Dev's P.O.V
I wake up to the soft glow of sunlight filtering through my window, casting a warm and gentle light on the room. The peacefulness of the morning beckons me, and I sit down on the floor near the window, my favorite spot after getting out of bed. It's a ritual I cherish, embracing the tranquility that mornings bring. In this moment, there is no rush, no blaring car horns or frantic footsteps. The world seems to find solace in this time, offering a glimpse of a simpler, quieter existence.
As I bask in the stillness, I am serenaded by the joyful melodies of birds chirping outside. Their sweet voices get lost amidst the chaos of the day, unnoticed and unappreciated. But right now, I take the time to observe their delicate movements-the way they scratch their wings with their beaks, their graceful flight across the sky. The morning sky itself paints a picture of beauty, with streaks of reddish hues blending with the blue canvas. It's as if nature grants a fleeting moment for two opposing forces to acknowledge each other-the sun spreading its radiant rays on one side while the moon gathers its gentle glow on the other.
Living in a bustling city, these glimpses of nature are all I have. I've always yearned for the majestic mountains, lush forests, and cascading waterfalls I've seen in movies and music videos. My mom knows how much I love them, which is why we used to venture to places like Shimla, Manali, or Ooty during our vacations.
But then, my dad made a decision-to prioritize his income and reduce his time for us. Our cherished vacation trips, Saturday night family moments, and even our heartfelt conversations around the dining table gradually faded away, replaced by the demands of Tanushri Jewels, the business he became consumed by. He said he wanted to provide me with a better life, one he never had. But in the process, he unintentionally robbed us of the time we truly longed for. He may have aimed to enhance my adulthood, but he unwittingly snatched away pieces of my childhood.
I reach for my phone on the bedside table, hoping for a semblance of connection in this digital age. As I open WhatsApp, Raj's profile picture catches my eye. Yes, we had a conversation yesterday, and it was during that conversation that he uttered those words that made my heart flutter: "Your smile is the cutest thing I have ever seen."
A surge of emotions engulfs me, causing my cheeks to flush with warmth. I can't help but wear a peculiar smile, relishing the memory of his compliment. My heart dances within my chest as I retrace our entire conversation from yesterday, savoring every word, every interaction.
Should I send him a good morning message? We are friends now, right? Friends say good morning to each other. But what if he's not the type of person who checks his phone first thing in the morning? What if my message annoys him or comes across as cringy? What if he lumps me together with those uncles in family groups who flood everyone's chats with cheesy good morning pictures every day?
I take a deep breath, attempting to calm my racing thoughts. One good morning message won't hurt, will it? It's just a simple gesture... right?
Deciding to take the plunge, I find a cute GIF of a sleepy kitty and send it to Raj, hoping it strikes the right balance. Does it seem too childish? I tend to use a lot of emojis and GIFs in my conversations, so maybe it's okay.
With the morning rituals complete, I head to the bathroom for a refreshing shower. However, I notice something amiss as I step out of the shower and begin to get dressed for school. Yet, there's an unsettling absence in the air. My mom is usually here by now, calling me from downstairs to make sure I'm ready. But today, there is only silence.
Curiosity tinged with concern fills my mind. Wasn't she fine yesterday? Did something happen after I fell asleep? These questions swirl in my thoughts, urging me to investigate the unusual circumstances.
As I make my way downstairs, a peculiar sight greets my eyes. My dad, typically engrossed in his work, is sprawled out on the couch, fast asleep. It's a scene I can never fathom witnessing. A part of me wants to capture this unexpected moment with a photo, as he looks oddly cute in his disheveled state. His hand dangles over the edge of the couch, his head struggling to find comfort on the armrest. His legs jumble together in the limited space, while the blanket lies abandoned on the floor. However, the fear of his awakening and catching me in the act dissuades me from reaching for my phone. I can't risk losing all the pictures I hold dear.
The living room feels empty, void of the usual morning bustle. The kitchen shares the same emptiness. Bewilderment gnaws at my insides, compelling me to search for answers. My instincts lead me to my mom's room, only to find the door locked from within. It's an unusual sight, raising further concerns.
I gently knock on the door, waiting anxiously for a response. After a few moments, the sound of movement reaches my ears, and the door creaks open. My mom stands before me, rubbing her tired eyes, her disheveled hair a testament to her recent slumber.
"Mom?" I say, surprise evident in my voice. She's always been an early riser, committed to her morning yoga routine. It's a ritual she often encourages me to join, although my commitment rarely extends beyond a couple of days.
"I know it's 7:25. I'm sorry, Dev. I won't be able to drop you off today. The driver uncle will take you to school instead, okay?" she says, her voice laced with weariness.
Rajesh uncle usually serves as our driver, but it's mostly Mom who chauffeurs me around. "Okay, but what's going on?" I inquire, turning to my dad for answers.
"That's a long story," Mom replies, securing her hair in a bun. "I'll explain later." She heads towards the kitchen and adds, "Forget about a lavish breakfast. How about a quick sandwich and some juice?"
"That works for me," I follow her lead. "By the way, did you just kick Dad out of the room?"
Mom's face scrunches up disapprovingly. "Watch your language, Dev!"
"Oh, sorry. But is it true?" I persist.
"Well, sort of," she admits, though with a hint of hesitation. "I didn't exactly kick him out, but... I'll tell you later." With those words, she disappears into the kitchen.
As Mom prepares the sandwiches, I grab a glass of juice and lean against the kitchen counter, the sounds of her bustling activity merging with the ambiance of the living room. Dad stirs on the couch, his slumber disturbed by the commotion. He sits up, emitting a grumbling sound of discomfort. Mom sets the sandwiches on the dining table and joins me, a playful glint in her eye.
"Dev, how was your sleep last night?" she asks, her tone hinting at an underlying meaning. It's clear she's teasing Dad. I offer a simple nod in response.
Dad lets out an amused snort through his nose, an indication of his mock annoyance at Mom's jest. I catch onto the cue and smoothly shift the conversation, "Mom, I'll be late today, there's independence day fest coming and I'm thinking about participating in something."
"You're not up to anything!" A stern voice cuts through, freezing us both. We pivot to see Dad standing there, eavesdropping on our talk.
A frown creases his brow, his disapproval evident. "You've just joined in the middle of the semester, and now you want to take part in some trivial school event? Who's going to focus on studies then?"
Mom rises from her seat, her determination unwavering. "Dev, you're going to participate in the event."
"Have you two lost your minds? Remember he has final exams coming up? And then there's the NEET exam next year? Look at the colossal NEET syllabus. It spans all of 11th and 12th-grade physics, chemistry, and biology. His 11th-grade studies are already suffering due to the school change. How is he supposed to cover the entire syllabus?" Dad counters.
Mom turns her attention towards me, though her words are meant for Dad as well. "Dev, you've never had a chance to be part of a school activity like this, and this is your last opportunity. Next year is all about board exams, and there won't be room for such things. Missing this chance might become a regret. It's a chance for fun, for creating wonderful memories. Life isn't just about competition and money. You don't need to become a money-making machine devoid of a social life, friends, or family time."
Dad falls silent for a beat, then mumbles, "Whatever," before retreating to his room.
Mom sighs, a hint of exasperation escaping her lips. "Your dad can be impossible sometimes."
"And yet, you married him," I quip, polishing off my breakfast.
"I married a completely different man. This workload has buried my Sharmaji, and now all I see is Mr. Sharma," she admits, her voice carrying a tinge of sadness.
"Mom..." I begin, wanting to offer comfort, but she interrupts.
"...You'll be late," she says abruptly, changing the topic.
"Right, okay, bye," I reply, giving her a quick hug as she plants a kiss on my forehead.
Stepping outside, I head toward the car where Rajesh uncle is busy giving it a thorough cleaning.
"Good morning, uncle," I greet Rajesh, our family driver, as I reach for the back door of the car. My attempt to open it is met with resistance; it's locked.
He rushes over and unlocks the door, asking, "Am I driving you to school today?"
"Yep, everyone overslept," I reply, sliding into the car seat.
I'm pretty sure they had a fight yesterday. And honestly, it was probably justified. The way Dad scolded Mom wasn't right. He's always stressed about his work, and he tends to unleash his stress as anger on us. And I know exactly what Mom was talking about.
Thinking back, my childhood was the best time. Mom and I still reminisce about those days. We used to spend so much time together as a family. Dad was always busy with work, but he still made time for us. I remember Mom used to affectionately call Dad "Sharmaji," and I was her little "Junior Sharmaji." We went on countless trips to hill stations, beaches, historical sites, famous temples, and so many other places across the country.
But it's been years since we've been on any such adventures. Everything seemed fine... We appeared happy, at least in all the old photographs. But then Dad's friend told him about the potential profits in starting his own business. Dad came up with an idea, and his friend was impressed and willing to join him. So Dad decided to quit his job and launch his startup. And that's when everything changed. His idea didn't take off, and his friend ended up betraying him, leaving Dad solely responsible for all the losses. That's when he started hating friends and friendships. We had to sell our spacious two-bedroom flat, which was Mom's beloved home, and move into a cramped one-room rental.
I remember Mom telling me how they invested all their savings into Dad's new business, and it just didn't work out. Dad would cry when he saw me, wondering how he could provide me with a better life. His tears, failures, and disappointments eventually transformed into anger and frustration. He was burdened with debt, but he didn't give up He worked tirelessly, nights consumed by his idea, wooing new clients and investors. Still, these experiences seemed to reshape him into someone more distant and severe.
Thankfully, his business concept, "Tanushri Jewels," which linked customers with traditional and modern jewelers across the country via an app, eventually found success. He added features allowing customers to specify their desired jewelry style, prompting notifications to jewelers specialized in that style, allowing customers to choose the best option. The idea became such a hit that Dad's online shop is now transforming into physical stores in major cities.
We regained our prosperity, multiplied several times over, but Mom lost her "Sharmaji" in that journey. She lost the man she admired most.
We may not be billionaires now, but we can certainly be considered well-off. We're in a comfortable position. However, Dad is still not satisfied. He continues to grow his business, along with his stress, each passing day.
But yeah, for some reason that I'm not aware of, he has decided that I won't be involved in his business; he wants me to become a doctor... without considering what I actually want.
As the car makes the turn onto Mehar Road, I peer out the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of the serene and picturesque road that was once a familiar sight. Yet, what greets my eyes is a landscape dominated by towering buildings and bustling streets. The road's transformation mirrors our country's progress, leaving behind remnants of nostalgia in its wake.
Mom's words reverberate in my mind, a mantra that's shaped my perception of financial stability. "Just make enough money to fill your pockets else you'll have to carry baggage," she used to say, underscoring the importance of securing our financial future. While she supported Dad's business endeavors, I sense her unspoken disappointment in his relentless focus on work. Her sacrifices often go unnoticed, eclipsed by the ceaseless pursuit of success.
My thoughts are interrupted by a message on my phone. Raj's text appears, a simple "Good Morning" that carries a world of significance. It's a comforting touchstone amidst the chaos of my thoughts.
The car comes to a stop, and I gather my belongings, stepping out into the world, ready to confront another day.
As I step onto the pavement, a sleek black car pulls up beside me. The rear door opens, revealing Raj with his distinctive green eyes and infectious grin. Instantly, my own smile mirrors his, stretching from ear to ear, a silent connection forged between us.
"Hey," Raj greets warmly, his smile illuminating his face.
Our eyes meet, and I respond with equal warmth, "Hi."
"How's your day looking?" he inquires, his tone soft.
My words falter, a flutter of excitement taking hold in my chest. "I'm alright, I guess," I manage, hoping my nerves aren't too evident.
He steps out of his car, and together we stroll toward the main gate of the academy. It's a simple act, but the way he moves, the way his presence envelops me, feels inexplicably special. Happiness bubbles from within, refusing containment, and my smile refuses to dissipate.
What is it about him that holds such allure? Why does simply walking beside him bring so much joy? What's so remarkable that my smile clings on so stubbornly? Ah, I think I'm going crazy. Mom, maybe you should keep the number for the mental asylum handy.
I take a deep breath, letting myself relax and fully immerse in his words.
"Today's going to be a whirlwind. First, we'll need to get permission and secure a slot to use the auditorium for our 11th-grade class. Who knows if others might be vying for it too? Then we'll gauge interest for our team. We'll listen to everyone's plot ideas and then dive into crafting the screenplay..."
I observe the faint lines on his forehead, his animated smile as he talks, and the way his gestures punctuate his words. Every detail about him captivates me. Regardless of the topic, I'm completely absorbed in his words. The stress, the worries all fade away when he's near. His smile is a soothing balm, and it feels like my concerns shrink when measured against that smile.
"Hey, Raj, your backpack?" a voice calls out, causing both of us to turn around. A man stands by Raj's car, holding Raj's backpack.
Raj hurries back to his dad, saying, "Sorry, Dad."
Ah, so this is Raj's father. There's something familiar about him, as if I've seen him before. It clicks—I've encountered him somewhere too. But where? The memory dances just out of reach, frustratingly elusive.
"Study hard, alright?" Raj's dad instructs before heading inside. Raj seems to notice my puzzled expression, nudging me with his elbow. "What's on your mind?" he asks, a glint of curiosity in his eyes. Following his lead, we step into the building.
Nervously, I scratch my head, trying to piece it together. "I'm not sure," I confess, "but your dad seems oddly familiar. Like I've seen him somewhere."
Raj's laughter rings out, filling the corridor with a musical quality that I find strangely endearing. I can't help but smile, even though I'm not entirely sure what's so amusing about my simple observation. He seems to find it hilarious, and his laughter is infectious.
As we continue walking, I find it hard to ignore his laughter. Despite my confusion, I can't deny that he looks incredibly charming when he's laughing. But the fact that he's laughing at something I said makes my cheeks flush with embarrassment—more than just a little bit.
In the midst of my thoughts, Raj's hand lands on my shoulder, causing me to jump slightly in surprise. I open my mouth to ask what's going on, but before I can form the words, he gently turns me towards a wall adorned with a colorful poster. The poster showcases the school's impressive facilities and the outstanding achievements of its students, acting as a sort of advertisement for anyone passing by.
I furrow my brows, wondering why he's pointing out the poster to me. After all, I'm already a student here. But then, my eyes catch something at the bottom of the poster—a photograph of Raj's dad, Mr. Vikrant Mehra, the founder and director of Bright Future Academy.
It suddenly clicks into place, and I feel a mix of embarrassment and realization. No wonder his dad looked familiar. Bright Future Academy isn't just any school; it's a well-known institution with branches all over the country. I must have seen Raj's dad in those advertisements that are plastered all over the city. I can't believe I didn't recognize him earlier. I should have at least greeted him. He must think I'm incredibly unobservant or rude.
"Your dad is the founder of this school?" I blurt out, my eyes wide with surprise as I turn to Raj.
He grins, a glint of pride in his eyes. Thankfully, his laughter has subsided, and I'm grateful for that. "Yep, that's him. You've probably seen him in those posters. They've been everywhere lately, especially after our school's success in the National Sports Festival."
"That makes sense," I murmur, a mix of relief and embarrassment washing over me. Together, we continue walking towards our classroom.
"Yeah, the students who did well will be rewarded on Independence Day at the BFA Delhi branch," he adds, providing me with more information. I nod in response, not because I'm not interested, but because I tend to struggle with keeping conversations going. Especially when it involves someone like Raj. My mind goes blank, and I find it hard to find the right words to respond or extend the discussion.
"So, what does your dad do?" Raj asks, his voice filled with genuine curiosity.
Raj's question catches me off guard, and I can't help but smile at his genuine curiosity. "Well," I begin with a chuckle, "my dad is also a founder. He's the brains behind Tanushri Jewels."
His eyes widen in surprise, and he comes to a sudden stop, almost causing me to bump into him. "No way," he exclaims, clearly taken aback, "Your dad is the mastermind behind Tanushri Jewels?" His amazement brings a smile to my face. It's not every day that someone recognizes my dad's accomplishments, and it's nice to see Raj impressed.
As we resume walking, I can't help but ponder my own uncertain future. While my dad has reached his goals and established himself, I'm still trying to figure out what I want to do. But it's hard to imagine steering away from my dad's expectations. After all, he's already decided that I'm going to be a doctor. What room is there for my own dreams and aspirations in the midst of his grand plans?
Suddenly, Raj comes to a stop in front of the bulletin board for the 11th-grade class. The board showcases achievements with vibrant pictures of winners from our branch of Bright Future Academy, highlighting their successes in science fests and state-level sports competitions. He pulls out a piece of paper from his bag and pins it onto the board.
Intrigued, I step closer to read the announcement:
"All 11th-grade students interested in participating in the drama for the upcoming fest can now sign up at the auditorium after school. Further details will be provided there."
My heart skips a beat as I read the words. Drama? The upcoming festival? Is this a sign? Should I take a leap and sign up? The idea of participating in a drama, while incredibly nerve-wracking, also has a strange appeal. It's a chance to step out of my comfort zone, to be someone other than the quiet, anxious introvert. I glance at Raj, who seems to be in his element, pinning up the notice. Maybe, just maybe, this could be an opportunity for me to challenge myself.