Amsterdam To Ambala. ✈ ✔

Chapter I

I - Emotional Athyachaar!

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Spring is an absolute glee. It's a fizzy tonic, like a slowly overflowing bottle of bubbling joy. It has painted its beautiful colours onto the land, vanishing the clay-cold signs of winter. The blessed and pearly dew has been floating around on the fresh green leaves, melting the snowflakes. Like a beautiful fire, it has burnt the snow into oblivion. The buds are blossoming, the saplings loaded and tall and the lush green grass growing. The birds are chirping in their melodious voices again marking the beginning of their favourite time of the year. The clouds float happily along the sky like cotton candies in random shapes and patterns. The shadows are growing shorter as the sun continues its voyage across the depths of the pale blue sky. The scents of different flowers mixed with wet mud is pleasing to the senses.

In the heart of the Venice of the North, Amsterdam, the busy streets were already thronged by lady shoppers and their kids. Deafening noises of the scooters, cars and the traffic were heard. It was a bright and gay scene as people ran from here and there to reach their respective destinations.

Despite of all the hustle and bustle going on all around, there were two people who were peacefully sleeping with cotton balls in their ears, in their studio apartment without caring for what was going on in the world. The loud, buzzing sound of the alarm coming from the cellphone that lay forlorn and forgotten under his bulging belly was almost muffled but the vibrations did their work and startled him from his deep slumber.

Sunil Roy woke up as the happiest man on Earth, looking like a nocturnal who was getting to see broad daylight after his long winter slumber. His happiness knew no bounds today. It was the first day of his annual holidays. He quickly jumped out of his bed and jogged upstairs towards his son's room. He was the one and only son of Dr. Sunil Roy, who was always two steps ahead of his father in laziness and who was almost hitting the age of 24 and still single in a city like Amsterdam.

Being a single parent and a very liberal dad, the duo was not like a typical father and son but rather like the best of friends.

"Aman puttar gee, Would you like to do the honour of leaving your bed now? It's almost noon time."

Aman Roy, 24 years of age, the head graphic designer in a multi-national company by profession and a writer by heart. He was blessed with the most amazing looks that made it hard to figure out if he was really an Asian. Getting the British genes from his mother and Punjabi genes from his father, Aman turned out to be one of the most beautiful amalgam of the two. As far as his looks and accent were concerned, he surely took after his mother, dirty mud brown hair, shining blue eyes with small flecks of silver floating around and two adorable dimples peeking on his smily face always. Despite having such a face, Aman was ridiculously innocent for a 24 year old. In other words, he was an absolute geek.

"Amannn!" His father spoke loudly this time, almost tearing apart his ear drums. He squinted his eyes and scrunched up his nose.

"Dad please, let me sleep at least today. You know I haven't slept like this in ages." He groaned pushing his head deeper in the pillow and pulling the duvet all the way over his head and clutching it tightly.

"Aithay aa main tenu sulana." [Come here, I will make you sleep myself.] He spoke as he snatched the comforter from his clutched hands, causing a sudden wave of shiver run down his spine.

"Ughh Dad. I have already told you not to talk in that language. I cannot understand it. It gives me a headache." He spoke in his perfect British accent which no doubt he had inherited from his dear mother.