She halted in her steps and wheeled towards him, beaming. "You look good too." She nodded her head at the black kurta he was wearing, patterned with intricate black and golden threadwork, delicately designed to create an elaborate mesh. She went ahead and pinched his arms.

"Ow!" he shrieked, rubbing at the spot, wincing visibly.

"We are both wearing golden." She wagged her finger between the two of them. "Matching, matching!"

He grinned.

She did too.

***

Decked in a red and golden saree, the curly tresses landing near her hips, each of her ten hands holding a weapon or a conch or a lotus, riding a lion, a gentle smile on her face, the sharp ends of the trident piercing the evil demon Mahishasura's chest—Goddess Durga had her idol decorated and revered. As a horde of people brought their palms together to pay their respect and offer their prayers to the goddess, the fragrance of sandalwood emanating from the numerous incense sticks lit up, the priest chanted mantras to mark the commencement of Saptami.

The divinity in the air, the distinct sound of conch shells blowing, the multiple drums beating in a highly synchronous fashion, the chattering of the people, the fragrance of fresh blossoms, the hope in the eyes of every person who had full faith in a higher power above—Nandini couldn't help herself but bring her palms together, close her eyes, and pray too.

Once done, she glanced towards her side and was slightly taken aback to find Aditya praying with his eyes shut, an impish smile on his face, appearing his most charming self to her. The slight stubble on his cheeks trimmed to perfection, the long lashes he boasted of, touching the skin under his eyes, the way his eyelids fluttered erratically, his smooth breathing, the gentle murmurings as he offered his prayers as a small child, and she chuckled quite audibly.

His eyes flew open. "What?" He had to be loud to make himself audible over all the ruckus.

"Nothing. You are..." She chortled. "Nothing."

He shrugged. "I will introduce you to my other friends. Come." He forwarded his palm to her.

She peered at him once before peeping at his outstretched hand. Fumbling for a moment, hesitating, she carefully placed his hand in his, and he clasped her palm tight.

***

Nandini was having a lot of fun, and she was glad she took up on the offer provided by Aditya that day on the beach. Otherwise, she would've never gotten acquainted with his other group of friends, who were Bengali too and whom he met once a year during Durga Puja. In their early thirties, the two married couples were older than both Nandini and Aditya, but it didn't feel like that. They were amiable, cracking jokes, pulling each other's legs, having fun, and despite the fact that her mortal enemy was guffawing right next to her, she didn't hold back.

The entire well-lit hall grabbed her attention amidst all the chatter. At the far end of the hall, opposite the entrance, the large idol of Durga was placed on a rectangular plinth. On either side were the idols of her children, equally well-decorated with jewelry and silken dresses, while behind her, very close to her head, was an extended platform where the small representation of Lord Shiva found its place, the serpent distinctly wrapped around his blue neck and the affable smile on his face.

Three priests were busy at the base of the plinth, offering flowers and fruits to the Lord, blowing the conch shells from time to time. A few professionals were beating the dhak—a traditional membranophone instrument from Bengal, much similar to drums. People were running from one end to the other, bedecked in the best attire they owned, pairing it with expensive pieces of jewelry and accessories, squealing and giggling, blabbering away with their friends and family.

Numerous chairs were placed on the other side to facilitate a seating area, and that faced the idols in front. The area in between was left empty as people mingled with each other, the tiled floor below having an embellished rangoli designed elegantly with a multitude of colors. The buffet was lined along one wall, offering every kind of Bengali delicacy imaginable, while the other wall had a variety of makeshift stores selling artistic products imported from India.

Nandini centered her attention back on the two women—the wives of Aditya's friends. They were telling her that owing to the busy weekday schedule of one and all, Durga Puja couldn't be celebrated on the same auspicious dates when it falls. Instead, the four days' worth of veneration are carried out over the weekend, and that includes a lot of fun, the highlight being the concert on Sunday evening when famous singers from all over India perform live.

Absorbing all the information she was provided with, Nandini turned to her side to tell Aditya that she was having a gala time, but she couldn't find him next to her or anywhere nearby. She asked those two women too, but they didn't know of his whereabouts either. Excusing herself, she let her eyes sweep the massive hall. Striving to find his familiar face in the ocean of unfamiliarity, she vehemently craned her neck, looking this way and that. Finally, giving up, feeling irked since he had left her alone, she strode towards the far end of the hall and plopped herself on one of the chairs facing the idols.

Huffing, muttering curses under her breath, she began tearing the tissue in her hands to bits and pieces when a tap on her shoulder surprised her. Peeping behind, she found Aditya smirking at her. Scowling, looking him once over, she said, "What?"

"Searching for me?"

She rolled her eyes. "Never in a million years."

Sniggering, he perched himself next to her on an adjacent chair. "Got a call from home. Couldn't hear amidst the raucous chants, people talking, drums beating."

Her expression softened. "Oh!"

"I will never leave you alone, Baby Elephant."

She cast a quick glimpse at him. Somehow, his words carried a lot of meaning, a lot of depth, and though she wished to deny it from the bottom of her heart, she could tell this was a friendship meant to be kept for years to come. She wished to reciprocate, too, tell him that though their first encounter was horrible and their eventual meetings always entailed sarcasm from both sides, she wanted things to be normal between them. She hoped to become a very good friend to him, someone he could rely on, someone he could tell his secrets to. She desired to cherish the bond that had sprouted between them all of a sudden, and she wanted him to treasure the same. She wished she could articulate every emotion she was experiencing when sitting in front of the goddess and adjacent to the half-mean, half-bad kickass friend she had made. However, what came out of her mouth was, "Where does this idol come from?"

He could tell this was not what she wanted to say, but he didn't highlight the same. "It is shipped exclusively from Kolkata."

"I have heard they make the idols from a special kind of clay."

"Yes, the idol makers go to brothels to get the clay from their courtyard every year."

Her brows shot up. "A brothel?"

"Yes, it is believed that Mahishasura tried to misbehave with Durga once, but she annihilated him. So, this ritual is a way to pay respect to women who are disrespected by our society. Women who are prejudiced against."

A broad smile graced her lips. "Ah! That's quite wonderful."

He hummed, scrolling through his phone.

Gazing at his side profile, pondering over how his haughty, arrogant attitude changed over time, she said, "Can I ask you something?"

He bit his cheeks. "You just did."

She huffed and fell silent, comprehending that there was no point in talking to him. The moment she assumed he was nice, he did something or the other to ruin her mood and her opinion of him. "An imbecile! Jerk! Nincompoop! Asshat!"

He grinned wide. "Finally!" he shrieked in jubilance. "It was getting boring around here when you were not calling me names or passing snide comments."

Her eyes swelled for a second after realizing that he was again mocking her, teasing her, and she tried to don an angry expression, narrow her eyes, and perhaps scold him too. But then she couldn't keep up the charade she had devised, and before she knew it, she was cackling, holding her stomach. "Do you get bored when I don't pass snide comments?"

He let out a short laugh. "I am getting habituated to someone talking back to me. It's fun."

She shook her head, tittering.

"You were going to ask something."

"Oh!" She licked her lips. "Why are you so touchy about your car? Any special reason?"

A scowl marred his face. "Aren't you touchy about your car? You bought it with your hard-earned money only a few months ago, and you couldn't care less despite a dent in its body. What kind of a person are you?"

"Not materialistic." She flashed a sardonic smile. "Unlike you."

Clenching his jaws, infuriated with her all over again, he said, "It's an Audi Q5. Insanely expensive. What do you expect me to do?"

She clicked her tongue. "Shallow! Do you want to drown in a kiddy pool?"

Glaring at her, he said, "You tell me. Why did you assume I was flirting with you the day we met?"

She pondered for a moment, reflecting on the events of that day. "Oh!" She giggled. "Right when I was walking out of the airport terminal, this guy bumped into me and was ridiculously flirting, suggesting things that were quite gagworthy, asking for my number and everything. That's why when you asked for my number, I assumed—"

"Yeah, got it." He rolled his eyes. "Pointless assumptions, Baby Elephant."

Groaning, she smacked his arm and walked off. He followed her close behind, guffawing to his heart's content.

***

The hall was present in a one-storied edifice, and its roof was made of panes of glass assembled together in rectangles. Nandini could see the sunlight recede as it was nearly evening, and she, along with Aditya's friends, had spent the entire day conversing with each other, eating the fish curries and desserts the buffet had to offer. She had particularly savored the fish cutlet and the mutton chops. Although Aditya had teased her, she disregarded all his comments and continued to enjoy the regal spread.

Tired and exhausted after an entire day of standing on their feet, the two of them collapsed on the nearest available chairs amidst affable silence ensuing between the duo.

"Let's go back," she said after a while.

He checked his watch. "We are supposed to leave after dinner. It's not even 6."

"No, I meant, we will come back after changing into a fresh outfit."

He frowned and gave her a once-over. "Why? What's wrong with your current outfit?"

She facepalmed once. "Totally stupid you are." She tittered. "Right now, what I am wearing is Saptami's dress. Ashtami's puja would start shortly. So, I should go back and wear Ashtami's dress, right? One dress for every day?"

When he was still confused, she went into a full-fledged explanation of how one dress for each day of the Durga Puja used to get her all excited when she was a kid. She reminisced every little detail from her childhood, and he listened to her intently, extremely amused by the constant scrunching of her nose, her incessant pouting, her childlike antics as she flailed her arms to make a point. He observed how her orbs glinted whenever she recalled something entertaining and then launched into her ramblings, leaving him to grin. She loved prattling, and he cherished listening to her babble, something Piyali never did. Nor did he appreciate listening to someone ramble on and on like this. Until now. Until this adorable girl with her plump cheeks waltzed into his life in her pink ensemble.

He didn't even realize when he zoned out of the conversation and was instead focusing on how one lock of her hair brushed against her cheeks each time she bobbed her head and how he yearned to tuck them away. His gaze went to the twinkle of her eyes, and he could tell she had the most gorgeous eyes he had ever seen on anyone.

After she was tired of speaking continuously, she sighed. "So, should we go now?"

He tore his gaze away from her shimmering eyes. "We can, but the veneration is about to commence in a few minutes. Do you still want to go?"

"Uh oh!" Her shoulders slumped. "You should prevent me from chattering too much. Once I start, it is difficult for me to stop."

"Eh!" He shrugged. "That monologue was quite entertaining."

She laughed.

His hand went ahead to tuck the stray strand of her hair behind her ears. "And endearing. Just like you."