●00● Birthday
●Karan's Pov●
"Dadi, itni subh-subh mandir kaun jata hai?" I groaned, looking out of the car window.
(Dadi, who goes to the temple this early in the morning?)
The morning traffic was already a nightmare. Between the relentless blaring of horns and people shouting and talking, my irritation was peaking.
I could have been at home, on my bed in a peaceful, air-conditioned slumber. But no. Dadi had other plans.
"Subh nahi toh kab mandir jana chahiye?" Dadi shot back, sharply. Adjusting her glasses with one hand and she gave me a 'don't argue with me' look.
(If not early in the morning, then when else are we supposed to go?)
Honestly? I liked her attitude.
"But what's so special about today? Why are you dragging me here?" I asked again.
"You don't know?" she asked, glancing at me.
"Why would I ask if I knew?"
She smiled then, a small, knowing shake of her head. "Today is your birthday," she said, letting out a soft chuckle. "How could you forget your own birthday, gadhe?"
I went quiet. Birthdays aren't exactly milestones when you don't have a mother to celebrate them and a father who doesn't give a damn about his son's birthday.
"Ugh, birthdays are annoying," I muttered, rolling my eyes and leaning back into the leather seat.
"Rakshit bhi yhi bolta tha," Dadi laughed. "Tu bilkul apne papa pe gaya hai."
(Rakshit used to say the exact same thing. You are just like your father.)
That hit a nerve. Being compared to my father was my ultimate nightmare.
My jaw tightened, and the words came out strained. "No. I'm nothing like him."
Dadi sighed, the laughter dying in her eyes. She didn't argue. A heavy silence settled between us, thick with the things we never talked about.
To break the tension, I forced a smirk and nudged her.
"Anyway, what are you going to ask God for? A new husband for yourself?"
Dadi slapped my arm lightly. "Hatt besharam! Jab dekho mazak."
(You shameless boy, all you ever do is joke around(
I actually laughed this time. "I'm serious, Dadi! You're still a beauty. Why waste it?"
Dadi shook her head, though I saw the corners of her mouth twitch. "Hey Bhagwan, what am I going to do with this boy?" she sighed. "And I won't be asking for myself. I'll be asking for you - a nice, sensible girl to straighten you out."
"Dadi, I turned seventeen, not twenty-seven," I reminded her.
The car crawled to a halt in front of the temple. The air was suddenly filled with the rhythmic clang of bells and the low hum of chanting.
We stepped out of the car. Dadi gripped her puja ki thali with ease, walkng through the crowd while I followed behind like a lost kid.
Honestly, the only reason I agreed to come was for the gajar ka halwa prasad.
Suddenly, a heavy shove from behind sent me stumbling. Before I could regain my footing, the crowd surged, pushing a girl right into my path. She started to fall, and instinct took over. I reached out, my hands finding her waist, pulling her steady just before she hit the stone floor.
The world stopped.
Our faces were inches apart. Her eyes were squeezed shut in terror, but slowly, they fluttered open. Deep, brown eyes met mine, staring directly into my soul.
For a few seconds, the sounds of the temple-the bells, the chanting, the shouting-faded into a blur. All I could hear was the wild thumping of my own heart. I had never seen eyes like hers; they were like stars.
She was wearing a scarf that masked most of her face, but a sudden sharp wind caught the fabric, tugging it away. As the silk fluttered back, her face was revealed to me in the morning light.
My gaze drifted to her soft, pink lips before jumping back to her eyes. Then I saw a large, dark mark on her right cheek.
It wasn't a flaw. To me, it looked like a beauty mark - the final, deliberate stroke an artist leaves on a masterpiece to make it unforgettable. It made her beauty feel human, grounded, and hauntingly real.
"Beautiful," the word slipped out of my mouth before I could catch it. My heart had spoken louder than my brain.
Her eyes widen and mine too. A deep flush crept up her neck and stained her cheeks red. She pressed her palms against my chest, gently but firmly shoving herself away from me.
"Thank you for... saving me from falling," she whispered, her voice trembling.
I just nodded, my throat suddenly too tight for words.
She turned and hurried away, disappearing into the crowd. I stood frozen, watching the spot where she'd vanished until a gentle tap landed on my shoulder.
"Why are you standing here like a statue?" Dadi asked, looking at me with confusion. She clearly hadn't seen the encounter.
I shook my head, trying to clear the fog. "Nothing. Let's go inside."
We entered inside thr temple. I joined my hands in front of the idol, I didn't ask for the usual things. I thanked Him for the life I had, despite the cracks in it. Then, without thinking, I added something-
one more time, please let me see her one more time.
