"🌻Her Secret Diary, His Secret Admirer🌻"

16. "Left with nothing still celebrating!"

16. "Left with nothing, still celebrating!"

October 5, 2023

I was still lost in my sleep, lying on bed when someone pulled aside the dark blue curtains, letting morning night enter the room & greet me with a new chance. I was still lying on my stomach & the moment light from the window touched my face, I buried my face down into the pillow, in attempt to block those rays from reaching my eyes.

Suddenly, I heard a giggling sound of a women, jiggling of her bangles & anklets as she walked near me & I felt the mattress sank a little, making me realise that she settled down, beside me.

I felt soft fingers running through my hair & a soft smile curved on my face. I know it's a dream, after Maa's death whenever I came here, I felt someone's presence in morning, making me get up & whenever I used to open my eyes, no one was present to be found & this time I'll not willing to open my eyes.

Still I turned my face a bit & opened my eyes a little only to peek, but long black hair were resting on the pillow, making hard for me to see the face. As she was moving her head here & there to find something maybe, with this her earrings: her golden earrings giggling with her movement & her hair strand tickling my face, irritating me.

I asided the hair strands a little in irritation & caught the blurry or little glimpse of her face & to my suprise she wasn't Maa.

I was still processing when I heard her voice, "Wake up, Kuwarsa. Weren't you supposed to find me?".

With this I opened my eyes, getting up in attempt to find that girl whom I just dreamt of, whose voice I just heard. She was her.

Fuck, I'm messed up, my head is messed up.

It was her voice, Mehula Raghuvanshi called me Kuwarsa.

God, this isn't going how I wanted it to. She is taking control over my senses. Closing my eyes in frustration, I rubbed my palms on my face & sighed a little.

After shower, I went to my wardrobe only to find only Kurtas. Where are my other clothes? I wondered to myself then ignoring this, I just took out an white not white but a dull coloured white or maybe grey or I don't really know what colour it is. It had rajasthani green coloured work on it.

Reading her diary, I get to know that every shade of green are her favourite colours. So let's give it a try.

Wearing that, drying up my hair, I walked out to front wing. The moment, I walked outside to lawn, I saw Shantanu uncle standing there with Bentley State limousine of cobalt red coloured, making me realise it's actually the time.

Time to go back to Sinha mansion.

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As I entered inside the Sinha mansion, everyone were wearing white in the hall, my father, Ashok Sinha was sitting solemnly surrounded by family and close ones, his eyes filled with nostalgia and grief. Today marks the third anniversary of his wife & my Maa's passing. To honor her memory and seek peace for her soul, he has organized a Shanti Pooja, a traditional Hindu ritual for the departed.

The atmosphere is serene, with the gentle glow of diyas (earthen lamps) and the soothing fragrance of incense sticks wafting through the air. A havan kund (fire pit) sits at the center, where prayers and offerings are being made to the divine.

Ashok Sinha, flanked by other family members whom I actually don't really know except dadi, performs the rituals with reverence. The soft chanting of mantras and the crackling of the sacred fire create a sense of tranquility. As they offer oblations to the fire, they pray for the peaceful repose of their beloved matriarch's soul.