"Ek ajnabee hasina se yu mulakat hogayi,
Phir kya hua, yeh na pucho, kuch aisi baat hogayi"
The om chanting continued in the apartment next door. He was supposed to be at his friend Vivek's house for a very elaborate party but was locked in his own house. By an enormous amount of chappals that surrounded his door and the rest of his side of the corridor.
Ritvik had come home thinking all was well and was waiting for him to reach the party, talk to some people and come home and sleep.
But stupid chappals had got into his perfect plan for tonight.
He sighed.
Who has yoga sessions at night anyway? With those many people.
Not that the apartments weren't spacious. If they could handle his office colleagues, these apartments could hold down a yoga session. But the fact that it was a Friday night was what irritated him.
He waited for 10 minutes sitting on his sofa. He had nothing else to do. But he wanted to attend that party. So he made up his mind. Even if the sky fell, he would make it past his apartment's corridor and to Vivek's house.
He finally wore his shoes, he decided wearing sandals would only increase his chance of slipping and falling, and opened his door. He had his head down so he could find empty spaces to put his feet in when he heard humming.
He realised that it was a girl's voice.
Not because it was all delicate and soft, which it was, but for the choice of the song. It was a typical old hindi song that his sister had once played.
His sister had played it relentlessly a long time ago and when he was tired of hearing the song on repeat, he had made the mistake of asking her to stop. She had made it her life's goal that he heard and liked all the songs that she knew. And she had succeeded
He realised that the song's humming had stopped.
It reminded him of his sister and her smile, those big crooked teeth. And that obscene pair of earrings that she always wore when they went to watch cheesy, old Hindi movies at Swara Theatre down Chanderi Street.
How she would ask him to buy her another pack of popcorn though she hadn't finished the one in her hand. How she read her books on that one spot on their sofa. How she had come to Mumbai last year, only to find the worst. How she had sworn and told him she'd visit again.
How he missed her.
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aisha
p.s : i recommend listening to "ek ajnabee hasina se" before reading this for the feels
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Jhumkewali
RomanceOnce he had heard to a song, his sister had made him listen to it (by force), and there was a lyric he loved. And though he wouldn't admit it, it was stuck in his mind. For years now. . There were two things constant in Ritwik's broken, messed up l...
