Miles apart: Adiya story

Cold November rain

Gobi ka paratha with blueberry jam,

Aditya chuckled to himself inhaling the fresh morning air of the mountains reminiscing how he made a complete fool of himself in front of her the other morning. As he rode the bicycle through the winding muddy path enthusiastically ringing the bell to sometimes a bunch of school children and at times herd of cattle obstructing his way. When was the last time he rode a bicycle? Aditya wondered to himself, but when was it the last time he felt so light and could he use the word 'happy' for some reason unknown even to himself.

As he hurried towards his destination soaking in the beautiful sight of lilacs and lillies growing amongst the green hills flashbacks of yesterday morning nurtured his already peaceful mind.

Aditya recalled Zoya standing there confused at his peculiar breakfast demand, it was only when she heard Noor chuckle over her glass of milk that he saw Zoya frowning at her younger sister correcting Noor for her apparent rudeness to the guest. 

You guys have not tried the combo yet? It's deadly and amazing at the same time.

Aditya silently thanked his presence of mind his only saviour from appearing like a love struck teenager in front of not only Zoya but her entire family. 

After a ride of nearly an hour or so he parked the bicycle in front of his destination, Aditya immediately spotted the old man with grey hairs engrossed in his work. 

Good morning sir, ek chitthi (letter) post karna tha,

The old man looked up from his spectacles a little surprised, the post office was situated a little a few kilometres away from the main town, a deserted wooden two-storeyed building inhabited by the past and oblivion. This was perhaps the first letter that had come to the post office in nearly a month and the old gentleman closely read the address scribbled on the envelope.

"Arre yeh toh yehi ka address hai aap main town post office kyun nahin jaate ek din mein hi pahuch jayega ya phir unke ghar hi chalein kyun nahin jaate."

'I came here because I have a request sir please hand over the letter to the concer..ned person after five days from now'.

Aditya paid for the stamp and smiled at the postmaster before leaving,

"sirf aap ghar ghar mein chitthi dena miss nahin karte sir kuch log unke pateh par chitthi aana bahut miss karte hai".

Amidst the mouthwatering aroma of walnut brownies and freshly brewed coffee in the Siddiqui breakfast table Wasim Siddiqui had mildly complained about his younger daughter's obsession with fast internet service and latest gadgets.

"I think we were the last of the lucky ones to have ever posted a letter, how I wish somebody would post a handwritten letter to me for once I don't want e-mails or messages."

Aditya had nearly choked on his black coffee for he had been penning down his confession about his identity almost every night but would end up tearing the paper, crushing it on his tightly clenched fist and downing neat brandy that would burn his throat. 

So, he poured his heart out till late last night and remembering her eyes lighting up at the mention of a letter being posted on her name Aditya Hooda made up his mind to make Zoya Siddiqui relive her childhood memories with a handwritten letter posted to her concerned address. 

The cold November rain started to pour out of nowhere as he rode his bicycle from the abandoned post office, as he wore the hood of his jacket and wiped his face for his vision blurred due to the downpour he knew that just like the sudden rain came as a blessing to camouflage his tears the temporal joy that will visit her along with the confidential envelope will soon be washed away the moment she reads the letter.