"Milind, hold it from that corner," Avanti instructed from the other side as she started to drop the string lights down the railing. It was Choti Diwali, and after lunch, the three of them had climbed up to decorate with lights. Divit was busy joining the plugs, while Avanti and Milind untangled the lights and aligned them.
"Bhai, the third one isn't illuminating," Milind said, bending down to unplug it and then plugging it in the other way. "Now it's working," he declared, but the light turned off the next moment.
"Wait." Divit dropped the electric tape and walked over to Milind, holding a matchstick. Bending down, he fixed the plug properly by inserting the matchstick into the empty space on the board.
Avanti took another string of lights and climbed onto a stool to fix them on the top floor. As the stool shook, Divit rushed to help hold it steady. "What's the rush? Milind and I have it under control," he questioned.
"So?" Avanti snapped, standing on her toes and securing the light onto the iron nail.
"Everyone should work within their reach," Divit replied, avoiding eye contact with her.
Milind stifled a laugh, finding the scene amusing.
"In that case, you should quit your job and start cleaning fans instead," Avanti retorted in a hushed tone. "Besides, the view comes in handy."
Jumping down from the stool, she winked at him. Divit tried to keep a straight face but closed his eyes as he heard Milind laugh.
"What?" Divit turned to his brother.
"Nothing," Milind feigned innocence. "But she's got a point." He winked at Avanti.
Avanti winked back. "Your brother seems smart, unlike you," she teased Divit.
"I'll show you just how smart I am tonight. Until then, have fun," Divit murmured huskily, leaning close to her ear, leaving her wanting more.
As Milind faked a cough, Divit ignored him and walked away, heading down the stairs.
In the kitchen, Gayatri was working while Divit came downstairs. He walked to the fridge, took out a bottle of water, and sat in front of the counter on a stool.
"What's cooking?" Divit asked Gayatri, taking a large sip from the bottle.
"Gujiya and mathri," Gayatri replied, kneading the dough with gentle hands.
Divit nodded, sliding out his phone to check his mailbox.
"She seems like a nice girl," Gayatri initiated after a few minutes, as she mixed the filling for the gujiya.
As the topic caught his attention, Divit put his phone away and looked up at his mother. "You like her?" he asked hopefully.
"It's too early to say, but she seems nice. She's pretty, educated, and active. It also appears that she comes from a good background, so..."
Divit smiled. "I'm glad you like her, Mom."
"Not yet," Gayatri replied, placing another pan on the stove to prepare tea. "But I'm trying. Does her family know?"
"Know about what?"
"About the two of you, of course."
"Well," Divit paused, staring at her for a moment before speaking up. "Her father passed away when she was young, and her mother also passed away a few years ago. Although she has a sister, I'm not sure if she knows the details."
"So, she's on her own?" Gayatri asked in surprise, as she mixed a glass of milk while the tea leaves boiled.
"Yes," Divit nodded.
"Wow, times have indeed changed. Independent women breaking the chains of patriarchy beautifully," Gayatri remarked.
Divit smiled. He had always admired his mother's progressive mindset. She was an educated woman who had supported him during crucial times, even when his father had given up on him because he insisted on pursuing journalism. It had been a shock at that time, and it hurt to see his father proven right eventually. Divit's own worldview seemed delusional back then. He stopped dreaming and started working, for he had a family to support, a father to provide medical care for, a mother to keep safe, and a brother with dreams—dreams that Divit wanted him to continue nurturing.
There was a purity in dreaming, even if those dreams were never realized. People always dream—some with open eyes, some with closed hearts. Some dream of a better world, while others dream of a better life. But everyone dreams. They dream of dreams, cry over stars, kiss roses, and pry for scars. Life goes on, with shaken beliefs colliding against rumbling deals, dimly lit with satisfaction and scarred happiness that seems too tempting to be extinguished by madness.
"Sanjay, would you like some tea?" Gayatri turned to her husband, who was wheeling his chair into the living room to get a newspaper.
Divit was brought back to reality. His gaze followed the paths traced by his father's wrinkled skin. His father had been a dreamer too, but one accident had confined him to a wheelchair. To the world, he had lost his legs, but for Divit, he had lost so much more—his confidence, his ability to speak his mind, his strong aura that had challenged societal norms with unsung bravery.
All that remained was a man crippled by fear, hiding behind a cool facade, dealing with everything in silence, and succumbing to the chaos echoing in his heart.
And for Divit, he had lost a friend—his father.
His father became a distant figure. They had grown apart, too distant for Sanjay to bridge the gap. And truthfully, Sanjay had never made the effort. He found solace in seeing his son safe, alive, and breathing. It pained him to witness Divit suffer in silence during the initial days, but as he had expected, Divit emerged stronger, burying the pain of shattered dreams in a corner of his heart left untouched.
It wouldn't be unfair to say that Sanjay was selfish in choosing his son's path, denying Divit the chance to choose his own life. Divit continued to stare absentmindedly at his father, his thoughts traversing the dwellings of the past.
"Do you want to say something?" Sanjay asked, his eyes fixed on the newspaper.
"No," Divit shook his head, snapping out of his thoughts.
While reality seemed welcoming, Divit wondered if it was the right time to reveal the truth to his parents. After Diwali, it would be challenging to discuss Avanti and her past. The house would be filled with guests, and he didn't want his parents to feel betrayed for not being informed about the situation earlier.
Divit wanted his parents to like Avanti for who she was, not for who they assumed her to be.
"Maa, there was one more thing I wanted to talk to you about," Divit started, looking at Gayatri, making sure he was loud enough for Sanjay to hear too.
"Then talk." Switching off the stove, Gayatri poured the tea into the cups.
"Avanti is a divorcee. She got separated from her husband three years back."
Startled, Gayatri stilled as a few drops of hot tea fell on the side of her thumb.
"Maa, careful." Divit quickly pulled her hand away.
Placing the pan back, Gayatri stared at her son, unblinking. Her mind went blank as she tried to swallow this newfound information.
Sanjay stilled too. For a moment, he stopped reading, but then, as a minute passed, he adjusted his glasses and continued reading. His eyes were on the paper, while his ears remained attuned to the conversation. He acted nonchalant about the matter.
