Falling Into Oblivion

Chapter 8: Multitalented

Banhi and Dhriti stood outside Gaurav's house, the sun casting a warm glow over the neatly manicured lawn. They exchanged nervous glances before Banhi rang the doorbell. Moments later, a tall man with kind eyes and a gentle smile opened the door.

"Namaste," Banhi began, "hum Banhi aur Dhriti hain. Hum Gaurav ke liye notes dene aaye hain."

Gaurav's father smiled warmly. "Ah, Gaurav ne bataya tha ki tum log aane wale ho. Aao, andar aao."

They followed him into the cozy living room, filled with books and family photos. The smell of freshly brewed tea wafted through the air, creating a welcoming atmosphere.

"Maa, yeh Gaurav ke friends aaye hain," Gaurav's father called out.

A woman in her mid-fifties, wearing a simple saree, appeared from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. She had the same kind eyes as Gaurav's father. "Namaste, beta. Aao, baitho."

The girls sat down on the comfortable sofa, feeling slightly out of place in the warmth of the family home. Gaurav's mother handed them cups of tea.

"Toh, Gaurav kaise hai?" Dhriti asked, sipping her tea.

Gaurav's mother beamed. "Ab woh theek hai. Next week se college wapas jaane wala hai. Tum log ke notes ne uska bahut madad kiya."

Just then, Gaurav entered the room, walking with a slight limp but looking much healthier than before. His face lit up when he saw Banhi and Dhriti.

"Arre, tum log aaye!" Gaurav exclaimed. "Thank you so much for the notes."

Banhi smiled. "No problem, Gaurav. Hum bas yahi chahte the ki tum jaldi se theek ho jao."

As they chatted, the girls learned more about Gaurav. He showed them his room, filled with various musical instruments and art supplies.

"Tum painting bhi karte ho?" Banhi asked, amazed.

Gaurav nodded. "Haan, yeh mera hobby hai. Aur main guitar bhi bajata hoon."

Dhriti looked at the neatly arranged trophies on his shelf. "Yeh sab kisliye hain?"

Gaurav chuckled. "Yeh sab school ke competitions ke hain. Thoda bohot writing aur science mein bhi interest hai."

The girls were impressed. "Wow, Gaurav. Tum toh multi-talented ho!" Dhriti said.

Gaurav's mother joined them, carrying a tray of snacks. "Haan, Gaurav bachpan se hi bohot smart aur talented hai. Hum sab uspe bohot proud hain."

They spent the next hour talking and laughing, getting to know Gaurav better. As they were about to leave, Gaurav's father handed them a small box.

"Yeh tumhare liye," he said. "Ghar ka banaya mithai hai. Thanks for helping Gaurav."

Banhi and Dhriti smiled gratefully. "Thank you, Uncle. Gaurav ko jaldi theek hote dekhna humare liye hi reward hai."

As they walked back home, Dhriti turned to Banhi. "Mujhe laga tha Gaurav bas ek arrogant ladka hai, lekin woh toh sach mein bohot talented aur achha insaan hai."

Banhi nodded. "Haan, kabhi kabhi hum log bina jaane hi logon ko judge kar lete hain. Aaj maine yeh seekha ki humein sabko ek chance dena chahiye."

With this newfound respect for Gaurav, they looked forward to his return to college, knowing that they had made a true friend.

...

The sleek black car sped through the deserted streets, the sound of tires screeching echoing against the darkened buildings. Inside, Danish Choudhury and his friends, Ranveer, Pranav, and Surendra, laughed uproariously, the smell of alcohol thick in the air. Danish, gripping the steering wheel, swerved dangerously, narrowly missing a parked car.