Kuch Kuch Hota Hai

10. Main Yahaan Hoon Dekh Toh Zaara

'As he turns around and her eyes meet his, she lets go off the breath that she had been holding back. All the words she had practised to say when the moment arrived, dissolve at the tip of her tongue. All the things she wanted him to know escape her in the thick blanket of nostalgia that wraps itself around her.'

~ Faraaz Kazi, More Than Just Friends

Varun P.O.V

Raghu was an amazing dancer. Even despite the fact that he'd been selected for the camp, that probably should've surprised me given that his father hadn't exactly been a great dancer and, though Alia was an amazing dancer, she'd never been as amazing as her son. Her son, I was still having trouble processing that the boy was Alia's son. Now that had been one hell of a shock; walking through the lobby two days before camp started when the international campers began to arrive and finding myself face to face with Shaheen Bhatt. That had been the last thing I'd been expecting when I'd come to camp.

As much of a shock as that had been, I couldn't deny that seeing my old friend was nice. It'd been so long since I'd seen anyone from home and to see her, be able to reminisce and hear about the people I'd missed for so many years. And to be able to talk films properly. In the past twelve years, I'd taught dance and drama, shown kids the fine points of entertaining, planned lessons and had intensive conversations about the subjects but I'd not had the chance to talk about my favourite subject in the way I did now.

And beyond that, it was nice to have a friend. Sure, I referred to the people I worked with as friends but they weren't really, not in the sense that I would use the word back home. They were more acquaintances than anything else; people I spoke to at work and about work but not people I would speak freely with. Even my fiancé, Alina, was someone who I had met through work and who knew hardly anything about me, about my life before I had moved to the UK. For the first time in twelve years, I was able to speak about my life before, about my home and all the things I missed, the people I missed.

Surprisingly, we ended up spending a lot of time talking. Raghu tended to pick up the steps to his routine in way less time than I estimated so many of his practices were spent watching him rehearse while I spoke with his masi. Our conversations were all over the place, films and memories only a small part of them. She told me so many stories of Raghu and filled me in on all the things that had happened since I'd left but the one person I was most desperate to know about was the one she never mentioned and the one I never had the guts to ask about.

Eventually though, the subject had to be broached. Three weeks into camp, just after the semi-finals for our dance competition, I came to the realisation that I'd have to face Raghu's mother. The email had been sent out to inform her that her son had made it through to the finals and she was welcome to join us for the final and for the two weeks prior to watch him prepare and the last week of camp to see the project that his group would be presenting – the performance or film they worked on all summer. I briefly entertained the hope that she'd decline the offer but dismissed it as swiftly as it had come to mind. Alia would want to be there for her son, of that I was sure.

But I was woefully unprepared to face her so I decided to talk to Shaheen before she'd arrive – her reply to the email informing me she'd be there within less than forty-eight hours – to make sure I could be ready for whatever I would face when she arrived. Which is why, the day after the semi-finals, I found myself at Shaheen's room. She seemed a little surprised to see me but allowed me in all the same, gesturing for me to take a seat on the desk chair while she seated herself on the bed. 'So, Wednesday morning and you're here instead of enjoying your free time; I'd guess this isn't a social visit?' she asked.