Vedant Shah.
Born into a family full of successful, self made entrepreneurs, struggling to make something equally meaningful out of his life.
Meera Modi.
A daughter from a household in which a woman holds respect only as a homemaker, fighting again...
It was twenty four hours later that Vedant finally took note of just what had happened.
He'd brought home someone else's bag!
Someone he didn't know.
Someone from the IPCC centre.
For heaven's sake, there were a hundred people there! How am I going to find my bag?
He'd known full well the sort of elaborate drama that would commence in the household if he informed anybody about the little act of carelessness of his; and so; chose to stay mum.
Instead, he decided to take the problem in his own hands and began rummaging through the bag that he could swear looked exactly like his own.
Colossal Kajal, lip balm....
He rolled his eyes.
.....Hairbrush! Seriously?
Band-Aids, two pens, a couple of hairpins, tissue papers....
Irritation egged at him.
No bus pass or something?
Clip board, IT question paper, IT book, a pink notebook, earpho-
Pink notebook?
A diary.
Whoa.
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