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The city where literature, art and inspiration can be found at every corner. It was a city which had witnessed years of constantly transforming beauty and aristocracy at its finest. The ghats of Hooghly River were no stranger to stories that redefined love. In the city of poets, a new ballad of two souls had begun to transpire in a small para near Kalighat, where the dwellers were of as colorful mood as the neighborhood itself.
It was one such morning in the Chatterjee house, nothing out of the ordinary. Shayan strolled around in the balcony with his book in hand, oblivious to the commotion going on in the street. From what he could tell, a new family was moving in to the house right opposite theirs, and people as usual took more interest in it than they should. The previous tenants of the house left a few years back when the son had bagged a job in the Middle East. Ever since it has been empty until that day, when a certain mister Thakur shifted with his family. He was a retired government officer who had decided to settle in his own city after spending his whole life moving from city to city owing to his work. There were a few more pieces of information he had overheard from the women in the neighborhood, who had been discussing the family since morning. His mother was one of them as well.
"Shayan. Shayan! Joldi neeche esho! (Come down quick!)"
He closed his book as he rolled his eyes, but would dare not defy his mother. When he reached the courtyard, he could see his mother talking to a woman standing on the other side of the fence.
"This is my elder son, Shayan. He is in the final year of his masters." Shaila turned her gaze from him to the woman. "Shayan, this is Brinda Thakur, her family is the one that moved into that house this morning."
He obediently greeted his new neighbor.
"Her brother was such a reputed government officer you know? Very high rank in the office. Even my husband has worked...."
As the two woman drifted on with the conversation he tried to slip away without drawing attention. He was still holding onto the novel he was reading with all intentions of diving back into it as soon as he went upstairs, but before he could turn away he caught something at the corner of his eye that stopped him in his tracks.
It was a blurry silhouette of what looked like a young girl struggling to pick up heavy boxes. She was standing on the other side of the huge wrought iron gate of the house across the street. Possibly someone from Brinda ji's family. The dark shadows of the house that loomed over her face along with the huge cardboard boxes she was carrying had covered it and made it impossible for him to see her. A part of him wanted to go and help but another part of him refrained at the thought of coming off as intrusive. After a few good minutes of debate, the latter won. He slowly walked away and went back up to his room.
