Past :
Shubman
It took every ounce of my strength to resist Chucky's presence and return to Chandigarh. Despite my aversion to early morning flights, I booked one to ensure I could avoid both Chucky and Anika, who wished to visit my parents. I fabricated an excuse, claiming they were attending a wedding. The irony was that even I wasn't aware of the identities of the bride and groom.
In the hush of the night, I found myself caught between the allure of Chucky's unread messages and the firm grasp of reality. The soft glow of my phone hinted at a world brimming with dreams and emotions, waiting to be explored.
As I leafed through our digital trove of T20I World Cup memories, each photo painted a silent canvas of the enchantment that defined us. The muted light from the screen mirrored the journey of my tear-stained pillow, each drop a testament to the stories etched in our shared moments.
She, a steady presence amid life's chaos, stood as my anchor during my first IPL captaincy. Before every match, her words were a soothing melody, a balm to the nerves I kept hidden.
Our story unfolded in the gentle glow of our nightly phone exchanges, defying the clamour of our hectic lives. Despite her commitments with RCB, her messages, like love notes in pixels, bridged the gap of physical distance. The soft radiance of our conversations warmed the chilly nights, affirming that distance was a transient illusion.
As RCB's IPL journey culminated in the semifinals, her role in my finals against MI became a defining chapter. The unsung hero, she hastily journeyed to my side, her tired eyes revealing the lengths she traversed to offer support. Her drifting into sleep during the match mattered little compared to the sheer joy of having her in the stands—a silent cheerleader in the theatre of my victories.
A nostalgic smile played on my lips as I stumbled upon a video captured by Shahneel. It unveiled an unguarded moment—her waking up, clapping with untamed enthusiasm, blissfully unaware of whose cricketing victory it was.
The door to my room creaked open, a faint sound breaking the silence of the night. Reacting quickly, I concealed my phone beneath the pillow, using its soft fabric to wipe away the evidence of my tears.
"Bubs, what's wrong with you?" Shahneel's voice, concerned and penetrating, cut through the darkness of the room.
"Nothing," I whispered back, ensuring my voice remained steady, preventing any cracks that might betray my emotions. I gazed out into the night, where the city lights merged into a blurry mosaic.
"Stop lying. You've been sulking in there for a week. You haven't even gone to Mumbai to meet your friends. Tere pair ghar pe chaar din se zyada tikte nahi, aur Mumbai jaana hota hai, toh ab kya hua?" Shahneel's words were a blend of concern and frustration.
"It's nothing; go to sleep, it's late," I murmured, burying my face deeper into the pillow in an attempt to conceal my emotions.
"Stop lying, Shubman. Mum and Dad are worried. What's wrong with you? We asked Sanket and Rahil, but they said you need space. What kind of space do you need that you don't even get out of your bed? And also, Anya, why haven't you been talking to her?" Shahneel fired all the questions at once.
I turned to look at her, my voice croaking as I spoke, "Can you please leave me alone?" I could barely make out her silhouette in the dark.
"Bubs, what's wrong? Tell me. It's scary to see you like this. And I ain't leaving until you tell me something," her gentle hands caressed away my tears.
"It's nothing, Shahu. Some days, you just don't feel like yourself," I muttered, rubbing my face in an attempt to shake off the heaviness.
"I know, Bubs, but that doesn't mean you just lay there. Talk to your friends and your Anya. It will help," she said, her gentle touch caressing my hair as I shut my eyes, letting the tears flow.
'Your Anya,' I thought, a pang of longing hitting me. If only it could turn real, but she didn't know that. Hearing those words only brought forth a fresh wave of tears down my cheeks.
My heart felt vulnerable and tired like it had never been before. As if sensing my turmoil, my iPhone started ringing, and I knew who it was.
"Pick up, don't just look at it," she urged, handing me the phone tucked under my pillow.
In the dark, her caller ID showed "Chucky," a name contrasting with its scary reputation. Surprisingly, it symbolizes her power to bring light to my heart.
The phone rang for the second time before falling silent once more. She had a pattern, a ritual of calling three times before giving it a rest until the next day.
"Shubhiiii," Shahneel's voice cut through the persistent ringing, urging me to pick up the call. Before the third ring could complete its cycle, I hastily grabbed the phone, my emotions still raw and unsteady.
"Banaras chaloge?" Her voice remained remarkably calm as if my weeks of silence hadn't affected her. "I'm sorry... I am," I gasped for breath, tears streaming down my face, exhausted from the weight of emotions.
"Humne kaha Banaras chaloge," she repeated the question, undeterred by my emotional state. "Aren't you angry about everything that happened?" I asked, rubbing my tired eyes.
"Banaras chaloge," she persisted, repeating the same question as if it held the answer to everything. "Haa, chalunga," I replied, wiping my nose, a mix of surrender and acceptance in my tone.
"Behtar kapde pack karo, maine tickets mail kar di hai, aur fir milte hain ab Banaras ki galiyon mein," she cut the call before I could say anything else.
Fearing Anika's relentless pursuit, I decided to slip away unnoticed in the dead of night and spend the night at the airport. To throw her off the scent, I would feign my presence in Chandigarh while secretly being in Banaras.
"I'll pack your bags so you can leave early in the morning," Shahneel offered, sealing the sentiment with a goodnight kiss on my cheeks.
"Pack them now; I'll leave in an hour," I instructed.
"Bubs, it's midnight, and with the flight in the morning, what will you do the whole night at the airport?" Her voice was laced with confusion.
"Just do as I say," I responded with grave seriousness.
"Okay, I will," she acquiesced, sensing the urgency and not pressing further. My tone carried a weight reserved for matters of security, a signal she understood well.
As I traced the contours of Chucky's laughter captured in the photo gracing my wallpaper, a wistful smile gently tugged at the corners of my lips. In that frozen moment, she radiated joy—an infectious energy that seemed to transcend the confines of the digital realm. The soft glow of the screen mirrored the warmth that her presence brought into my life.
In the quiet solitude of the room, I whispered, "Aa raha hu mein kudiye."
YOU ARE READING
Night of 25TH
FanfictionIn the intimate setting of his Chandigarh home, cricketing sensation Shubman Gill, the heartbroken heartthrob, opens the door to his past on the night of the 25th. Joining him on this emotional journey are his inquisitive niece and nephew, adding a...
