Na Jaane Kyon...

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Thank you soooo much for such a warm welcome. Love you all 🤗
So here we begin another tale of love... between two characters who we adore beyond anything. Beginning is slow, but as we know

Jaise ahista ahista kali khilti hai
jaise subah hoti hai... ahista, ahista
waise pyar ka izhaar bhi ahista ahista
ussi ka toh mazaa hai 🥰

So go ahead, read on and let me know your views. One more thing, I plan to end this story in one book only 😂

"Mummy, jaldi aao."

The loud scream reverberated through the morning silence in the house. Vishakha, who was instructing the servants about breakfast, rushed to her son's room on the first floor.

"Kya hua, Sameer? Tu theek toh hai na beta?" She worriedly looked him up and down.

Standing in the middle of the room, dressed in trousers and vest, his hair still wet and tousled after bath, stood Sameer, holding a yellow shirt.

"Yeh dekho... kya hai yeh?" Frowning, he held it out to his mom.

Vishakha took the shirt and checked it... the buttons were intact, ironing was perfect, there didn't seem to be any stains.

She gave him a puzzled look, "Kya hua iss shirt ko?"

His eyes widened, "Aapko yeh mark nahi dikh raha?"

Vishakha held up the shirt against the light streaming through balcony door. Still nothing.

She turned to him, "Isme koi mark nahi hai, Sameer."

He snatched the shirt and pointed near the second button. There was a faint line of about half an inch, a mark of pen.

"Yeh dekho. Mummy, yeh nishaan saaf kyon nahi hua? Aapko pata hai na mujhe kisi tarah ka daag tolerate nahi hota." He was fuming.

Vishakha narrowed her eyes at the almost invisible line, then looked up at him, "Itna halka hai yeh, beta. Pen ka nishan hai na isliye ek baar mein saaf nahi hua. I'm sure ek do baar aur wash hogi toh chala jayega. Waise yeh toh tumhari tie ke neeche chup jayega na, kisi ko dikhega thodi... so it's okay."

Sameer was shocked, "Mom, yeh aap kya keh rahi ho? Kisi ko dikhe na dikhe mujhe pata hai ki nishaan hai. Main yeh shirt nahi pehen sakta. Aap isse le jaaiye aur jo karna hai kijiye... bas mere cupboard mein yeh dubara nahi dikhni chahiye."

With a weary look at her son, Vishakha rolled the shirt and walked out, muttering to herself, "Iss ladke ki yeh aadat samajh hi nahi aati. Chashma laga ke dekho toh bhi nishaan kisi ko na dikhe lekin isko nazar aata hai. Yeh mujhe pagal bana de usse pehle iski shaadi kar deni chahiye. Phir sambhalti rahegi koi bechari iski yeh perfection ki aadat."

In his room, unaware of his mom's wishes, Sameer carefully picked out another shirt from his cupboard and checked it thoroughly. Satisfied at its perfection, he dressed and rushed out for breakfast.

Jai Prakash Maheshwari affectionately smiled at his grandson as he hopped down the stairs, his silky hair flying with each step. Dressed in a dark suit over a white shirt, along with a tie, he was ready for office. The formal attire would have clashed with the light stubble for anyone else, but the same combination added a boyish charm to Sameer's handsome looks. The habit of working out every single day had given him a lean and fit appearance, and Jai Prakash Maheshwari very well knew the interest he generated amongst girls wherever he went. But his biggest grouse was that in spite of being the grandson of such a romantic person, Sameer never fell in love.