Musings - RiKara One Shots

The Art Festival

Omkara Singh Oberoi stared at the glowing screen of his smartphone, his eyes scanning the email that had just arrived with a chime that pierced the quiet of his art studio. It was an invitation, not just any invitation, but one that had the power to jolt him out of his solitude. He read it again, the words etching themselves into his consciousness with a sense of disbelief. The annual Bareilly Art Fest, one of the most prestigious cultural events in the country, wanted him as their Chief Guest. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he pondered the absurdity of it all.

The sender's name was unfamiliar, yet the sender's enthusiasm was palpable. Omkara's fingers hovered over the touchpad, unsure of what to type in response. He was flattered, but also wary of the spotlight that came with such a title.

"You're going, aren't you?" his brother, Rudra, peeked into his phone, his voice carrying the unmistakable note of curiosity. He had always been his confidant, the one who knew his fears and his aspirations. Rudra's eyes searched his face as he nodded, the email still open in front of him.

"Yeah," he murmured, "I guess I am."

The decision made, he began to pack. His heart raced at the thought of leaving the sanctuary of his studio for the chaos of Bareilly. Yet, he knew that this was an opportunity he couldn't refuse. There was this unfamiliar feeling, that didn't let him refuse him.

As the taxi weaved through the bustling streets of Bareilly, Omkara couldn't help but feel like an intruder in this vibrant tapestry of life. The smells of spicy street food, the cries of hawkers peddling their wares, the honks of impatient rickshaws, and the laughter of children playing in the narrow alleys formed a symphony that was both overwhelming and exhilarating. He took it all in, his senses heightened by the unfamiliarity of it all.

When he finally arrived at the venue, the art fest was in full swing. A kaleidoscope of colors and sounds greeted him as he stepped out of the vehicle. The ground was a canvas of installations and sculptures, each telling a story that was uniquely its own. He took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of paint and clay mixed with the sweetness of the blooming flowers that lined the pathways. The excitement was palpable, and the anticipation grew with each step he took towards the entrance.

As he stood admiring the place, he felt a slight push from behind. Before he could react, he saw the lady who had pushed him was about to fall, her foot twisting. Without a second thought, he reached out and held her in his arms, steadying her against the unseen obstacle. She looked up at him, her eyes wide with surprise and a hint of embarrassment. Her cheeks flushed a warm shade of pink that matched the dupatta that adorned her simple yet elegant salwar kameez.

"Thankoo," she murmured, her voice a soft melody that resonated through the cacophony of the festival. Omkara helped her regain her balance and took a step back, his hands lingering in the air for a second too long.

The children around them giggled, their innocent laughter bubbling like a fresh spring. Gauri Kumari Sharma, the owner of the captivating eyes and the warm smile, looked down at the ground, trying to hide her embarrassment. She was playing a game of tag with her younger friends, her laughter echoing through the air as they darted in and out of the crowd. The joy on her face was infectious, making even the sternest of onlookers crack a smile.

"Sarry Sehri Babu," she said again, her voice now tinged with a playfulness that mirrored the spirit of the art fest. "Humne aapko dekha nahi."

He chuckled, "No harm done." He couldn't help but notice the way she interacted with the kids. Her eyes sparkled with the same energy as theirs, and she moved with a grace that belied the chaos around them. The children were like a swarm of butterflies, their laughter a symphony that seemed to dance around her.