Third Person PoV

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25th March'24

Devrudra sat in the quiet corner of their hostel café, his usually calm demeanor shattered by the storm raging within him. His fingers drummed restlessly on the table, and his gaze was fixed on the swirling patterns of his untouched coffee. 

Across from him, Somvrat lounged back in his chair, his eyes narrowing as he observed his new friend's uncharacteristic agitation.

"Alright, Dr. Banerjee, spill it," Somvrat urged, his voice carrying a mix of curiosity and concern. "What's got you looking like you just lost a game you never stood a chance of winning and most importantly remembering me?"

Devrudra let out a long, weary sigh, finally lifting his gaze to meet Somvrat's. "I messed up, Somvrat. I really, really messed up."

Somvrat's interest piqued, and he leaned in slightly, the playful glint in his eyes replaced by genuine concern. "What kind of mess are we talking about? The 'forgot-to-submit-an-important-paper' kind? Or the 'accidentally-insulted-a-professor' kind?"

Devrudra shook his head slowly, the weight of his guilt evident in the way his shoulders slumped. "Worse, much worse. It's about Prashmita."

Somvrat's brows knit together, a delicate crease forming as he straightened in his chair, the playful light in his eyes dimming. He could sense the weight of unspoken words hanging between them, like a heavy mist that obscured the path ahead. 

In that quiet moment, he pondered the hidden depths of Devrudra's turmoil, the gravity of a matter that had driven him to seek counsel. His voice, when it came, was soft yet resonant, like the first notes of a somber melody.

"What happened?" he asked, the words carrying both curiosity and an unspoken promise of understanding

Devrudra hesitated, the memory of his blunder replaying in his mind like a haunting echo. "You know how Prashmita feels about Holi... how she's always kept her distance from the celebrations, never wanting to be part of it. And despite knowing all of that... I— I smeared color on her face."

Somvrat's eyes widened, a flicker of shock breaking through his usually composed facade as his mind raced, imagining the scene that must have unfolded. 

The thought of what Devrudra might have done sent a tremor through his composure, but he quickly steadied himself, smoothing the surface of his expression like a calm lake after a stone has been cast.

"Devrudra, you didn't..." he began, his voice carrying the weight of disbelief, tinged with the hope that his worst suspicions were unfounded.

"I did," Devrudra confessed, his voice tinged with regret. "I don't know what came over me. Everyone was so full of joy, lost in the colors and laughter, and I— I got caught up in the moment. I thought maybe, just maybe, she'd enjoy it this time. That she'd see the festival in a new light. But I was wrong, so wrong."

Somvrat leaned back slowly, crossing his arms, his gaze narrowing as he studied Devrudra with a deep, knowing intensity. 

"How did she react?" he asked, though the answer already whispered at the edges of his thoughts. Having been close friends with her for the past six years, he understood the intricate layers of her nature. 

She could navigate even the most turbulent storms with a calm exterior, but he also knew that the smallest misstep, a single crack in the façade, could unleash a tempest.

Devrudra closed his eyes briefly, the image of Prashmita's stricken face flashing before him. "She froze. She looked at me like I had shattered something precious between us. There was so much pain in her eyes, Somvrat... and then she just... walked away. She didn't say a word. Just turned and left."

Somvrat exhaled slowly, the weight of the situation settling between them. "That's tough, man. You knew this was a sensitive thing for her, yet you pushed it."

Devrudra's hands clenched into fists, the remorse gnawing at him. "I didn't mean to, Somvrat. I thought— I don't even know what I thought. I should've respected her boundaries, understood that this wasn't something I could change for her. I let her down, and I don't know how to make it right."

Somvrat's gaze softened, and he leaned forward, his tone more gentle now. "Devrudra, I'm calling you by your name only , don't mind, you made a mistake. A big one, yes. But you're not beyond redemption here. You've got to show her that you understand the gravity of what you did, that you're truly sorry. Give her space to process this, but don't disappear. She needs to know you care enough to make amends."

Devrudra looked up, his eyes filled with a mix of regret and determination. "No worries please do call me by my name only. I want to make it right, Somvrat. But I don't even know where to start."

Somvrat's smile was soft, almost tender, a quiet gesture of reassurance that reached his eyes. "Begin by being there for her," he advised gently.

"But let it be on her terms. Don't press her to speak before she's ready. When the moment comes, and she's ready to listen, speak from the heart—without excuses. Let her see that you've learned from this, that you respect her boundaries even more now. Show her that your intentions were never misguided, that all you wanted was to share with her the joy we find in this festival, to give her a glimpse of the happiness it brings us."

Devrudra nodded slowly, absorbing his friend's words. "You're right. I owe her that much. I just hope she'll give me the chance to make things right."

Somvrat's smile broadened, a glimmer of his familiar teasing nature resurfacing. "She will, Devrudra," he assured, his voice warm with quiet confidence.

 "It will take time, and patience will be your closest ally. But if there's one thing I know about you, it's that you've always had a way of persevering, of finding a path even when the way seems uncertain. Persistence is in your nature, and with that, I have no doubt you'll find a way to make things right."

Devrudra managed a faint smile, the determination in his heart slowly taking root. "Thanks, Somvrat. I needed to hear that."

"Anytime," Somvrat replied, his tone lightening as he leaned back in his chair. "Now, how about having some coffee to clear your head? You'll need all the focus you can get to win her trust back."

Devrudra chuckled softly, the tension in his shoulders easing just a bit. "sure"

Somvrat grinned, the familiar banter slipping back into place. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

As they prepared to leave the café, Devrudra felt a renewed sense of purpose. He had a long road ahead to repair the damage he had caused, but with friends like Somvrat by his side, he knew he had the strength to face it.

I stood outside the café, feeling like a ghost haunting a place that used to feel like home. The vibrant chatter of my fellow students floated around me, a symphony of laughter and joy, but I was deaf to it all. My heart was a lead weight in my chest, dragging me down into an abyss of regret and self-loathing.

The sun hung low, its rays warm and crimsoned the whole ambience, yet I felt an icy chill creeping into my bones, a stark contrast to the joyous colors of Holi that still seemed to cling to my skin.

I could still see the kaleidoscope of colors that had erupted around me, hear the echoes of laughter and playful shouts, but none of that warmth reached me anymore.

 All I could see was Prashmita's face—the shock, the hurt, the betrayal. Her eyes had held so much pain, like a delicate glass figure that had been shattered in an instant.

What was I thinking? 

I had known better. I had seen her diverting the topic at the mere mention of Holi, witnessed her retreat from the festivities that brought joy to so many. Yet, in that fleeting moment of reckless abandon, I had chosen to disregard her feelings. 

I had smeared that color on her face as if it were a blessing instead of a violation, and in doing so, I had torn apart the fragile threads of understanding between us.

My foot found a loose pebble on the ground, and I kicked it hard, watching it skitter away like my chances of redemption. Anguish surged through me, hot and suffocating.

I felt trapped in a whirlwind of emotions—shame, guilt, regret—each one slicing through me like a sharp knife. I had crossed a line I should have never approached, and now I stood here, paralyzed by the fear of facing the consequences.

Somvrat's voice echoed in my mind, a gentle reminder amid my storm of despair. "Give her space to process this, but don't disappear." But how could I face her? The thought of seeing her again, of witnessing her hurt, made my heart constrict painfully. 

What if I approached her only to find her closed off, her walls reinforced against me? The image of her turning away, disappointment etched across her face, sent a wave of nausea rolling through me.

I pulled out my phone, my fingers trembling as I hovered over her name in my contacts. 

What would I even say? 

Sorry felt insufficient, like a mere whisper against the cacophony of what I had done. I wanted to explain, to pour out my heart, to make her see that my intentions hadn't been malicious. But what if she didn't want to hear it?

I leaned against the café wall, my back pressed against the cool surface, seeking solace that wouldn't come.

Why did I have to be so thoughtless? 

The festival had pulled me in, the laughter and joy wrapping around me like a warm blanket, but I had let that warmth blind me. I should have known better.

I should have respected her boundaries, honored her feelings. Now, I was left standing in the cold reality of my mistakes, feeling the weight of my failure settle heavily on my shoulders.

As I opened my eyes, the bustling campus sprawled before me, filled with students lost in their carefree lives. Couples strolled hand in hand, laughter spilling from their lips, their faces glowing with the happiness I had so foolishly tried to share with Prashmita. 

And then, amidst the sea of joyous smiles looming around the campus, I saw her—a glimpse of that face, which I always carved for, her head down, shoulders hunched, walking with a heavy gait that mirrored my own internal turmoil.

A sharp pang shot through me, a visceral reminder of the bond I had jeopardized. I wanted to call her name, to rush to her side, but fear gripped my heart with icy fingers. 

What if she just walked past me, a mere ghost of the friendship we once had? What if I was too late?

Pushing myself off the wall, a surge of determination washed over me. I couldn't stand here, frozen by fear and guilt. I had to try, even if it felt like walking into a tempest. I inhaled deeply, filling my lungs with the cool air, and took a step forward.

I pushed myself off the wall, a surge of determination coursing through me. I couldn't just stand here, paralyzed by fear. I had to try, even if it felt like walking into a storm.

With a deep breath, I began to follow her, heart pounding in my chest. I didn't know what I would say when I caught up to her, but I knew I had to at least try to bridge the distance between us. Because if I didn't, I might lose her forever, and that thought was more unbearable than the guilt I was already carrying.

"Prashmita!" I called, my voice breaking through the laughter and chatter around us.

She stopped, her head slowly turning in my direction. I held my breath, praying she wouldn't walk away again.

Maybe, just maybe, I could find a way to mend what I had broken.

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In the vibrant chaos of laughter and colors,
I thought joy could bridge the distance between us,
But a moment's folly painted over your boundaries,
Leaving behind only echoes of hurt in your eyes.

I stand here, wrapped in shadows of regret,
Haunted by the silence that speaks louder than words,
Wishing to mend the fracture with honest whispers,
Hoping you'll see my heart and find your way back to me.

Author's note

I urge you to listen to this exquisite masterpiece by Tagore, "Sokhi Bhabona Kahare Bole." This song captures the melancholic shades of love—the deep yearning, the quiet despondency, and the ache of separation. It speaks of the bittersweet longing and the anticipation of reunion after love's pause, encapsulating emotions that are both tender and profound. Through its delicate melody and poignant lyrics, Tagore crafts a timeless ode to love's enduring beauty and its heart-wrenching depth.