Bittersweet Neighbours

The Sindoor Khela had begun. Women, draped in traditional red-and-white sarees, danced and laughed as they applied vermilion to each other's cheeks and foreheads, blessing each other with long, happy marriages. The air was electric with joy and nostalgia.

But on the far side of the crowd, things were far less serene.

Vaibhav Bajaj, having just returned from the business meeting, had barely loosened his collar before he was pulled aside by his BROTHERS, Kartik and Utkarsh, both covered in streaks of red powder and sweat.

"KARTIK!" Vaibhav shouted, lunging after him.

The chase was on.
Laughing, the three boys ran through the crowd, dodging aunties, side-stepping plates of sweets, and narrowly missing an idol-bearer.

And Vaibhav - in full sprint - collided.

Smack.

He slammed right into someone turning the corner from the other side.

Mihiksha.

She had been holding a brass thali, full of sindoor, sweets, and a small diya. The tray wobbled, spun - and tipped forward.

In that single, fateful second-

Vaibhav's hand instinctively reached out to stop the tray.

But instead - his palm struck the center of her forehead.

Right above the eyebrows.

Right where the sindoor should be.

Red powder exploded between them, dusting the air, staining both of their faces - but none more strikingly than Mihiksha Roy, who now stood, stunned, as a perfect streak of sindoor glowed across her maang.

It looked like he had married her.

Silence fell.

All the shouting, music, and laughter seemed to vanish into a vacuum.

Vaibhav blinked. His hand still hovered near her forehead. His breath caught in his throat.

And Mihiksha-

Her eyes were wide, dark pools of disbelief. The moment stretched too long.

She slowly touched her forehead.

Realization hit her like lightning.

Gasps rippled through the crowd. Like dominos, people turned, stared, whispered.

One aunty dropped her sweet plate. Another covered her mouth.

And then-

"HE PUT SINDOOR ON HER!"