A Familiar Love- A Radhakrishn Retelling

18. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦

The next day, Krishn was nowhere to be seen. His presence, or the lack thereof, became painfully apparent as Radha moved through her routines—no sight of him at the bus stop, school, or dance rehearsals. The words she had thrown at him haunted her, guilt gnawing at her conscience. The day stretched on, filled with empty moments where she half-expected him to appear and declare it all a silly joke he was playing on her..

As evening turned into night, her heart grew heavier with each passing hour. She tried to dismiss her feelings as mere guilt, unaware that her soul was echoing Krishn's pain, for in truth, they were one.

Lying in bed, Radha stared into the darkness, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts about what had happened and what she might do next when sleep overtook her.

In the tempestuous embrace of the storm, Balram's hands gripped the steering wheel with white-knuckled tension. Rain hammered against the windshield, reducing visibility to a murky blur, as the car hurtled down the slick road. Lightning streaked across the sky, briefly illuminating the road like a stark, white flame. Suddenly, the harsh glare of headlights sliced through the downpour as a car emerged from the gloom, barreling toward them at a reckless speed. Balram's heart thudded in his chest, a silent drumbeat of impending doom. With a desperate twist of the wheel, he tried to swerve, but it was too late. The oncoming car slammed into them with the ferocity of a wild beast. Metal shrieked against metal, a screech of destruction that pierced the night. Inside the car, Yashoda's scream was a sharp contrast to the storm's howling wind. She braced herself against the backseat, her eyes wide with terror.

The impact sent Balram's car hurtling out of control as Krishn reached out to Yashoda in the back seat. The car skidded across the pavement and hit the curb with a force so strong it sent Krishn's body violently lurching forward and his head hit the dashboard with the seatbelt failing to restrain him. Yashoda, amidst the chaos, turned instinctively toward her children, her voice strained with panic as she called out their names, "Krishn! Balram!"

But darkness encroached upon the edges of his vision, his consciousness slipped away as his brother and mother yelled out his name over and over. "Krishn!" Yashoda cried of terror one last time.

Radha jolted awake, drenched in sweat. "KRISHN!" she screamed, the echo of Yashoda's cry mingling with her own terror in the silent darkness of her bedroom. Her heart pounded fiercely as she tried to calm her racing mind, the vivid nightmare made room for terror as her body shook.

"Radha?" her mother's voice floated in, filled with concern. "What happened, Radha?"

Her parents came rushing in, her mother quickly locking her in an embrace as she saw the dishevelled state of her daughter, "Ma, Krishn, Yashoda kaki, Dau, I saw them all" Radha managed to say between sobs, struggling to communicate the horror of her dream. Her father swiftly drew back the curtains, flooding the room with morning light, hoping to dispel the shadows of the night and comfort Radha.

"Shh, Radha, it was just a nightmare," her mother soothed, her voice soft but firm.

Radha pulled away, her eyes wide and filled with earnest fear. "No, Ma, it felt so real. I saw them in a car accident; there was so much blood. Krishn—he was hurt badly, Ma. It wasn't just a dream," she insisted, her voice desperate as she clung to her mother.

Her parents exchanged worried glances, sensing the intensity of Radha's distress. "Suniye," her mother turned to her father with a look of concern, "could you please go check on them at their house? Just to ease our minds?"

Her father nodded, understanding the gravity of Radha's distress and the need to reassure not just her but themselves that all was well. Radha's mother stayed behind, holding her tightly, whispering reassurances, trying to calm her inconsolable daughter as they waited for any news that could confirm that the nightmare was indeed just a dream.