Ishan pov:-
On the nets, Shubman behaves very strictly towards Ishan.. but when they would chat on WhatsApp, his entirely different persona would emerge... Soft, poetic, and filled with verse..
As soon as Ishan woke up at 4:30 AM, he instinctively reached for his phone to check for the blue tick, indicating whether his messages had been read. There are several message from night one caught his eye - a message from his little sister, Somya
" bhaiya offline ho matlab exam ki taiyari chal rhi h ???"
And his ma's message
"Beta sports kota me lg jaye gi naa noukari?"
Leaving all this he went to Shubman's message
"Sorry kal late tumhara message dekha"
"Kaise ho?
This is the life Ishan wanted, where Shubman is right in front of him, every night before he goes to sleep's and every morning after woke up....
Ishan kicked the scooter to life, and after two attempts, it roared to star .. It was 5 o'clock in the morning... The streets were empty... Through the open windows, he could hear the sounds of Hindustan awakening - the chanting of mantras by an elderly dada ji, the call to prayer from a nearby mosque, the creaking of a bicycle tied to a street vendor's cart, and the soft thud of newspaper vendors distributing their daily fare...
Every morning, every sound reminded Ishan of his father... Ever since he moved away from his mother and father, these small things are the only reason to remember his parents ...
Girls often get drawn to those who unknowingly remind them of their fathers. Ishan found some of Shubman's traits reminiscent of his own father... but lately, his father was displeased with him.
Ishan's teacher-father was set to retire from the town this year, but he didn't want his son to pursue cricket. He didn't want Ishan to run around on the cricket field, getting injured. Instead, he wanted his son to secure a good job and lead a safe life, especially since his retirement would bring financial constraint.....
But after much contemplation and introspection, Ishan decided to follow his heart and do what made him happy.. He wanted to make his papa's wishes come true by becoming cricketer... He want to play for India.. His Nation
......
Both the father and son were right in their own places.. We often fail to see things from another's perspective.. Hence unable to see life and it's questions.. From their point of view..
Ishan had been selected for the Under 23 trials.. and now he had made it to the division team.. The next step was just one step away.. The state team selection was just a month away.. And he was so confident that he would make it.. He was convinced that the path ahead wouldn't be difficult..
But there was a puzzle that troubled him - the vast distance between morning Shubman and evening's Shubman.. Why did they seem like two different people? In the evenings, Shubman would become a sharayar ... A funny person while in the morning he would only scold me.. Khadush!!
"Ishan apna foot work dekh rhe ho!?? Kal kya kaha tha maine!! Just look at where your right foot is!!??NONSENSE"
And in the evening
"सात समंदर पार चलेंगे, मैं और मेरा कवभ, कभी आँखों के रोशन दान से हमें देखना, आप कभी"
Ishan never mention the evening shubman with morning shubman..
Thinking that maybe Mr kadush might also start coming here..
He write something and again start waiting for that kambakht blue tick.. Like its not the mobile screen but Shubman's face .. And he asked the question.. And waiting for Shubman's answer..
Sometimes he'd appear online, but without a blue tick.. Other times, he'd vanish from online altogether.. And occasionally, it would say 'typing'.. Ishan would imagine Shubman's fingers moving on his keypad.. But then, nothing would come through, and he'd go offline.. Leaving Ishan frustrated and simmering with anticipation..
"Ye kya likh likh ke mitata rheta h .. Dil ki baat kehta kyu nhi!!! "
What a wonderful thing... how many letters have been written and erased in the name of love.. for centuries, how many letters have been written, read, and rewritten.. how much ink has been spent on writing and rewriting.. how many papers have been folded and tossed away.. and in this world of blue ticks, those written words are erased.. those beautiful moments of expressing love, lost forever...
Ishan asked one day
Kya aap sach much itne romantic ha??
Shubman:
Bachhpan se aisa hu .. 😊
Ishan:
Mai apke baare me sab kuch janana chahta hu.... Saab kuch
Shubman:
Jaise ki mujhe katahal se nafat h
Ishan :
H
aa ye bhi
Aur???
Shubman:
Pyaar kiya h tumne??
Ishan :
Nhi... ( hesitated for a moment..And answered)
Aab tak to nhi ..
Shubman:
Kabhi kr ke dekhana shayar kudh baan jauge
( Ishan became breathless for a moment and then typed..)
Ishan:
Pyaar h aapko kisi se??
Shubman:
Nhi
( wrote after taking a moment)
Aab nhi .. Pehla pyaar tha
Ishan:
I don't know.. Mujhe bhut jealous saa ho rha puchte hu but..
Pehla pyaar bhut khubsoorat hota h naa??
Shubman:
Nhi..
Ye writer's kaa banaya hua chhut h
Dusra pyaar sabse khubsoorat hota h.
Hello guys
Thank you for the love and support that you gave me..here is the next chapter.. Feel free to point out my mistakes.. Because I'm totally new to this writing world.. I'll try to make it bit longer.. Please cooperate with me
Best regards..
Exception🌼
