Mannat

Megha's POV

Red– the colour conveys love, desire, luck, excitement and courage; it also depicts hatred, violence, sin, warning and danger.

That is all my life has become– the other side of the coin.

Danger.

And here I am, navigating through the streets with a scooty– I don't know who owns this but at least I have a yellow helmet.

Yellow isn't my favourite colour to begin with, but at least it doesn't throw my thoughts into disarray, scrambling my mental processes, turning my thoughts into a tangled mess. It indicates happiness, joy, intellect and positivity. Just like me and my blood group: B+ (be positive). Way much better than Red.

My favourite colour is Purple. And you won't believe it, but I've really dug into this. Purple signifies dignity, magic, mystery, independence, luxury, royalty and wisdom. Which clearly shows why I love it, but Sanaya said I'm crazy, to which I've agreed long ago. But there are more reasons to love purple.

My favourite flower is Lavender, which is also a colour– a shade of Purple itself. And that flower depicts a sense of purity, peace, calmness, elegance and femininity. The colour is also associated with the crown chakra, which is the energy center associated with higher purpose and spiritual connectivity– which I need the most right now.

Tishya calls me a lunatic for wasting my brain cells for selecting a colour or a flower to give it a label of “favourites,” but I had to choose wisely. I always do this- thinking. I devote a proper amount of time to picking the smallest of things. The only thing I didn't plan was- this black scooty– I was still unknown to the owner, with a yellow helmet, steering on the highway and me in my wedding lehenga– which was of course, Red.

Honestly, I was overjoyed with excitement, my heart hammered in my chest, and I sped up through the long roads. A powerful gust surged through my hair while I rushed towards a life away from the confines of traditions and the expectations of society around me. The adrenaline coursed through my veins as I gripped the handlebars tightly, letting the world around me rush by with a slow hum of ignorance. The feeling of lack of limelight for the first time in twenty years of my life was so tempting, it made my breath hitch.

The busy lights of the traffic looked fascinating, and my scooty kept moving, and–

My alarm rang.

It was a dream. It was a dream. It was a dream. I kept chanting, making it the mantra for the day while I neglected the way uneven gasps tore through the silence of my room, my chest heaving as a chaotic mix of panic, disappointment and relief warred within.

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Bhaagi-bhaagi zindagi re,

Peechhe-peechhe main chali re,

Nayi-nayi raahon pe~

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The summer was in full bloom, birds chirped their morning songs and the day was just beginning to weave its way through life's hustle. Yet, I had to force myself to get ready for college. It's not that I hate college; it's just the bright sun and scorching heat that already had me longing for the cool comfort of my room.

I actually like going to college. I used to love my school too—especially when I was teaching part-time there. But the one thing I've never liked is summer. And of course, the government decided to start a Retail course now of all times.

‘When we sell goods and services directly to consumers for their personal use, they call it retail– the final stage in the distribution chain.’ This course might just be the final stage of my life too if I don't get a day off soon—but not today. So, I grabbed my bag and rushed to the main road, with Papa accompanying me to the auto-rickshaw stand.

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Mornings, music and me– the best trio I could ever be a part of. The solitary nature of the music allowed for deeper introspection of my soul.

The lyrics just give me the chills; the tune holds this incredible raw emotion, would gladly die for; the beats—electrifying—wove their way into the chambers of my heart, leaving me breathless.

Music was my companion through my wins and wars. When I was drowning in grief, the weight of life was too heavy to walk with; when I felt like I was losing every part of myself, it was music that held me together, catching on every knot in my heart, resolving it– creating a masterpiece out of the broken bits of my soul.

My white earbuds hummed in my ears. The song was taking its slow time to trail over my skin, burning deep within my bones, soaking my senses with a torturous ache of overwhelming emotions– when my phone buzzed with a call, interrupting my precious moment.

Divya.

An old acquaintance–now a friend.

“Hello?” She said the moment I answered.

“Hiii!” My response was way more enthusiastic than I'd intended.

“Where are you?” She chirped.

“On my way to college. How and where are you nowadays?” I asked, wondering how she’d managed to call. She’s a married woman now. Married people rarely get time for themselves, how come she’s thinking of me?

“I'm good. At home. Why don't you come visit today?” Oh, that's how. She’s visiting her parents. How nice–just as much as I want to visit myself, leaving everyone and everything behind.

“Oh, I just crossed your street.” I said, glancing to my left, as if someone might be waiting for me to look back–almost as if I wanted someone to wait for me.

“Didn't notice when.” I added.

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Jis raah pe,

Hai ghar tera,

Aksar wahan se haan main hu guzra…

Shayad yahi,

Dil me raha,

Tu mujhko mil jaaye kya pataa~

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“Oh, that's fine. Dhruv saw you.” Dhruv— I heard the name and let my mind crawl back to the memories, almost involuntarily to memories of her wedding—her brother, our school, our class, those benches at the back of the room, those bickerings, those fights.

“Oh.” I had to pull myself out of my thoughts, back to her voice.

“So, you're coming, right?” She asked. I almost heard a sense of hope and insistence, making me wonder what or who might have prompted it.

“I have to ask Papa. I'll call you later, after my classes.” I needed time to gather every bit of brain cells before committing a “yes” to her.

“Okay, call me.” She said and I could hear her smile. Almost.

“Sure, bye.” I said finally, wrapping up the call. My head dropped into my hands as I let myself sink into the sudden weight of the realisation.

If only I could explain why I hate Tuesdays and Saturdays.

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The moment I passed through the gate of my college– there she was waving, at me– Sanaya.

Oh, how much I loved that bright smile of hers! Her every smile, her laugh of hers was contagious. She was beautiful, kind, sweet and caring; she had those beautiful, gorgeous eyes—everything she needed to make anyone fall for her.

My plus point in front of her was that she was 4'11” while I was 5‘4”. And I had a sharp brain; it took her ages to understand a joke of mine; and I teased her every time for that.

“Am I late?” I asked, dropping my bag down on the bench– the one in the last row of room five, in the middle column. That was mine. My place to sit, to eat, to study, to do whatever with. Nobody dared to lay a finger on it. Even the professors knew.

“Almost.” She said with a frown.

“Did something happen?” She asked suddenly, concern laced within her tone. And that was the moment when I felt as if I had to tell her about Divya's call.

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I was spinning my pen over and over while listening to our professor elaborate another detail on the “Introduction to Retailing”. Speaking about another foundational area– as we had already covered the definition, its nature, scope, history and evolution– he discussed the retail formats: supermarket, department stores, specialty stores and online retail.

It was so easy; I could teach the professor myself. Can't they make it slightly difficult to add thrill? To add a little pinch of spice? To add the spirit of competition? No? Why? I groaned, and Sanaya heard me.

“What?” She whispered.

“It's boring.” I whispered back.

“Because you can't understand?” She frowned.

“Because I could give him a lesson before he comes to teach.” I replied with a long groan, she just shook her head, adding notes.

I had to bear through this session anyway.

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Oh, me, my poor stomach and this cruel hunger!

“Sir, I need a break.” I demanded, and he gave in. Nobody can say “no” to me. It was so easy. Why is everything so easy except my life?

I picked my bag up and left the class with Sanaya. We used to have our lunch in the last room of the ground floor, sometimes on the terrace.

We entered the last room and it was empty as usual. As we sat down, I mentally decorated the empty bench with delicious sabji of eggplant. I loved brinjals very much, so here I was, again with the same sabji.

Sanaya sat across from me and placed her lunch box on the table with a thud. Her eyes glimmered with questions, and I knew I'm not gonna get out of this mess without giving her the words she wanted to hear.

“What is it now?” I retort with grimace, not wanting her to disturb me with any sour topic when all I craved was a peaceful lunch.

“You're going?” She asked in a low tone, careful enough not to break through my patience.

“Yes.” I said with no signs of doubt.

“But Dhruv-” She started when I interrupted.

“It's not about him. It's about Divya.” Hearing that, she changed the topic to the specialty stores, knowing better than arguing with me.

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I bid bye to Sanaya and sat in the auto-rickshaw, plugged in my earbuds, and continued the music again as I thought about Divya's insistence. I had to visit her today. But what about Dhruv?

My lungs felt hard as a rock as I drew a long breath, composing myself for the near future– for his glance, for the look he might have in his eyes, for the way I was fantasizing about him starting a conversation. Not because we were known to each other, but maybe because I was his guest or his little sister's good friend.

The moment I got down the rickshaw, my heart raced with possibilities of him being at home– in his casuals, with his glasses, maybe a black shirt, his long hair as it was in Divya's wedding.

I rang the bell, and my thoughts were a mess until I couldn't breathe. Every thought, breath and step felt immensely heavy, like the world around me was closing in and I didn't know how to collect the little bits of oxygen I felt nearby.

After what felt like an eternity but were merely a few seconds, Divya opened the door. My poor heart calmed down a little by her presence. I moved forward, and she pulled me into a tight hug. A hug– it felt nice. So, I let myself indulge in that nice feeling and wrapped my arms around her very slowly and lightly. It was a foreign feeling; Hugs were always a luxury.

She pulled me inside and my heart raced a mile. I kept walking, listening to her words, looking down at my feet– I kept walking. And with every step, my heart was slowly climbing into my throat. The brinjals I ate for lunch were threatening a messy revisit, and I regretted eating at all.

She was talking about– I don't know– her honeymoon, maybe the festivals she celebrated with her husband. I couldn't focus, even if I tried. It was a mess—I was a mess.

I jerked myself away from the memories rushing to my eyes, trying to make a silent peace pact with my brinjals, right when I felt a sudden push and I lost my balance, ready to fall. I should've walked with my chin up, so I wouldn't have bumped into a wall or a pillar, whatever it was.

I closed my eyes shut, ready to feel the pain of landing with my ass kissing the floor—but it never came—the pain, it never came. I opened my left eye first, to check. And my eyes widened; the right eye opened on its own. I didn't fall; I was suspended in mid-air. Dread and unease were the only things I felt when I saw a firm grip on my wrist. It wasn't any wall or pillar. It was him.

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Ek din…

Ek din, teri raahon mein,

Baahon me, panaaho mein-

Aaunga…

Kho jaungaa…

Ek din, tera ho jaungaa~

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Finally. I thought I'll never be able to do this but yeah. I did it! I DID IT!!! It was too overwhelming to be true. My first ever chapter for my first ever book. Wow. This feels to good to be real. And yes, I finally made it!

And, the word count for this chapter is...

*Plays a dramatic tune*

..is.. 2,166. Yay!

So, could you please drop a vote, your thoughts and comments, share and suggest this book to your friends or family whoever might like my writing style? Pretty please with a cherry on top?

Thankyou so much for giving your precious time to my silly writings.

Love, Love, Love~

Scarlett 🎀💋