Third Person PoV

----

25th March'24

The library garden had never looked more vibrant. Usually a place of quiet study and whispered conversations, it had transformed into a lively canvas of colors and laughter as the students celebrated Holi.

The usually serene atmosphere was now filled with the sounds of joy, music, and the splashing of water mixed with bright hues.

The garden, with its neatly trimmed hedges and blooming flowers, was now dotted with bursts of color. Students ran through the winding pathways, their white clothes now a medley of reds, blues, greens, and yellows.

The air was thick with the scent of gulal, the powdered colors that hung like a mist, swirling around in the breeze before settling on every surface.

Even the statues and benches weren't spared, each now adorned with streaks of color, blending in with the festive spirit.

Groups of students chased each other, their laughter ringing out across the garden. Some had filled buckets with colored water, eagerly waiting to douse their friends, while others sneaked up with handfuls of powder, ready to smear it across unsuspecting faces.

Water balloons flew through the air, bursting upon impact, sending splashes of color in all directions. Every corner of the garden was alive with activity, a perfect blend of chaos and camaraderie.

Near the library entrance, a few students had set up a makeshift DJ booth, and lively music pumped through the speakers. The infectious beats of traditional Holi songs mixed with the latest Bollywood tracks, creating an irresistible atmosphere that had everyone dancing.

Even those who were usually shy and reserved found themselves swaying to the music, unable to resist the joyous energy that filled the air.

Beneath a large banyan tree, a group had gathered to play with pichkaris-colorful water guns that shot out streams of tinted water.

They targeted anyone who passed by, turning even the most vigilant students into multi-colored masterpieces. The shouts of surprise and mock protests only added to the merriment.

In another corner, some students had set up a table with plates of sweets and snacks, the aroma of freshly fried gujiyas and thandai wafting through the air.

Those who needed a break from the color frenzy gathered there, exchanging stories and laughing over shared memories, their faces still streaked with the remnants of their earlier battles.

The library garden, usually a place of solitude and study, had become a vibrant hub of celebration. The trees, with their leaves now dusted in colors, stood tall, as if watching over the joyful chaos below.

Even the birds seemed to join in, their chirping blending with the music and laughter, as they flitted through the colorful air.

Amidst the vibrant chaos, the sense of unity was palpable. Friends smeared each other with colors, strangers became companions for a day, and the garden itself seemed to come alive with the spirit of Holi.

The laughter, the music, the colors-all of it combined to create a scene of pure, unfiltered joy, a moment that would linger in the memories of everyone present long after the colors had washed away.

Devrudra and Raghav were in their element, fully immersed in the vibrant chaos of Holi. The two had always loved this festival, and today was no different.

Their faces were already smeared with colors, each hue a testament to the battles they had fought and the friendships they had strengthened.

Raghav, always the life of any gathering, was in the center of the action, leading a group of students in an impromptu dance near the DJ booth. His energy was infectious, and he moved with an exuberance that drew others to him.

With each beat of the music, he encouraged others to join in, his laughter echoing through the garden. His clothes were soaked through, a kaleidoscope of colors that seemed to change with every step he took.

Devrudra, on the other hand, was a bit more strategic in his approach. He had stationed himself near one of the larger fountains in the garden, filling pichkaris with colored water and launching sneak attacks on anyone who wandered too close.

His eyes sparkled with mischief as he targeted unsuspecting students, relishing the surprise on their faces when they were hit with a sudden burst of color.

Yet, there was no malice in his actions-only the pure joy of the festival and the camaraderie that it fostered.

Seeing Raghav surrounded by students, Devrudra couldn't resist the urge to pull a prank on his friend.

He filled a pichkari with a particularly vibrant shade of pink and approached Raghav from behind, moving stealthily through the crowd.

Just as Raghav was about to spin around, Devrudra squeezed the pichkari, drenching him in pink from head to toe.

Raghav froze for a moment, then burst into laughter. "Devrudra! You sneaky-" he began, but his words were cut off by another wave of color, this time a deep blue, as Devrudra's pichkari struck again.

"You should've seen your face!" Devrudra shouted, laughing so hard that he almost doubled over.

The two friends stood there, both covered in an array of colors, grinning at each other like kids caught in the middle of a harmless prank.

Raghav wasn't one to let a challenge go unanswered. Grabbing a nearby bucket of colored water, he quickly turned the tables, splashing Devrudra in a brilliant mix of green and yellow.

The two of them continued their playful exchange, drawing the attention and laughter of the surrounding students, who cheered them on.

As the music picked up pace, Devrudra and Raghav were pulled into the center of the dancing crowd. Their friendly rivalry quickly turned into a dance-off, each trying to outdo the other with wild moves and exaggerated steps.

The other students formed a circle around them, clapping and cheering, the energy in the garden reaching a fever pitch.

Despite the spirited competition, there was no animosity between them-only the shared joy of the festival and the deep bond of friendship.

The garden, now a swirling mass of color, music, and laughter, seemed to pulse with life, a reflection of the happiness that Holi brought to everyone there.

As the celebration continued, Devrudra and Raghav found themselves standing side by side, catching their breath and surveying the scene around them.

The garden, with its vibrant colors and lively atmosphere, was a perfect backdrop for the festival they both loved so much. They exchanged a knowing glance, a silent acknowledgment of the day's joy and the memories they were creating together.

As the celebration raged on in the garden, Prashmita emerged from the library, her footsteps measured and her mind preoccupied with her latest research.

She wore a simple black T-shirt and grey tracks, her usual attire when she wanted to stay comfortable while studying. A bag hung over her shoulder, filled with books and notes.

The noise and colors from the celebration just beyond the library's walls were a stark contrast to the quiet she had just left behind.

Holi had never been her favorite festival. While others reveled in the vibrant chaos, she found herself uncomfortable with the idea of being drenched in colors.

She couldn't pinpoint the exact reason for her aversion-it was just a feeling that settled deep in her, making her avoid the festivities year after year.

As she stepped closer to the garden, Prashmita was careful to stick to the edges, hoping to make it back to her room without getting caught up in the frenzy.

She kept her head down, avoiding eye contact, her focus solely on the path ahead. The distant sounds of laughter and music felt almost like an intrusion into her carefully controlled world.

But before she could reach the safety of the quieter pathways, she felt a presence beside her. She looked up, and there he was-Devrudra, his face streaked with colors and a playful glint in his eyes.

She hadn't even noticed him approach, and now he stood just a few steps away, his gaze locked onto hers.

"Prashmita," he called out, his voice carrying over the noise of the celebration. There was something different in his tone, a warmth that softened the usual distance between them.

Before she could react or even form a thought, Devrudra stepped forward, his hand reaching out. In one swift, gentle motion, he smeared a streak of red color across her cheek.

The powder was soft against her skin, a vivid contrast to her dark attire. His touch lingered for just a moment, enough to send a small shockwave through her, breaking through the wall she had unconsciously built around herself.

Prashmita froze, her heart skipping a beat. She hadn't expected this, and for a moment, she was at a loss for how to respond.

The vibrant red on her cheek felt foreign, yet it didn't bring the familiar discomfort she usually felt. Instead, it stirred something deeper within her-a fleeting sense of happiness she rarely allowed herself to feel.

But the unknown dilemma of her life loomed large, casting a shadow that refused to let this moment of joy take root.

Sensing her sudden unease, he tried to lighten the moment, his voice soft with understanding. "I know, you told me you don't play Holi. But there's nothing wrong with trying, right?" His words were a gentle invitation, not to the festival itself, but to the idea of letting go, even if just for a moment.

Her stance was rigid, as if she were holding back a storm of emotions swirling within her. She took a slow breath, trying to steady herself, to keep the anger from spilling over. When she finally spoke, her voice was measured but firm, tinged with the effort it took to remain calm.

"You should have respected my boundary." The words were not just a rebuke, but a quiet expression of dejection.

Without waiting for a reply, she turned and began to walk away, her steps measured and deliberate as she made her way toward the exit gate of the library garden.

Each stride seemed to carry her further from him, leaving behind an aching silence in her wake.

He stood there, rooted to the spot, as a wave of guilt washed over him, pulling him into its depths. The brightness of the festival around him dimmed, overshadowed by the heaviness that settled in his heart, a silent regret that echoed long after she had disappeared from view.

His mind struggled to grasp the depth of the regret swelling within him, like a storm he couldn't quite comprehend.

His conscience, relentless and unforgiving, chastised him again and again for the thoughtless act.

He had known-he had known all too well how she felt-and yet, in a moment of careless abandon, he had crossed the very boundary she had carefully drawn.

The weight of his own mistake bore down on him, a heavy burden that he couldn't shake, as the echoes of his conscience reverberated through his thoughts, leaving him adrift in a sea of self-reproach.

He found himself ensnared in the tangled web of his own making, unable to fathom a remedy for the blunder he had so thoughtlessly committed. The weight of his mistake pressed heavily on his mind, each passing moment amplifying his sense of helplessness.

As the turmoil within him grew, the only clear thought that emerged through the haze of his distress was to reach out to Somvrat.

In the midst of his confusion and regret, the idea of calling Somvrat became his solitary beacon of hope, a thread of possibility amid the storm of his thoughts.

Dialing Somvrat's number with a trembling hand, he made his way to his hostel room, each step echoing with the weight of his regret.

Before he disappeared into the quiet of his own space, he sent a brief message to Raghav, fabricating an excuse for his sudden departure.

The truth was simpler, yet harder to face-he needed solitude to untangle his thoughts, to seek even the faintest thread of redemption.

In the stillness of his room, away from the riotous colors and ceaseless laughter, he hoped to find clarity, to soothe the turmoil that churned within him, and to reconcile with the gravity of his mistake.

"Somvrat, are you free?"

----