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Nandini

An SUV was parked along the side of the road, its lights dipped as it cast a warm amber glow into the distance. Seated cross-legged on its bonnet, I shuffled the large frozen tub into the crevice of my lap, deftly slipped a finger under the pink seal and cracked it open. As the pink lid came off, a sharp, icy fragrance escaped, mingling with the salt-kissed breeze. My companion clapped her hands in delight, the sound slightly muffled by the distant roar of the ocean.

We were far from the water's edge, observing the waves from a safe distance. The ocean appeared to stretch infinitely, its dark expanse shimmering under the moonlight. From that vantage point, it was a breathtaking spectacle of nature's power and beauty... absolutely spectacular to witness from this distance but incredibly unforgiving in its powers up close.

A lot like lovers are.

Brushing my free-flowing hair behind my ear, I eyed my companion whose backdrop was the shore, "Thank you for picking me up," I shifted my gaze to the sea. "I didn't know whom else to call."

Navya's eyes sparkled with familiarity as she tossed her dupatta over her shoulder in an exaggerated, old-school fashion, a gesture that instantly brought back memories of their school days. "Are you crazy, Nandini? Friends hote kis liye?" she quipped, her voice brimming with playful warmth.

Her features were remarkably similar to the schoolgirl I remembered, though now Navya's smile was framed by braces that had once been absent.

My pink plastic spoon dipped into the slab of cream, punctuating the night's stillness, as Navya paused, eyeing the unopened tub between us feeling irrationally guilty. "Sorry... it's out of habit and –"

"Hey! Don't be," I interrupted with a pressed grin. "I actually might have picked up on a few Hindi phrases here and there."

"Really?" Navya's eyes widened in mock astonishment. "Wow, I tried for a whole year and couldn't teach you. I should fall at their feet and praise them to the heavens!"

I chuckled, the sound rich with a mixture of nostalgia and genuine amusement, a sound I had almost forgotten I could make. It had been too long since I'd felt this lighthearted, and much of the credit for my uplifted mood went to the unexpected reconnection.

Approximately forty minutes ago, we had flagged down a makeshift icecream cart by the Bay. I had been contemplating simple Cornetto cones – one for each of us, but Navya, in her eccentric enthusiasm, had other plans, and had posed the order for a tub of icecream. It shocked the vendor, who did not have the budget to stock on such enormous quantities. He labelled us 'pagal' by the end of the haggling sessions and hurried from our vicinity, pushing his creaky cart as fast as he possibly could.

We had broken into fits of laughter as our spontaneous mission had turned into a delightful adventure. We had waded through a string of bustling ice cream carts, each offering a variety of flavors and options, but none quite met our cravings. Our quest had been to find a tub that weighed at least 750 grams. Resolute in our determination, we joked that if we didn't find the perfect tub, we would spend all night searching for it... no problem!

After what felt like an eternity of digging through their stashes and negotiating with various vendors, we had finally stumbled upon a cart that had exactly what we were looking for: a one-kilogram tub of butterscotch ice cream, of which we were each taking a lumpful, moaning at its taste.

In the past hour, we had shared updates about our careers and the reasons behind my visit to Mumbai, skirting around the deeper, more personal topics. I had not wanted to appear pathetically immersed in a past relationship that ended several years ago, but I felt at home when she avoided those questions herself... as if she understood, without me explaining my side.

It did not feel like we were two friends meeting after over half a decade, no. It was as if we had caught up right where we last left off, like the missing pieces of my puzzle were in other people. Multiple people. In trying to escape my own romantic feelings, I had overlooked something far more precious – the genuine, unconditional support and joy that a platonic bond can offer. The bittersweetness in my chest for putting distance between the two of us over the last few years chewed on itself.

As my laughter faded, a more contemplative silence settled over us. "A lot has changed, maybe I'll tell you another time." The undertone of my words carried sorrow, but my facial features masked it so well that it had been unrecognisable to a stranger.

To a stranger, not an estranged friend.

Navya's eyes addressed me with soft concern as I intricately scraped the butterscotch trails in the tub, immersed in the task. "Not a lot, you're still a caramel person!" She shrugged.

My heart inexplicably warmed at the memory. "You remember?" I gaped, thoroughly taken aback that anyone... anyone would remember such intricate details about me.

She nudged me playfully with an elbow and I swayed with the impact, licking her spoon clean before burrowing it a second time. "Arrey! I didn't call you my best friend aise hi! Hum sab jaante hai tumhaare baare mein."

"Accha?" I gulped the blob of ice that fell in my mouth and then continued, "So you know why I called you out of the blue?"

"Of course! Our families would never let us sneak out at night like this. We spent so many years obeying them, and now... we finally get to break those rules! I know that feeling..." Her soft gaze fell on me again.

Within it, I realised how much we had grown up... without each other. We used to be children walking hand in hand gossiping about boys, the latest happenings in school or stressing about tests, none of which were real worries in the grand scheme of things; presently, we were adults basking under moonlight enjoying a frozen treat past midnight, while burying our pains within us.

Yet, regardless of the time that had passed and the people we had become, a part of us always yearned for the same things – the simple joys in life.

I stared down at the tub of ice cream, the spoon resting idly in my hand. The cold, sweet treat seemed mirrored the chill of my own uncertainty. "Sometimes," I began, my voice barely more than a whisper, "I wonder if everything – every life decision, and choice I made – was a mistake."

Navya's gaze softened, her eyes filled with a mix of concern and understanding. I could feel the intensity of my own emotions rising, and the tension of the moment made it hard to breathe.

"I let one person dictate so many of my choices," I continued, the words spilling out in a rush. "I pushed away friends who might have supported me and opportunities that could have brought me happiness, and... and even those that did choose me, I brought them down with me." I turned to her in horrible disbelief. "How could I do that Navya?"

Her hand gently covered mine, the warmth of her touch starkly contrasting with the icy fear that gripped my heart. "You're thinking about it all wrong. You made no mistakes."

I tried to hold back a sardonic chuckle, my tears threatening to break free as I dabbed at the corners of my eyes. "You're just saying that because you're my friend, and it hurts to see me like this."

Navya shook her head, her eyes filling with hearty reassurance. "No, these choices you're talking about—they're not just random decisions," she said, her voice soothing to my ears. "You believe in your Aiyappa, right?" I nodded, my gaze dropping to the ground. "Our lives are shaped by a force beyond us, something we call God. It might feel like we're making choices, but often, we're following a pre-defined path... one that's already been written for us."

How could my Aiyappa, the very deity I had always looked up to for guidance and comfort, allow such relentless suffering to afflict me over and over again? If Navya's theory was right, my pain was being orchestrated by a higher power, a cruel joke that took away the people I loved one by one, leaving me to face a void of loneliness. Why would He let me suffer so much despite knowing how much those people meant to me?

Navya paused, letting me sink her words in. "And when the right time comes, you'll understand why everything happened the way it did. It might not make sense now, but one day, it will. Trust me on that," As she touched her heart, I caught a glint of a gold chain layered under her Matarani locket, a symbol of her own journey.

She was married.

How did I not know that?

My chin flicked in her direction, flooding my tongue with a spoonful of the dessert. "So tell me about him..." While she appeared confused, she mindlessly touched her nuptial chain and twirled it between her fingers before registering my question. What followed was a warm hue of pink that spread across her cheeks, as she looked away.

"There's nothing much to tell... we..."

Her voice trailed off, and I could feel a swell of emotion rising in my chest. So it was true, my best friend from school – the same age as me – was living a life I had always longed for.

"You fell in love, right?" I asked, my voice trembling with sincerity. Navya's face lit up with unfiltered joy, a look so pure and radiant that I felt a pang of bittersweet happiness for her. I clutched her forearm that lay parallel to her chest, slipping her hand into mine in a soft, encouraging clasp. "That's so wonderful; I am so happy for you, Navya!" She could not control her blush, which made her appear more endearing.

Seeing Navya finally find someone who cherished her was a personal victory. She had spent so much of her school life yearning for love and appreciation, and to know she had succeeded in that was deeply moving. I bit my lip to keep from sobbing, feeling an overwhelming mix of joy for her and sadness for my own unfulfilled dreams. Quickly bombarded by a threatening thought, I added, "It's not Harshad, na?"

Navya's reaction was immediate and animated. "What? NO! No, haaye Matarani, thinking about it makes me cringe so bad! Yuck!"

I giggled, letting a tear run but brushing it away before she noticed. "It happens..."

"What about you, Nandini? Anyone?" Her body language suggested that she had not intended to touch on that topic, yet with a tinge of hope and desperation for a new character in my life, she met my eyes, wanting a positive answer.

Perhaps because he had already moved on.

And it just so happened that beyond her, on the footpath leading to the beach, the departing silhouttes of two young men looming in the distance appeared familiar. 

⭒⭒⭒

Two weeks later...

Mukti

SPACE College's orientation was happening in full swing, the entire campus resembling a carnival in terms of its disco lights, indie music, professional photography booths every nook and corner and unlimited snack counters.

Despite my initial apprehensions to associate myself with anything to do with the Malhotras, I flew in to Mumbai with the Malhotras to support Rishabh and his dreams of attending college. It had been a dream come true for him, and the boy could not be more in awe with the ambience and social settings such an institution exposed him to!

Abhimanyu, his Chacha and Chachi were presently on Rishabh's left, witnessing one of the entertaining performances of the evening from the centre-stage. Nandini and I were to his right, taping the sequence on our mobiles.

Nandini's phone promptly went to her lap as she leaned forward, facing her left.

"Amma, I'll just use the bathroom and come." Her Chachi offered to come along with her but when Nandini refused, suggesting that they would be disturbing several people in their aisle, I promptly stood up to accompany her. She shook her head, smiling, "It's nothing, I won't be long..."

I put her hand in mine and directed her out with me, halting her statement half-way through.

We shimmied through the crowd and headed to the main entrance to the college. Moving through a gated security portal that scanned us and our belongings, we entered the empty building and let go of each other's hands naturally. As we stood in the calm, I caught sight of an electric guitar propped against a wall, a silent invitation that stirred a deep nostalgic ache within me. Once upon a time, I had spent countless hours with that instrument.

I glanced at Nandini, who was watching me with a faint, understanding smile.

When I approached the guitar, my fingers yearned to touch the strings. I held it with immense respect in a cradled manner, just the way I had practiced to, and stroked the strings. The gentle, melancholic melody that emerged filled the space with a bittersweet harmony. Each note was a thread connecting me to my past, to dreams and passions I had left behind.

As I played, I became lost in the melodies, the rest of the world fading into the background. The sound of a bathroom door in the distance creaking open barely registered in my brain until footsteps approached, drawing me out of my reverie. My fingers faltered, and I glanced up, drawn out of my musical trance.

Several metres away, at an arch a few doors away from the corridor that Nandini disappeared into, a tall fully-suited man emerged, and adjusted his headpiece with an air of practiced ease. He carried an acoustic guitar with him, holding it like a cherished artifact. A chair was drawn out for him as if he was royalty. He flung around, sitting at the edge.

My breath caught in my throat as I took in the sight. The man before me was unmistakably familiar, yet transformed. His beard was fuller, his jawline sharper—he had grown into a man of distinction. His confident stance and intense focus were reminiscent of the boy I had once known, but now he seemed so much more. The years had sculpted him into someone I couldn't identify, yet somehow connected to...

An overwhelming surge of emotions threatened to drown me. Aching with a mix of longing and apprehension, I watched as he stood up, setting his guitar down and adjusting his mic. His voice, laced with the arrogance I remembered, echoed through the corridor, "Okay na?"

He turned slowly, and as his eyes met mine, the disbelief in his gaze mirrored my own. It was as if time had folded in on itself, revealing a past that had seemed so distant now brought abruptly into the present.

"Bhai!" I called out, my voice trembling with a raw, unfiltered longing that no words could ever fully capture.

It was him. It was Manik, he had come to SPACE College to perform for the college.

Alone, without the rest of the group.

The years of separation collapsed in that one moment, reminding me of everything I had lost. My legs moved almost instinctively, driven by an impulse to close the gap between us.

Pride mingled with sorrow, and joy was tinted with regret on all the missed milestones and unspoken words that remained abandoned... just as we were.

I wanted to embrace him, to discuss those shared secrets we swore to take to our graves with us, to experience endless laughter and banter just like old times and most of all... to marvel at the man he had become, while I was absent from his life.

How had he grown so much?

He followed, his shock and confusion palpable as he appeared almost carried away by a brotherly sentiment that transpired all rationality. Arms extended to his sides, ready to catch me in a bone-crushing hug upon first contact. A mix of denial and unbounded affection was evident in his eyes, as if blinking itself would wipe the vision away forever. It reflected a bond of shared blood and memories too strong to ignore, too deep-rooted to separate.

Just as we were on the brink of closing the gap between us, a tiny, feminine figure emerged at a corridor behind him, halting me in my steps.

Nandini.

Her presence was a jolt of ice, snapping me out of my mindless pursuit. The surge of joy that had carried me forward dissipated instantly, and was replaced by a sudden, cold weight of numbness. Caught between the overwhelming urge to bridge the distance with Manik and the crushing reality of a gut-wrenching past that Nandini's arrival symbolised, I froze.

Manik's face, once open with a hint of hopefulness, hardened into an expression I hardly recognised. The brotherly affection he seemed to exude was nowhere to be found, as cold formality shielded his hostile outwardly apparance. An invisible barrier kept him from looking over his shoulder... at the girl who loved him once upon a time... at the girl whose heart he broke.

At the girl his sister chose over him.

That his flesh and blood chose over him.

Over him.

Instead of him.

Tension radiated from Manik as he struggled to maintain control. Am oppressive force seemed to distort the air around him. He tried to maintain his composure, but his body language betrayed him, revealing a volatile mix of emotions that he could hardly name, let alone control. His face, that was earlier a mask of confidence and command, was now etched with raw pain and barely concealed anger, as the ground shifted beneath his feet.

Without warning, he spun on his heel and stormed through the archway, his movements sharp and decisive as the shadows swallowed him, retreating him into darkness... a zone he sought refuge in, when confronting his inner turmoils.

My heart weighed down with a profound heaviness, realising a parallel in Nandini's involuntary departure at that same instant some metres behind him. The same profound ache crippled both of them. My brother's bruised pride faltered under the weights of rejection, while Nandini was ensnared by the weight of her romantic failures, chained to the ghosts of her past.

The damage they had caused, both directly and indirectly, rippled through everyone around them, cocooning their sufferings in a web.

Because pain did not isolate and choose its victims, it spreads its reach, affecting every life it touches.

Every heart that once held love.

⭒⭒⭒

Manik

The stage lights burned on my skin, scorching my mind. I adjusted the microphone on my headpiece, my fingers damp with sweat. The crowd's roar was a distant, muffled buzz compared to the thundering storm of thoughts in my head.

"Manik, you okay?" one of my band members asked, furrowing with concern at my deep, rugged breaths that reverberated in their sound unit.

I snapped back, channeling the simmering frustration beneath into something fruitful, "Yeah, I'm fine. Just... let's get this over with." My voice was sharper than intended, a desperate attempt to mask the storm raging inside me.

As we started the set, my focus slipped like sand between fingers. Stage beams were blinding. The lyrics stumbled from my lips in a strained, uneven rhythm... almost unaware of their source. Halfway through the song, my eyes magically found hers in the crowd. She was right there. In between thousands of faces, she had stood out to me, how?

Above all, she had been more beautiful than I had last imagined her to be.

My lungs collapsed under the weight of my own anxiety, detesting the cruel twist of fate that brought her to me at that juncture.

Breaths cut in and out, precisely at the instrumental piece when everything else blurred out... until it was just her and me.

Around me, the crowd's energy was palpable. Some girls who had heard of my name and surrounding reputation from my school days began swooning and chanting my name, cheering me on. Even amidst their voices, my attempts to compartmentalise my emotions were failing before my eyes miserably as the utter lack of control – of myself, over myself – ridiculed me with open arms.

My big break into music was at stake – I could not afford to fuck this up. I closed my eyes, methodically stroking some strings to a rehearsed tune while humming. Grounding myself. My bandmates exchanged worried glances as my voice cracked and wavered into the vocals once again, this time not as Manik Malhotra... but Manik... a deeply wounded Manik. I was not performing, I was expressing.

Stripped bare, vulnerable and exposed on stage.

Streams of tears basked my face at the surreal loss of an integral part of me... my identity... that left me the moment I had to let go for her.

As the final notes faded, the audience's applause had been thunderous. Their appreciation was a bittersweet balm to my wounded ego. With one longing glance, I sought her steeling gaze that was muddled with tears.

Tears that mirrored mine.

Guilt-stricken, I looked out at the general crowd, my heart pounding. "Thank you," I said, bowing with a steadier tone. "It's been a pleasure to play for you tonight."

Backstage, my band members gathered around me; their faces were a mix of pride and concern as their stress from the performance seemed to lift in its enthralling reception. "It's a huge WIN, you guys!" said one of the girls. I placed my guitar over my guitar bag and ran my fingers in my hair, clutching the roots hastily.

I needed to see her.

Now.

Sprinting out of backstage, I descended the series of stairs that led to the outdoor gathering and followed a petite girl who was running towards the campus building. I quickly followed, swiping my cheeks roughly. Inside the building, lights turned on as the sensors triggered. Her footwear were slamming on some tiles above, so I recklessly took the staircases.

Leading to the terrace, that was left ajar.

Just like old times.

I heaved at the grilled door with my hands on my knees, feeling them buckle at the sight of her back to me, as she had gravitated towards the edge of the wall.

"Why did you stumble today?" came her soothing voice, that characteristically drew me seven years back in time. As if that wasn't sufficient on its own, she continued in the same composed tone, "The Manik Malhotra I heard about never let his music sway for anything, then..."

"The Manik Malhotra you heard about, or the one you knew?" I enquired to the air enveloping us, acknowledging that I was several metres away from her physically, but on any other level, I existed on a plane parallel to hers... where our worlds could collide, but never intersect.

⭒

They finally MET!

God, each character and their interaction is like a new layer of the onion unravelling! Nandini watching Mukti and Manik holding back was just painful to type!

Why is Nandini so casual about meeting Manik? Is she tired of caring, or is she pretending, or is it something else altogether?

Please don't forget to vote, comment and share <3