Prem Kahaniyaan

3.

The next morning, Ishana awoke to the soft hum of the village starting its day. The air was still crisp, and a gentle breeze carried the scent of earth and flowers into her room. She lingered in bed for a few minutes, letting the calm wash over her. Despite her initial resistance to being in Madhavpur, there was a peaceful rhythm to village life that was starting to grow on her.

She dressed quickly, her mind already focused on her meeting with Vedant later that day. Her curiosity about him had only deepened since their brief exchange, and she was eager to learn more about his art, his life, and what drove him. But for now, she had a few hours to explore before their interview.

Stepping out of her guesthouse, Ishana found herself drawn to the marketplace, where the village’s vibrant energy was in full swing. Stalls lined the narrow streets, overflowing with colorful fabrics, handcrafted jewelry, and baskets of fresh produce. The villagers moved about with ease, greeting each other with smiles and lively conversation. Ishana walked slowly, absorbing the sights and sounds, her camera clicking every few steps.

As she passed a stall selling traditional Rajasthani textiles, an elderly woman called out to her. "Beta, come have a look! These fabrics are made by the women of our village. You won’t find work like this anywhere else."

Ishana smiled and approached the stall, admiring the intricate designs. The fabrics were vibrant, adorned with geometric patterns and mirror work that sparkled in the sunlight. She ran her fingers over the soft cloth, marveling at the craftsmanship.

“They’re beautiful,” she said sincerely. “Do you make these yourself?”

The woman beamed with pride. “Yes, my daughter and I work on these together. It’s a tradition passed down through generations. Each piece tells a story.”

Ishana’s journalist instincts kicked in. “I’m here to cover the festival for a magazine. I’d love to include a section about the artisans of Madhavpur. Would you mind if I took a few photos and asked you some questions?”

The woman nodded eagerly, and for the next hour, Ishana immersed herself in the stories of the village’s craftspeople. She learned about the weaving techniques, the symbolism behind the patterns, and the sense of community that came with creating these beautiful pieces. The experience left her with a deeper appreciation for the village’s way of life—one that valued artistry, patience, and tradition.

By the time she made her way back to her guesthouse, the sun was high in the sky, signaling that it was nearly time for her meeting with Vedant. Her heart raced a little as she thought about it, unsure of what to expect. Vedant had been enigmatic during their first encounter, and she couldn’t help but wonder if he would open up to her this time.

When she arrived at the agreed-upon meeting spot—a small clearing near the village’s main square—she found Vedant already waiting, seated on a low stone wall, his sketchbook in hand. His focus was intense as he worked, completely absorbed in whatever he was drawing.

Ishana hesitated for a moment, not wanting to interrupt him. Something was mesmerizing about watching him work. His hand moved with precision, yet his strokes were fluid as if he were channeling some deeper emotion onto the page. She stepped closer, careful not to startle him.

Vedant looked up at her arrival, his expression calm but guarded. He closed his sketchbook and stood up. "I see you’re punctual," he said, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

"I try," Ishana replied, smiling back. "I didn’t want to miss the chance to see your art up close."

Vedant gestured to the clearing. "Shall we walk? I find it easier to talk while moving."