From T to A in 16 Days

Prologue

Ankur pov

I rode through the countryside lanes, enjoying the fresh air as well as keeping an eye for small puddles or cracks. It really was a good idea to spend the weekend riding a bike through these lanes. At about noon, I stopped at a coffee shop to have some snacks, and continue the journey. The plan was to spend the night in one of the motels in the countryside and heed back the next day.

I walked inside the shop and was surprised to see the crowd over there. I mean, most people do not prefer eating in countryside places unless they want a break or have to go to one for maintaining their savings. Either way, the shop was crowded and I could not find any empty table. I let my eyes sweep around the room and I spotted a man in his late teens sitting alone on a table for two, which fortunately was near the window. I signalled the waiter, went to the man and asked him if I could sit there. He gazed around the fully crowded room before nodding and went back to reading the book he was engrossed in. I took out my laptop and began completing my presentation. I could feel his eyes on me now and then but chose to ignore him.

The waiter came and took my order; and as he left, I turned back to work, only to notice that the man was now staring at me with a look so mysterious that I could only decipher the confusion out of many.

"Ankur Dhawan?"
The tone made it clear that he wasn't sure if he had recognized me. I observed his facial features, trying to remember him from hundreds of people who could have recognized me (even with my mask on). Apparently, my eyes gave him the confirmation he needed.
The man in question removed his own mask, moving his arm forward to seemingly shake hands. "Hrithvik Mahajan."
A bit surprised at the sudden reveal, I shook his hand, the only greeting "Why do you have red streaks?"
"They were originally golden. Hated that look, so me being the smart person I am, applied brown colour, you know my natural hair colour, on them. Turns out it does not work that way, and that's it, the red streaks."
"Honestly, it looks horrible." My mask was on the table too.
"In that case I will let you know that I kickstarted a new trend. Just like you did with your hair-cut."
"I did not. It was just a coincidence that many decided to get that particular hair-cut."
"So you wish me to believe that nearly half of the boys had the same thought. Which would mean the ones who got it days after you weren't inspired by you."
"Not exactly inspired, they just came to know that a hair-cut like mine doesn't make you a target for jokes. No one was that childish"

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

"You surely got good at identifying people with their masks on."
"Skills are required for survival, wouldn't want to run into one of my old teachers, specially the one who used to scold me the most." He let out a chuckle at his own dramatic effects.
"You surely need training in that then. It took you several minutes of constant staring to identify me."
"Says the one who himself is unskilled at the task. But seriously, you could tell that I was staring without even looking at me, that is a skill of a kind."
"Another skill to survive another situation."

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

We ended up spending the whole afternoon catching up on each other's lives, reliving old memories, remembering old nicknames, conversing about our common friends and so on. At the moment, we were leaning against our bikes, milkshakes in hand as we looked at the sight of birds going back home before the Sun set. My companion was attempting to multitask, scrolling through his social media accounts from his phone, the other holding the drink. His eyes would alternate between the screen of the said device and the trajectory of any random bird, going back to screen when the bird reached its nest, or disappeared from view. Him attempting to guide the straw to his mouth without looking at it was entertaining and competing for my attention, the birds being the other competitor.

"I'll take your leave." I stated after a few more minutes of silence. "Need to find a nice place for the night."
"You did not book a place in advance?" His eyes left the screen as he closed the app, pocketing his phone and completing the remaining drink.
"I did, but as our meeting wasn't scheduled, I haven't even covered half the distance till there. I cancelled the booking for conversing with you."
"You could join me." He kept the empty container in the bottle holder, fishing out his mask as I wondered if the suggestion was just for formality or if he really wanted me to join him. "I mean, I did cause the delay. And the cottage I am staying at does have a spacious room with a king-sized bed. If sharing a bed isn't a problem then you should surely accept the offer."
"Nah, I am good." I said, mounting my bike.
He looked at the time from his phone. "I insist, there are very few eating places in this area, and less than half of them provide lodging services. Guessing by the crowd back at the café, there is a high chance that all of the rooms are taken. So, unless you wish to have greater possibility of you having to skip your dinner in hopes of finding a place for the night the farther you travel, only to be disappointed, I'd recommend you to join me."
"Fine."

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

The cottage could be said to be a part of a campsite in the past, now renovated to suit individual travellers. The one Hrithvik rented had three rooms with separate bathrooms attached to each. He had turned one corner into some sort of makeshift kitchen. He informed that the common kitchen also provided refrigerator services.

"You staying here for the month." I enquired while looking at the stacks of books and notebooks kept almost all over the place.
"A week. Today was the fourth day. I just like to carry reading material for every mood. Chances are, I won't even open half of these."

I sat on the bed, picking the notebook on the side table. The first page had two dates, both of the previous year. I skipped through the book, conforming my thoughts.

"You write diary entries?" I was surprised I didn't know about his habit of his, but maybe he developed it over the last two years.
"Yes, I started writing at eleven. Helped a lazy me ensure that my study plans were being followed. Initially, it was just the topics I had revised, then it became a proper journal. But even now I am not that regular at writing them. I can skip a couple of days and not lose my sleep on it."
"You surely got the wrong one during the last-minute packing, this one has the last entry of the previous year.
"Actually, I carry some of the journals with me, nothing better than reliving some of my early teen days." His tone having traces of embarrassment.

We tend to voice out thoughts based on our audience, a great observation by me. In an attempt to be liked by most of our group, we unconsciously mould the facts, adding a little lie to it in the process. But when one talks with themselves, what comes out is the truth of the person's thoughts. There was no way Hrithvik could have lied in his journal, as your journals are not meant to be on a public display.
"Is it possible that you have the diary containing journals of November 2018?"
"What? Why? No" Hrithvik was smart, he knew what I wanted. "You have literally heard the story from me more than once. You can even narrate it to me."
"And I hope that you did notice that there were minute changes every time you recalled it. Honestly, I would be the only person who knows more than one version of it."
"Not the only one." He murmured, though he was in a dire need to learn the skill of murmuring. (Basic rule, if the second/third person can hear what you say, then you it is not murmuring. )
"Pardon." I had to act that he wasn't audible.
"I said I would check but I am sure that one isn't here."

Turned out, Hrithvik did pack the required journal. He took a highlighter to mark some of the entries, the ones he claimed had a significant part in the turn of events. A couple of times he would pause on a page, read a few lines and then mark or skip it. He didn't have to say that aloud to me, I knew I had to refrain from reading the unmarked journals. I was already invading his personal space by reading his journal uninvited.