Some days can be exhaustingly long, like today. The sun shone in the sky as I momentarily checked my watch while standing in front of my six-year-old daughter's school. I stifled countless yawns. Just as I was about to succumb to drowsiness, my phone pinged in my pocket. Unlocking the screen, I found a text from Karan, a long-lost friend.
"Remember this day; I found this in my closet."
Image attached.
My eyes landed on the attached image—a photograph from 24 years ago. I gazed at 16-year-old Lovish with deep brown eyes, dressed in a white t-shirt loosely tucked into blue bell-bottom pants. His well-coiffed hair, parted on the side, fell gracefully on his forehead—a trend of that era. His right arm wrapped around Karan, who stood beside him. In a group photo of four, Lovish's eyes didn't meet the camera; instead, they fixated on someone in the right corner. He leaned to catch a glimpse of her—dressed in a blue skirt and white shoes, her pleated skirt complemented by matching white studs, and her hair styled in two small ponytails. She leaned to the side, resting her elbow on Prachi's shoulder, who stood beside Karan.
Her face displayed a cheeky smile, and her amber eyes glistened with excitement. I chuckled at the sight of her youthful exuberance. This photograph captured a time when phones weren't the medium of communication; instead, our eyes conveyed messages. At such a tender age, my eyes spoke volumes in many languages.
The 16-year-old Lovish has evolved into a 40-year-old man, living a life he once dreamt of. I wonder if, during that time, I ever envisioned that my dream would ever be fulfilled. Perhaps I never thought of it, but she did. She shared this dream with me.
Time changes in the blink of an eye. My thought trail was broken by the loud ring of the school bell. My eyes drew toward the main gate, from which students walked out, forming a queue. Her face lit up upon seeing me in the crowd of parents.
"Dad!"
She raced toward me with her hands clutching her water bottle hanging around her neck.
"How was your day, Veda?" I lifted her in my arms, pecking her cheeks softly.
"It went well. Are we going to Mumma?" She says she loves me the most, but I know she is inspired the most by her mother. "Yes." She gave me a cheeky smile. I was walking toward my car when someone called me from behind.
"Mr. Dhimaan." I turned back to see Officer Dubey walking toward me.
"Officer on duty." I shook hands with him, and my comment made him chuckle a little. His son stretched his hand toward Veda, who scrunched her nose at him.
"Ew, boys." I could barely control my laugh.
"I am so proud of you, girl." Officer Dubey patted her back while his boy sulked in his arms.
"I am sorry, boy." I apologized, taking my leave toward the car."
Dada, your phone, please." Veda asked for my phone after settling in the car. I fished it out of my pocket and unlocked it, only to land my eyes on the pre-opened photograph sent by Karan. Passing the phone to Veda, I ignited my car's engine to hit the road.
I vividly recall the day I first met her.
It was a summer evening when I walked my dog along the riverbank that ran beside the narrow town road. The tinkling bell of a bicycle caught my ears, and a captivating sight unfolded before me. Lost in the moment, I unintentionally let go of my dog's leash. As if sensing the same excitement, he darted toward her bicycle, barking joyfully. I rushed to catch him, only to find her on the ground with her bicycle, my dog happily licking her foot.
Her hair obscured her face until she huffed, tossing her head to clear her vision. She wore a dungaree, the fashion of that time. Her hairband, previously perched atop her head, now hung in front of her eyes. She clapped her hands, dusting herself off, tucking her hair behind her ears, and securing the hairband back in place. She brushed off the dust from her elbows and knees, attempting to stand. Lifting her head, she met my eyes. For the first time, her amber orbs connected with mine. She scrunched her button nose, pouting those pink lips, eliciting a chuckle from me. She gasped at my laughter, making me abruptly stop.
"Bade badtameez ho yaar, mai gir gayi or aap has re ho. Gentleman bano, or meri help karo," her melodious voice echoed.
I hastily picked up her bicycle, securing its stand. Extending my hand, I offered assistance. She rubbed her hands on her pants and slid them into mine, sending shivers down my spine. Gripping tightly, she pulled herself up, taking a deep breath.
"Huh! Thanks," she gasped, turning to bend down to my dog's level. She pointed a finger at him, conversing with him as if he understood.
"What is this big boy? Mere Ko chot lag jaati toh? Maana mai bohat pyari hun, but aap ese door kar aaoge meri taraf toh girna hi tha maine. Very bad..." She paused, turning toward me with a surprised look.
"What's the name?" I struggled to register her words, but she clicked her fingers and repeated, "Name?"
"Lovish. Lovish Dhimaan," I blurted out. Her laughter, short but gentle, filled the air.
"Arey, I asked what's his name?" She effortlessly embarrassed me, her teasing softening my heart.
"Aww, don't be embarrassed, Lovy. I don't mind knowing your name either. But tell me, what's this good boy's name?" Blaming my teenage hormones and fair skin for the evident expression of my distress, I inhaled the confidence that had suddenly left my body.
"Umm... His name is Jimmy," I stammered. She nodded, turning toward Jimmy, giving me a wide smile.
"So where was I? Yes, Jimmy very bad... Aage se dhyan rakhna, okay! Iss baar toh maaf kar diya maine. Thik hai." For some reason, my dog nodded, as if he understood her words. She continued petting him, and he seemed thoroughly comfortable with her. After a while, she stood up, dusting off the dirt from her jeans, then turned to face me.
"He is cute," she grinned, making me gasp again. "You too." She walked toward her bicycle, leaving me breathless.
"Huh?" I managed to say, only to hear her giggle once more.
"Owie, Lovy boy, you both are cute." Did she just give me a nickname? I wonder how the same brain that solves math problems could embarrase me before her. As she was about to hop onto her bicycle to pedal away, I spoke up to stop her.
"I am sorry," I said. She turned her head, giving me a confused look.
"I mean, my dog ran to you, leading you to fall." I scratched the back of my head. "It's fine. Dogs like me, and I'm glad to meet this cutie," she said, swaying her hand and turning to leave.
But once again, I stopped her. "Name?"
She turned, giving me a small smile before riding her bicycle away from me. "Milan Kaushik," she called out, waving her hand as she cycled into the distance.
"Milan Kaushik."
****************************************************************************
Pyaareee bandhuo, comment down the tropes you think it can fit in after reading the first chapter, kesa laga jaldi se comment karey
Iss book ki playlist hum sab bhav manus saath milkar bnayenge, toh apna apna gaana jo iss chapter mai pyaara lagega comment karein, aapke aabhari rahennge😌
lets beat capitalism huh! binaa insta promotion k book ko hit krvao ;)
Bandhu jann kripya vote k sitaaare pr click kare or apne punya bhaav comment section viyakt kare (ok this last work I am not sure about... My hindi ufff🤌)
I am very laziiieshh to manage instagram, tht toxic app....
Sabhi ko bohat saara pyaar ✨❤️
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Tulip Hearts
Teen FictionStep into Lovish Dhimaan's world, where love was born amidst the magical nostalgia of the '90s. Join him as he delves into the cherished memories of his teenage years, where every stolen glance and whispered word carried the innocent purity that def...
