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talktoaspeck · 4 years

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A lazy summer afternoon in Allahabad, Aman is heading back home from his ISC coaching classes. Although it's just a 10 min walk , It often takes him over an hour to reach home. On his way back he pensively stares at the old buildings, and the new ones, and compares the two. He likes the old ones. They have so much history and character. He takes in the hustle and bustle of the busy market that he comes across next. He knows what grocery he has to buy— His mother gives him a list every morning before he leaves for school. He knows which shops he has to make stops at, where he may find the churmura wallah from whom he buys churmura everyday. Everything is as it is supposed to be be and he loves it. He is in no hurry to reach home. The repitition of these monotonous task is like the repitition of a beat in a melodious song: much welcomed. So much he drags his mundane chores at the market that one may think he doesn't even want to reach home.

He does not.

His reluctance to reach home as early as possible after a long day at school and coaching class does not stem from a lack of love and affection from his family. It is because of the opposite. His father, Shankar Tripathi, an agricultural scientist, who despite being busy working on a new strain of cauliflower which other than being an unappetising black in colour, he claims, is also maggot resistant, finds enough time to mollycoddle his only son. Aman's mother, Sunaina, whose full time job is to pamper her son,is predictably much, much worse.

A loud honk from behind startles Aman. He turns to a sight that immediately makes his heart jump out of his mouth. His brow is suddenly lined with beads of sweat and his pulse starts racing.

"Tripathi Jee, glad I found you. Look, new bike!," Chuckles a boy of his own age, sitting on a brand new motorcycle, revving it up to show off its brand new engine. "

It is Sarthak Khurrana, the coolest boy in his school according to both Aman and the school magazine's year end poll.

Sarthak Khurrana twists his body while being seated on his new bike and taps on the backseat, gesturing Aman to come sit. "Chaliye, Sangam ghuma laaye aapko, Tripathee Jee," he says.

Aman, ready to kill more time, jumps onto the backseat and off they go to Sangam. The holy Sangam, which is the confluence of the rivers Ganga and Yamuna, literally translates to union.

On the backseat Aman observes how weirdly Sarthak's ears jutt out of his head, almost at right angles, but they do not look bad on his face. "Nothing can look bad on THAT face," concludes Aman as he gets flustered at the thought. He isn't sure how he feels about Sarthak. They seldom interact at school. Whenever they do, it is usually Sarthak who initiates and he always calls him "Tripathee Jee". As a result whole school has started calling Aman that. Popular kids like Sarthak have that kind of power. Being referred to as "Tripathee Jee" makes him feel old and uncool. " Nobody, not even I, will ever call Sarthak "Khurran jee," thinks a smiling Aman.

They leave the city traffic behind. Aman stares at the way wind sweeps Sarthak's hair. The sky is a shade darker and the air is a touch cleaner and cooler. They take a turn to start on a worn out road that runs alongside Akbar's fort, and then turn onto a sandy kaccha Road that finally leads them to the sandy bank of Sangam.

They find a secluded spot where sonorous sound of bells being tolled at the nearby Hanuman temple, calls from mallahs beckoning tourists to go on boat rides, Screeches of hawkers selling Chaat, Pakoda, Samose, Churmura, Aloo dum etc. drown in the gusts of cool breeze that's rushing to them from the water body. There is barely any distinction between these sounds. They blend with the swishing of wind and form an ominous symphony that just hangs eerily in the background.

"It is peaceful here," says Aman awkwardly.

"So how did you like my new bike. Makkhan na?"

"Acchi hain. This red colour matches your skin tone. You look good on it."

"Hain?'

" I m..mean...this bike suits your personality," stutters Aman.

" Oh..Thanks, "smiles Sarthak and looks up in the air, "I can just hope Bhumi thinks it, too. I have been meaning to ask her out on a date for so long now. But ..tum jaantein ho ..her family is so conservative."

The Sky is blood red in the presence of the sun that is now slowly sinking below the horizon line. The river looks like someone has put its entire extent on fire. It is kind of dark now. These two men are laughing together over an anecdote when one suddenly leans over and rubs his finger behind the other man's ear and gently kisses him on lips.

The kiss lingers for a few second.

The other man suddenly breaks contact, pushes back, and then hits him in the face. He falls down.The other man kicks him to his heart's content and then leaves on his bike.

The one left behind is in pain. He is bleeding through his broken nose. He is scared. He feels so lonely. He takes his phone out and calls someone.

Devika's phone rings thrice before she answers.

"Hello, Kartik ..where are you ? Are you ok? ..hmm..You pinch your nose hard and don't move alright.. I'll be there in no time! "

She hangs up.

The sun is an orange ball hanging on the edge of the earth. Aman sees Rajni coming towards him on her bike, orange sun's reflectinons blazing on the goggles she is wearing. She looks like an angel to him. He has been crying.

" Tuh coaching Se Yaha kaise Pahuch Gaya..aur phir main hi milti hoon tujhe lift maangne ke liye? Jab man Kiya phone ganghana Diya. Number delete Kar mera," rambled Rajni.

"Sarthak got a new bike,"says Aman.

" Ayee ..Hot stuff Hain kya Yaha," She calls Sarthak Hot stuff while he calls her Goggle.

"Hot stuff date pe hain abhi with Bhumi.He wanted me to tag along so it doesn't feel like a date and madam Bhumi doesn't feel uncomfortable. He wanted me to be a third wheel. I said no."

"Ha ha ha," laughs Rajni, " don't worry he has broken many hearts before yours.Mine included. You will get over it"

" What do you mean "broken heart"..why would .."

"Whatever, Aman, " she speaks over him," chal peeche baith. let's go home," and kick-starts her bike to life again.

Meanwhile Kartik is staring at the burning waters of Yamuna river in Delhi. His broken nose has stopped bleeding but his shirt is soaked with blood through and through. An Activa Scooty stops behind him. He turns to find a concerned Devika with frozen packs and a first aid box.

" Baith isspe," she points toward Activa and Kartik follows her order. She starts attending to his wounds, " Kya zaroorat hain tujhe itna adventurous hone ki? pata toh Kar liya Kar acche se. Aur thoda apna horniness control main rakha Kar. India hain yeh.America Nahi," she rants mindlessly.

Kartik looks despondent. Devika holds his face in her hands, turns it to herself, and says," Cheer up, Kartik. I hate to see you like this."

"I am so alone Devika. Don't I deserve at least one happy ending?" He says and bursts into tears.

They both get on her Activa. Kartik's riding. They ride along the bank of the Yamuna River.

"The river Yamuna doesn't even look like a river anymore ," says Kartik.

" You should see it in Allahabad, Kartik. It is glorious there. It unites with the river Ganges there and forms the most revered place in the whole world," Says Devika as she grabs him from behind and rests her face on his back, " I'll take you there."

#jeetendra kumar #ayushmann khurrana #shubh mangal zyada saavdhan #smzs #smzs spoilers #karman #fanfic #fandom

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