Inquest (Completed)

Impulse?

Dhruv didn't want to go to a doctor for a small random uncomfortable feeling, especially not to a psychiatrist, or psychologist, or whatever that old-man was. Dhruv himself was good at counselling, he had helped decide a friend of his whether he wanted to study Economics or Accounting. It was very easy, Dhruv wondered why anyone would actually even study it as a main subject. He didn't need to go to this doctor - 'If he is a doctor' he said to himself -  and he certainly didn't want his parents to see him holding a Psychologist's visiting card, 'What will they think!' thought he. Then he kept the card inside a pocket in his wallet, well-hidden. 

"Dhruv!" mom was calling him for dinner, and his heart skipped a beat when he heard mom open the door to his room. In a swift moment, the wallet was kept aside and Dhruv held a novel in his hand, open. 

"Come, dinner is waiting!"

"Yes, ma, coming..."

___

One week passed. Today was the last day of college, before Diwali vacations. The time was around nine in the morning. Dhruv came out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist the only piece of cloth on him. He took time to get ready as always. He opened his almirah and looked at his neatly assorted clothes, wondering whether a blue t-shirt will look good with a black jeans-trousers or whether he should wear light green with blue-jeans. After some (quite a lot of) time, he decided to go with the latter. He looked at his watch, he only had five minutes to eat and leave [won't happen]. "Ma, quick, I'm getting late."

Mum brought the food in his plate and handed it to him. He took time to eat. Then unplugged the charger from his phone. Opened Whatsapp, and saw Krupa online, and texted her 'Wassup?' [He's already getting late! Seriously!]. And she replied 'On the way to college', and he said, 'Me too...'

'Are you free after one?', she asked.

'No, my lectures only get over at half-past two.'

'Okay.'

'Why?'

'I asked in case you were free, you could come to Matunga, and I could take you to try out the famous Samosa-dish here...'

Dhruv mentally slapped his forehead, for so clearly declining a could-be-date with the love of his life. But his parents were watching him, so he couldn't actually face-palm. He left home and texted Krupa while walking on the way to the bus-stop.

'I'll try to come,' he said.

'Okay.'

Dhruv kept the phone in his pocket. He reached the bus stop, soon caught a bus. Dhruv's First-Class Pass had expired yesterday, so he had to buy a (Second-Class) ticket [Yeah! Welcome to Mumbai Suburbs]. The fare to Vidyavihar station was same as the fare to Dadar station so he bought a Dadar-return ticket.

A train was waiting on the first platform, and Dhruv stepped into the middle second-class-compartment.

Travelling always gave him time to introspect, so even if it tired him as hell and he didn't particularly enjoy the physical aspects of it, he enjoyed the time he got to think [but it also means he overthought about many things, a lot]:

'I can't believe Krupa is actually planning meeting up with me! Why is she taking so much interest in my life? Obviously she doesn't like me, or does she? No, I'm being stupid. But this really is the second time she invited me; once could be purely chance, but twice isn't mere coincidence. Maybe she is feeling pity for me because she knows I had a crush on her during school... Why am I thinking like this? Why is it so hard for me to accept that she's very generally inviting me. Maybe I should've told her yes and skipped my lectures. No, that's wrong, I can't skip lectures. Maybe Krupa wants my help for something: I was pretty good in Maths during school, maybe she wants me to help her with maths, since she herself has entered the commerce field.'