Turbulent Hearts

Chapter 2

The morning sun and the crisp air, found Saanvi already at Bashir’s doorstep. Her heart hammered a cheerful rhythm against her ribs as she knocked, the sound echoing through the quiet street.

The door creaked open, revealing a vision in pink: Bashir’s mother, draped in a flowing salwar kameez, the dupatta forming a diaphanous halo around her head. Her eyes, black, unlike the hazel as Bashir’s, crinkled at the corners with a warm smile.

“Saanvi! He has just woken up. He is probably taking a bath and getting ready. Come in, come in, there’s always a warm cup of chai for you.”

The woman ushered Saanvi inside, the scent of cardamom and ginger swirling around them. The small living room was a tapestry of memories, family photographs and photographs from school when Bashir had won a trophy for something and a medal for another and photographs of a younger Bashir in his Air Force uniform lining the walls, each one a story waiting to be told.

Saanvi settled at the table, her back ramrod straight despite her bubbling excitement. Soon, Bashir’s mother emerged with two steaming cups of chai, the milky brew fragrant and comforting. As they sipped, conversation flowed like the Chambal River in monsoon season, filled with news, updates, and a healthy dose of friendly gossip.

It was an odd sight, these two women coming from different worlds, yet sharing a bond as strong as any family. Saanvi had known Bashir since they were children, their paths intertwining in the dusty schoolyard the day he, a fearless knight in khaki shorts, had chased away a mean girl who’d taunted her during recess. That day, a friendship bloomed, slowly blossoming into an unbreakable bond over the years.

Suddenly, the door to Bashir’s bedroom creaked open. Bashir emerged, a vision in faded blue jeans and a black V-neck T-shirt, the telltale glint of aviator sunglasses peeking out from the pocket. He threw a brown leather jacket over his arm, a casual grace radiating from him.

Saanvi chuckled, a playful glint in her own eyes. “Dressed to impress, are we?”

Bashir flashed a cocky grin. “Not for you. You’re already impressed, I’m sure!”

Saanvi raised an eyebrow, ready to fire back, but something held her back. Maybe it was the warmth of the chai, the comfort of his mother’s presence, or perhaps the way the morning sun seemed to paint his hazel eyes with a golden spark.

Whatever it was, she held her tongue, a silent smile playing on her lips as they stepped out into the sunshine. Saanvi hopped onto the back of his bike, the familiar rumble of the engine a comforting song in her ears. As they rode off, Saanvi knew that this day, like every other spent with Bashir, held the promise of adventure, laughter, and perhaps, even more.

The throttle of the bike died down, indicating they had arrived at their destination. It was a small park, flourishing in abundance of green hues with here and there pretty flowers blooming in the morning sun, traces of the morning dews still alive on some. It was their place. It had always been their place.

They headed, walking side by side, to a grove, shaded by a large Banyan tree, it’s countless branches hanging down, a look of beautiful peace.

Time lost itself among their conversations that flowed, pieces of information and feelings stored away by both of them to be conveyed to the another when time permits their meet.

Time. It was always time who played with their relationship, cunningly yet ever so silently, threatening bonds to be broken but saving them in time too.

They were laughing about things that had stopped being funny long back but had remained funny for them. All because of Time.

“Bashir?” Saanvi called his name, suddenly the laughter around her and the grove dying down. He hummed a reply.

“There is something that I wanted to tell you.”

“Yeah? Tell me now.” He looked at her and smiled and those hazel eyes smiled at her too and that was a sight which melted her like ice cream in summers. She lost herself in those eyes.