༄°.🍂.ೃ

It was a slow, lazy afternoon in the Sharma house.

Out in the verandah, the old ceiling fan made a tired creek-creek sound. The smell of hot ghee was still flowing out of the Rasoi.

Piyali was sitting cross-legged next to Ma, shaping warm Bondi ladoo in her palms, the plate between them was slowly filling.

When a bike’s thuk-thuk-thuk broke the quiet silence. The sound grew louder, until it came right up to the gate.

"Arre, Ajay beta"

Ma called out, glancing up from her hands.

(Oh Ajay, son)

Her voice had a fondness. Ajay, Samar’s childhood friend, from school days to  business now, they have been together through everything.

He pushed the gate open and came in like this was his own house.

Piyali looked up for a moment. Ajay was tall, broad-shouldered… though not as much as Samar.

His smile was the same as always, wholesome and big.

“Namaste, Maaji!” He bent to touch Ma’s feet.

(Greetings, Ma’am)

Ma smiled wide, blessing him happily.

Then his eyes fell on Piyali. His grin turned warmer.

“Arre, Piyali… kitne din baad dikh rahi ho.”

(Ah, Piyali… seeing you after so many days.)

Piyali gave a small, polite smile, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“Ji Namaste…” she said politely.

(Greetings…)

Ajay chuckled.

“Arre, tumse milke toh hum khush ho gaye. Ab toh Samar ke ghar roz aana padega.” His voice had genuine happiness.

(Arre, meeting you has made me so happy. Now I will have to come to Samar’s house every day.)

Piyali gave a faint laugh, not sure what to reply. Her eyes dropped back to the ladoo plate.

From the inner doorway, Samar walked out. His steps slowed as his eyes caught the scene in front of him. He didn’t say anything at first, just stood there for a moment, his jaw set a little tighter.

“Chal, andar” his voice finally came, not loud but steady.

(Come inside.)

Ajay looked over his shoulder at Piyali.

“Chaliye, phir milenge.”

(Alright, we will meet again.)

Before he could add more, Samar’s hand came to rest at the back of Ajay’s neck, gentle but heavy enough for Ajay to feel the heat and guided him toward his own room.

Piyali didn’t think much of it. Maybe Samar just didn’t like hanging around in front of her. She pressed another warm ball of mixture between her palms, ghee shining on her fingers.

But a thought still came, Maybe… he really doesn’t like me. Then why would he give me the choice to leave or stay?

She shook her head, trying to brush it off But

the doubt didn’t go.

✿⁠  

Evening

The sun was almost gone when Kittu came walking down the narrow muddy path to Piyali’s house, her payal jingling as she took every step.

She didn’t bother knocking on the gate,  just hopped over the small space and landed right in front of the verandah where Piyali was folding clothes taken out from the rope hung in the verandah.

“Piu..Sun” she said, breathless.

"Mela laga hai gaon mein..Do hafte ke liye hi hai”

(Piu.. Listen! There’s a fair at the end of the village.Only for two weeks)

Piyali straightened, her hands still on the half-folded sari. “Mela?”

(Fair?)

Her tone held curiosity.

“Haan..Chalein?”

Kittu’s eyes were already sparkling, as if she could smell the jalebis from here.

(Yes! Shall we go?)

Piyali glanced towards the inside of the house. “Kittu… Maa ko kaise manayengey?”

(Kittu… who will convince Ma?)

Kittu’s grin widens. “Aare kyu chinta karti hai...Main hoon na.”

(Oh why do you worry so much...I am here, aren’t I?)

And before Piyali could say anything, Kittu

Walked inside to talk to Ma and Baba.

She came back out five minutes later, happy.

“Maan gaye! Bas ek shart pe…”

(They agreed! Just on one condition…)

Piyali’s brow lifted. “Kya?”

(What?)

Kittu smirked, Making suspense. “Samar Bhaiya bhi saath jaayenge.”

(Samar brother will go too.)

✿⁠ 

When Kittu announced the plan, Samar didn’t even look up from checking the jeep tires.

“Main toh nahi jaunga itni bhid mein… tumlog ko jana hai toh jao.”

[I am not going in such a crowd… if you guys want to, then go.]

His tone was half-genuine annoyance, half-avoidance.

Ajay who was lying back on the charpai in the courtyard, shifted onto his elbow with a determination.

“Itni bheed hogi… yuh ladkiyaan akeli jaayengi toh theek lagta hai kya? Dekh bhai, main akela… sab ko kaise sambhalun? Kittu ko toh main dekh loonga, par Piyali….”

(There will be such a big crowd… you think it’s fine if the girls go alone? Look brother, I am just one person… how can I handle everyone? I can manage Kittu, but Piyali…)

He said her name was just loud enough to make Samar’s eyes shoot up.

Samar’s jaw tightened. “Ajay…” he said warningly, but Ajay only shrugged, still grinning, avoiding looking at his eyes.

There was a moment’s pause before Samar exhaled sharply through his nose.

“Ready ho.”

(Get ready)

✿⁠ 

The jeep moves over the narrow village road, the headlights throwing the little bit light in the almost dark path.

The night air was cool. Ajay and Samar sat in the front of Samar’s jeep, while Piyali and Kittu sat in the back seat.

The ride to the mela was slow, the road was lined up with golden mustard fields swaying in the light winter breeze.

Every now and then, they would pass a bullock cart carrying people or sugarcane and vegetables.

But as they got closer to the village grounds, distant music from loudspeakers was heard, the smell of frying pakoras, Jalebi, sweet and spicy chaat and a sea of people.

The closer they went, the more the crowd became, until by the time they reached the main path, it was like stepping into war.

Piyali’s steps slowed down. She stepped back a little every time someone walked past her. Yet making sure to keep a small gap between herself and Samar. Who was just behind her.

It wasn’t because she was upset with him, far from it. But a thought stayed in her mind… what if he didn’t like me walking too close? What if it annoyed him?

She drew her dupatta a little tighter around her front and folded her arms in.

Kittu, meanwhile, walked ahead like a sparrow, her braid bouncing against her back. Ajay kept close behind her, one arm slightly raised to shield her from elbows and bags swinging in the crowd.

Samar walked just behind Piyali, his tall frame giving him a clear view of her slim shoulders disappearing into the crush of people.

Itne bhid-bhaad mein aana hi kyun hota hai inko… he muttered in his head, his jaw tightening.

(Why do they insist on coming to such crowded places…)

That’s when he noticed a group of local boys pushing through from the side, their eyes holding teenage mischief, bumping into anyone in their way. His teeth clenched.

“Piyali” His voice cut through the noise.

She tried to turn, but a shove from behind sent her stumbling forward.

She barely had a chance to steady herself before Samar’s hand was at her arm, his other hand clearing the space as he pushed forward through the press of bodies.

In one swift movement, he was right behind her, his arms wrapping around her from the back and pulling her firmly into his chest.

Her breath got stuck. Normally, the sudden closeness might have made her flinch or pull away.

But right now, with the narrow lane closing in on all sides and strangers pushing past too close, it felt different. The only safe place in the chaos was the weight of him at her back.

A man in front stumbled backwards, almost colliding into her, unintentionally but Samar’s palm was already against the man’s shoulder holding him off, steadying him.

“Hum… humein dar lag raha hai…” she whispered, her voice trembling so softly he had to bend his head closer to hear.

(I… I am scared…)

His breath was warm near her temple as he murmured “Main hoon na? Darti kyu ho. jaisan le jaaun, waise chalo.”

(I am here, right? Why are you scared? Just walk the way I lead you.)

She felt his hands shift, joining in front of her waist, holding her tighter. His palm covers her whole waist.

Her fingers found the edge of his sleeve and clung to it as they moved forward, his body shielding hers from every push and brush in the crowd.

Ahead of them, Kittu was having her own battle with the crowd.

Every few steps, someone’s elbow or shoulder brushed against her side, making her stumble.

Ajay finally placed both hands on her shoulders.

“Arey… seedha chal, idhar-udhar mat ho” he muttered, brow furrowed.

(Hey… walk straight, don’t wander around.)

Kittu craned her neck back for a second, trying to see over the heads behind them  and that’s when she spotted Samar and Piyali, pressed close in the crowd, his arms around her to keep her safe.

A tiny giggle slipped out before she could stop it.

Ajay narrowed his eyes. “Pagal ho gayi hai kya? Idhar hum bheed mein pis rahe hain aur tu hass rahi hai?”

(Have you gone mad? We’re getting crushed here and you’re laughing?)

Kittu bit her lip, still grinning. “Arre… peeche dekh na, tujhe bhi hasi aa jayegi.”

(Just take a look back, you will laugh too.)

Ajay turned his head over his shoulder. For a moment, his eyes widened  then the corner of his mouth pulled into a smirk.

“Haan… seekh hi gya hai sala,” he muttered under his breath.

(Yeah… the rascal’s learning.)

In Samar’s arms, the world felt strangely quieter, even with the shouts of shopkeepers and the blasting of music. His chest was a solid wall at her back.

The faint earthly scent of his was like an addiction, the thumping of his heartbeat, and the hold of his arms that was leading her forward.

Everything blurred into nothing.

For those few minutes, the nagging doubt that had been running through her head since morning, replaced by one clear, simple truth

right now, she was safe. With him.

And it wasn’t just safe. She could feel it in the way his arms closed around her,  not only to shield her from the crowd, but to claim her, in a quiet, unspoken way that made her rethink her thoughts.

His fingers tightened slightly at her side as they moved forward, guiding her. She fit perfectly under his chin, the warmth of his breath brushing the crown of her head.

✿⁠ 

They finally broke through that part of the crowd. The press of bodies lessened, the air got cooler as they reached the inside of the mela but Samar’s arms didn’t drop from around her.

His grip was still firm, his chest still close to her back, eyes scanning the lane ahead like the crowd could close in again at any moment.

Piyali’s own breath had steadied now. She hesitated, then tilted her head slightly, craning her neck up towards him.

From somewhere ahead, she could hear Kittu’s voice calling her name, faint under the music and noises.

She looked up fully then, but her gaze didn’t rise all the way, her eyes stayed lowered, shyness tugging at the corners of her mouth.

Even like that, she felt the weight of his stare already on her.

Samar wasn’t looking at the crowd anymore. He was looking at her now, at the tiny red bindi she always wore, the squishy of her cheeks, pink as though someone had just pinched them, the soft fullness of her lips and those wide round eyes that seemed to hold more than she would ever say aloud.

“Hum… jaayen?” she murmured, her voice barely above the hum of the fair.

[Shall i go?]

The question pulled him out of his quiet thoughts. “Hm” he replied simply, his voice low.

His hands loosened, letting her go with a slowness that made her aware of every bit of distance growing between them.

He glanced ahead. Kittu and Ajay were waiting, waving for them to catch up. Samar’s gaze lingered on them for a second. He could already guess what was coming next.

Without a word, he stepped forward, walking ahead of her.

The mela was bursting with colour, stalls were decorated with strings of lights.

A few steps ahead, someone was selling wooden flutes while playing it, drawing people's attention, the sharp yet sweet notes luring everyone in.

Kittu had already run ahead to a stall with earrings, leaving Piyali at a bangle counter. She bent slightly, turning her head to see the  green, red, golden, all neatly in round tin trays.

Her fingers hovered over a set of deep maroon ones, unsure if they would fit.

“Arre, hum madad karde?” Ajay’s voice came from the side, all cheerful and mischief like he was doing this with an intention.

[Here, let me help.]

Piyali glanced up, smiling faintly. “Sab hi bohat sundar hai…”

[All of them are beautiful…]

But Ajay was already picking a few bangles and holding them up against her wrist, he said. “Haan… yeh rang badhiya lagega tum par”

[Yes… this colour suits you well.]

A few steps behind, Samar stood with his hands in his pockets, expression unreadable, eyes fixed on them.

He looked like a man who had seen enough of the mela for one day, but his gaze didn’t shift from the sight of Ajay leaning a little too comfortably beside her.

Ajay, catching Samar’s stare from the corner of his eye, deliberately bent lower, comparing two sets of bangles for Piyali. “Yeh…try kar ke dekho” he said, slipping one halfway over her fingers.

[This one… try this on.]

That was it. Samar walked up without a word, closing the distance in three long strides. His hand caught Ajay lightly but firmly at the elbow.

"Aage chal jara” he said in a tone that was calm, it would have seemed normal to anyone around, but only ajay knew how much of a trouble he was in.

(Come… this way.)

Ajay, caught off guard, stumbled a step forward as Samar pulled him away from the counter. “Arre bhai, hum toh madad karahe the…” Ajay protested, grinning.

[Hey, I was only helping…]

From the toy stall, Kittu had seen it all. She burst out laughing.

🍂

The mela’s noises had faded behind them. The jeep was running in a dimly lit street, its headlights the only source of light in the dark.

Kittu exhausted yet excited was chattering with Piyali.

Smiling she nudged Piu “Arre Piu, bata na… woh jhoola pe ghabra gayi thi na tu? Main toh dekha, aankh band kar li thi tune”

[Piu, admit it… you got scared of that giant wheel, didn’t you? I saw you shut your eyes]

Piyali said in her quiet voice “Nahi toh… dari nahi thi… wo toh bas hawa jada thi.”

[No… I wasn’t scared, the wind was just too much.]

Ajay, sitting beside Samar chuckled, while Samar silently drove with focused eyes on the road.

Out of nowhere, a few shadows of people jumped in front of the jeep. The vehicle stopped to a halt.

A group of men came surrounding them from front, rods and knives in their hands, their faces covered with gamchas.

A rough voice came “Jo bhi hai, nikal…paisa, gehna, sab”

[Give whatever you have, money, jewelry, everything]

Ajay and Samar instantly stepped down, trying to shield the jeep but The thugs were smart, knowing the weak point of men. One was going to grab at Kittu’s arm.

Kittu yelled in panic, pressing herself to piyali who held her protectively “Haat! Paas mat aana mere”

[Go away! Don't come near me.]

Before the man could raise his hand to grab her, Samar’s voice thundered, cold and dangerous. The men who were trying to take things the smart way were long gone.

“Haath hata le… warna tod ke rakh dunga.”

[Take your hand off… or I’ll break it right here.]

He shoved the man back with raw force. Ajay at the back making sure they don't get too close.

But another thug’s eyes fell on Piyali’s gold chain and earrings.

He lunged at her. Piyali screamed as he yanked, scratching her neck and behind her ear. She winced, clutching her dupatta.

That sight snapped Samar’s last thread of patience.

His jaw locked, eyes turned red with fury. He lunged at the man, throwing punches, each one harder than the last.

Ajay too, seeing Samar lose control, joined in fighting the others, taking cuts but not backing down.

The goons, beaten half-dead, finally laid bleeding and injured on the ground But Samar’s rage wasn’t over, he had pinned the one who snatched Piyali’s chain and was still hammering him mercilessly.

Ajay panting, grabbed Samar’s arm “Arre bas kar bhai...Maar daalega kya? Chhod de ab!”

[Enough, brother! Will you kill him? Leave him now!]

Somehow Ajay pulled Samar back, his own shirt torn, face bleeding from scratches.

The jeep now started again, going forward but now filled with silence heavier than before. Piyali, trembling, pulled her dupatta tighter to hide her bruises while carrising kittu's arms.

By the time they reached home, lanterns in the courtyard were still on, everyone was awake as neighbors had already gathered, hearing the commotion.

Inside, Mrs. Sharma’s cry broke the silence, rushing to Samar “Hai Ram! Ka kar aaya re tu? Haath dekho apna… poora khoon”

[Oh God! What have you done? Look at your hand..it’s all bloody!]

She dragged Samar to sit down on the charpai. His father’s face was dark with anger and worry.

Mrs. Das too had rushed in behind, panicked seeing Ajay and Samar like that.

She said anxiously “Kya haal bana liya tum dono ne? Baith jao, Ajay… main dawa laga du.”

[What happened to you both? Sit down, Ajay… I will put some medicine.]

Kittu, unusually quiet, stood near the wall, her earlier mischief was drained already, Neighbors were murmuring among themselves, some were offering water to the boys, some just standing and watching.

Piyali slipped inside the kitchen quietly, grinding turmeric and mixing it with mustard oil, her maa’s age-old remedy. She brought it silently to them.

Placing it quietly avoiding Samar’s eyes

Mrs. Sharma took it without a word, too worried for Samar’s hand.

But Samar… he had already noticed. His eyes followed Piyali’s dupatta over her neck. She had hidden it well, but he could see the faint redness peeking through it. His hands clenched tighter.

He knew she was trying to hide it perhaps because revealing it would only cause more panic and draw unwanted attention to her.

The gold that the goons had snatched was already taken back by Ajay before they left.

While the elders, Mr. Sharma, Mr. Das, and a few neighbors sitting in another room, voices low but Stern.

Mr. Sharma said in a fuming tone “Kal subah  police aur sarpanch ke paas jaayenge. Bahut ho gaya, ab is gali mohalla me aise chor badmash bardaasht na honge.”

[Tomorrow morning we will go straight to the police and the sarpanch. Enough is enough, these thieves won’t be tolerated here anymore.]

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Mrs. Sharma and Mrs. Das began preparing haldi doodh, for their children.

The courtyard emptied slowly. Ajay was told to stay the night in the room beside Samar. He had left to change his clothes to one of Samars. Kittu was called by her maa to the rasoi.

Now only Samar and Piyali remained.

Samar sat on the charpai, elbows on knees, jaw tight. His blank face was fighting his inner storm. His eyes didn’t meet hers, only stayed at her covered neck.

As soon as he realized Kittu was gone.

Samar spoke, his voice low and rough. The adrenaline of the moment still running through his veins. “Chot lagi hai kahi?”

[Did you get hurt anywhere?]

Piyali’s heart skipped. She shook her head quickly, whispering a soft “na.”

[No]

Samar’s eyes stayed on her a moment longer, searching, piercing. Blank yet intense. She felt exposed, even under her dup

atta.

She knew, if he accepted her lie, the night would pass quietly. But if he pressed further, his anger would return.

Her eyes dropped, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her dupatta. The silence was getting worse.

Then, without a word, Samar stood up. His heavy footsteps heard as he walked inside his room, the door shutting firmly behind him.

Piyali stayed rooted, her throat dry, her chest heavy.

༄°.🍂.ೃ