Threads of Destiny

2-First impressions

Delhi

Barun was having dinner with his parents, their table filled with laughter as they reminisced about a trip to their ancestral village, Devalgeer, a year ago.

They recalled the day their car had broken down on a remote road, leaving them stranded while waiting for a mechanic.

Out of nowhere, a girl on a scooty appeared, her hair tied back and her movements confident. Sitting behind her was a man who seemed reluctant to acknowledge their presence, but the girl had no such reservations. She pulled over, parked her scooty, and approached them with a polite smile.

"What seems to be the problem?" she asked.

Barun's mother Rekha, always open to a friendly stranger, explained, "The car won't start, and we've been waiting for a mechanic."

The girl leaned in and whispered something to her companion, her tone teasing. "This is a fancy car; no wonder it couldn't handle our village roads." Turning back to the family, she offered, "Let me take a look."

With ease, she opened the car's bonnet and fiddled with the wires. "Try starting it now," she said to the driver, brushing her hands on her kurta.

To everyone's relief, the engine roared back to life. Impressed, Rekha smiled warmly and asked, "What's your name, dear?"

The girl grinned and replied, "Kali."

A burst of laughter erupted behind Rekha-it was Barun, amused by the simplicity of her name. She shot him a glare and quickly corrected herself, "Sorry, I mean Kalindi."

That was their first meeting. Barun hadn't made the best impression on Kalindi, who gave him a sharp, pointed stare that seemed to say she wasn't one to be taken lightly.

As the car finally roared to life, Barun found his gaze drifting to the girl, Kalindi, through the side-view mirror. There was something striking about her-her calm confidence as she fixed their car with ease. Draped in a vibrant green salwar suit, her dupatta flowed gracefully, swaying with her every movement. Just like the villagers around her, she exuded a vivacity in her actions, her emotions vividly painted across her face, each expression telling a story of its own. His gaze snapped to the figure sitting behind her on the scooty, a sudden jolt of interest igniting within him. The man leaned in, planting a tender kiss on Kalindi's cheek, a moment that seemed to hang in the air. But as he attempted to bridge the gap to her lips, Kalindi recoiled slightly, her eyes reflecting a mix of surprise and regret. The air was charged with unspoken words, leaving him both intrigued and unsettled.

Kalindi had been entwined in a relationship with Ravi, the man on the scooty, for five long years. Yet, beneath the surface of their shared laughter and stolen glances, a tide of hesitation crashed against her heart whenever the subject of intimacy arose. Occasionally, their fingers intertwined, sending a flicker of warmth through her, but the thought of crossing that boundary left her feeling vulnerable and uneasy. As they sped away, the wind whipping past them, Kalindi's thoughts spiraled into a whirlwind of doubt and longing.

Ravi was a banker, working in the same branch where her father, Ramakant, served as a clerk, possessed an air of ambition that was both alluring and daunting. She had confronted him about their future-especially their plans for marriage-and his nonchalant response, "I'll talk to my parents," echoed in her mind like a distant bell, devoid of commitment and sincerity. But rather than confronting her feelings, she tucked them away, hoping they would vanish. At 28, the weight of societal expectations pressed down on her, and the ticking clock of her life echoed ominously in her ears as she wrestled with her uncertainties.

Back in the present, Barun's eyes wandered around the dinner table, his mind elsewhere. His parents, Giriraj and Rekha, chatted about their day, oblivious to the turmoil brewing inside him. Rekha's suggestion to visit their village again was met with a dismissive wave of his hand. "I don't have time, Ma," he said, his tone firm but his eyes betraying a hint of desperation.

Giriraj's frown deepened, his eyes narrowing as he studied his son. "Barun, you're working too hard," he said, his voice low and even. "The company will survive without you for a few days. You need to take a break."

Barun's gaze dropped, his shoulders squaring as he struggled to maintain his composure. His parents didn't understand. They didn't know what it took to build the company into the conglomerate it was today. His father, Giriraj, had founded the company, but Barun was the one who had taken it to new heights. He had started his own entrepreneurial journey, and when his father fell ill, he had merged his company with his father's, shouldering the responsibility of caring for the family business.

"I know you're proud of what I've accomplished, dad," Barun said, his voice tinged with a mix of frustration and exhaustion. "But you don't understand the pressure I'm under. I have to keep everything running smoothly, ensure the company's growth and success."

His father nodded at him with understanding.

Rekha's expression softened, her eyes filled with a deep understanding. "I may not understand the intricacies of the business world, beta," she said, "but I do know that you're burning out. You need to take a step back, recharge."

As Barun reluctantly agreed to the trip, his lack of enthusiasm was palpable. But before he could further express his reservations, the doorbell rang, and Ishita walked in, her presence as unexpected was unsettling.

Barun's eyes narrowed slightly as Ishita caught the tail end of the conversation. Her eyes sparkled with amusement as she picked up on the opportunity, her voice dripping with sweetness as she offered to join them on the trip. Rekha and Giriraj, oblivious to the undercurrents, smiled warmly at the suggestion. "That sounds wonderful, but make sure you ask your parents first," Rekha said, her eyes shining with excitement.

Ishita's grin was mischievous as she winked at Barun, her eyes glinting with a challenge. Barun's expression remained neutral, but his mind was racing. What was Ishita's game? Why was she suddenly so eager to join them on this trip?

Barun didn't hate Ishita; he admired her in many ways. But the idea of marriage-being tied to one person for a lifetime-felt suffocating to him. He had watched his father bend to every whim of his mother, whether it was about family disputes, decisions involving relatives, or even the business.

Barun wasn't the kind of guy who played around with women, nor was he someone who let emotions cloud his judgment. He was a man ruled by his mind, not his heart-a trait he had inherited from his father. He had desires like any other man, and he never shied away from admitting them. But marriage? That was a different story. Whenever Ishita brought it up, he shut the conversation down with brutal honesty.

Lately, though, things were getting under his skin. Ishita had started targeting his family, especially his mother, weaving her influence subtly but surely. He could see it coming-a day when his mother would plead his case to his father, and the cunning businessman that his father was, he'd do whatever it took to make the marriage happen. It was a game Barun didn't want to play, but the pieces were already moving, and he felt trapped in a web spun by love, family, and expectations.

Whenever his mother brought up the topic of marriage, Barun's mind wandered to an unsettling thought: if he ever had to endure the institution of marriage, he'd need a wife who cared little for him. Someone content with material comforts rather than his time-because his time, he believed, was far more valuable than any woman he might meet, now or ever.

Marriage, to him, was nothing more than a societal obligation, a means to produce a child with legal sanction. Beyond that, it held no appeal. Love, companionship, shared dreams-these seemed like luxuries he neither desired nor believed in. In his eyes, marriage wasn't a bond; it was a transaction, and he had no intention of losing himself in the bargain.