Memories to Grave

Chapter 2: Our First Meeting

Vishwa read the book titled 'Daisy's Hope'. "Ahh, I'm already fed up. My brain isn't working anymore. Should I start now or just go to sleep?" he muttered to himself while flipping the pages.

Vishwa's mom knocked on the door and asked him to come for dinner.

"I don't want to!" Vishwa shouted.

His mom got angry. "Go ahead, die of hunger. Who will be responsible for whose life?" she said, then went to her room, giving up on him. Moms are just moms—no matter how much we fight, they still care for us.

Vishwa was conflicted, wondering if he should read now or some other time, still flipping the pages. Eventually, he reached the start of the story and began reading.

Author's POV in the book:

Year 2014:

I was bored at home and decided to visit our club. My dad was busy dealing with some customers. I didn't disturb him and instead went to a table with a book and a pen to work on my novel. I wanted to become a writer. For a long time, I had wanted to write an interesting novel, had many genres in mind but was confused about which one to pick. Struggling with my thoughts on where to start and what to write, my dad noticed my visit, approached me, and asked why I had come. "You could have just stayed at home," he said.

"I was bored at home and came for a change of scenery," I replied.

"Want some juice?" he asked.

"Yes, yes," I replied.

"Did you inform your mother that you came here?" he asked on his way to get juice for me.

"Yes, I did," I said.

I saw a customer who often came to our club go straight to my father. They greeted each other. My father, holding the juice, saw me coming and handed it to me. The air was filled with conversations and light music. Taking a sip of juice, I held my pen, ready to write something.I watched as some people came and others left, some busy talking.The light music was creating a relaxing ambiance. Meanwhile, I busied myself writing some cringe lines.

Someone came and asked, "Can I sit here, or is the table reserved?" It was a sweet female voice. Without looking up, I said, "Yeah, you can have a seat." She called a waiter and ordered a drink. I finally looked up at her. She was beautiful. No, wait something seemed off. It was odd to see someone in a club wearing a saree and full jewelry. Her outfit didn't match the club's atmosphere—these were all the thoughts floating in my mind.

Suddenly, I blurted out, "Did you run away from a wedding?"

Her eyes widened. "No, but once upon a time, that was my dream," she replied.

"You look so out of place," I said.

She started at me. "What?"

"Your saree—it doesn't fit the club's vibe. Look around; people are gossiping about you," I said.

"Just ignore them," she replied, sipping her drink.

I decided to ignore her and focus on my work. After a while, she asked, "What are you doing?"

"Writing a novel," I replied.

She took my book and started reading my lines:

"He came, grabbed my hands, hugged me. 
A Hot Gangster kidnapped her. 
I asked to play music. 
I'm staring while he is eating a burger, my mouth watering. 
She punched him in the eye. 
Milky is on her way. 
He took a cab and left..."

"Haha... What kind of story writing is this?" Not one line is related to the other Vishwa laughed loudly while reading and continued...

She laughed hysterically. "What are these lines? Not one relates to the other." I forcefully took my book back. "I'm just putting my thoughts on paper. I haven't started writing properly yet."

"Haha, okay, okay. How old are you?" she asked.

"Fifteen," I replied.

"Girl, you're fifteen."

"Why, don't I look like it?"

"No, no, not that. You're just fifteen and should have big dreams like becoming an engineer, a businesswoman, or getting into sports. Why are you planning to end up as a writer?"

"I always make scenarios in my head. That imagination excites me a lot. So, I decided to become a writer."

"Oh, I see! What's your name?" she asked.
"Mayuri," I replied.

"Wow, what a pretty name. Can I tell you a story? Since you plan to become a writer, this story might help you in your future works."

"Will it be interesting?" I asked.

"You should say that at the end of it, whether it's interesting or not," She said.

She began the story: 

"I was born in a village near the Krishna River."

"Wait, is this your story?" I interrupted.

"Yes, maybe more like many stories."

"Are you writing it down?" she asked.

"Yes, you said it might be helpful in the future. Go ahead, please."

"I was born in a village near the Krishna River..."

"I already wrote that line 🙄"

"Please don't interrupt."

"Hehe, sorry."

"I was the only daughter of my parents, named Sravani."

"So your name is 'Sravani'? I interrupted again."

"Yes, that's right," she continued.

"I have an aunt and uncle, and they also have one daughter. My cousin and I had a two-year age difference. She wasn't just a cousin to me; she was more like a best friend. We share everything."

I think it was the year 2012. My cousin and I were helping my father and uncle with the farming. Our fields were near a lake. After that, we both sat near the lake for some relaxation.

"My cousin said, 'I got a call from my best friend yesterday.'

"So you had fun talking with her."

"Of course, it's been a long time since we talked."

"I noticed a cardboard and a piece of charcoal to my right. I picked them up, the other side of the board was plain, and I started drawing on it. My cousin continued her conversation, walking around. I was absorbed in my drawing, only catching pieces of her words.

"'So what I'm saying is...,' she looked at me. 'What are you doing? You're not listening to me. I'm telling you something very important.'

"As she tried to drag the cardboard from me, her leg slipped, and she started falling into the lake. I tried to save her, grabbing her right hand while she held the cardboard with her left. We were both off balance, with me bending over, facing the ground.

"'He finally came,'  Sravani said.

"'What, what?' her cousin asked, breathing heavily.

"Suddenly, a man came and pulled her cousin. The cardboard fell to the ground. Her cousin was saved.

"'Ahh, thank you so much for saving me,' she thanked him, still breathing heavily.

"‘Who are you?’ her cousin asked him.

‘Are you Sravani?’ he asked her back."

"Yes, that's me. Why?" her cousin said looking at both him and Sravani.

"'Nice to meet you. I'm Raghu.'"
 

                            Will be continued...
*********************************
                              
            Thank you for reading

How was that? Did you find it interesting. Please let me know in the comments section. Also please give a star if you like it and share with your  with buddies 🙏 🥺

Keep supporting me. I'll try to make it more interesting chapter by chapter. Your support gives me a hope to write more chapters ❤️

My Instagram ID : njwritings_24

Please follow and support 🙏