Priyanshu trudged wearily towards his home, his shirt sticking to his back with sweat in the unforgiving afternoon heat as he navigated his bike through the traffic. He dodged honking cars and impatient pedestrians, eager to get home and relax after a long and tiring day. He could feel the tension in his muscles and the fatigue in his bones. He hoped that his wife would have prepared something refreshing for him, maybe a glass of lemonade or a bowl of fruit salad. He smiled at the thought of seeing her face and hearing her voice.
In no time, he was at the parking of his home. He parked his bike and took off his helmet, wiping his forehead with his sleeve. The sun beat down on him mercilessly as he crossed the scorching pavement, his steps slowing with exhaustion. His eyes burned with the glare, and his throat was parched from the dryness. As he finally reached his front porch, he gasped for breath, feeling as though he had run a marathon. Closing his eyes for a moment, he took a deep breath, grateful to finally be home in the sweltering summer afternoon.
Upon entering, he was greeted by the usual silence that had become a norm in his family. Despite standing in the midst of his joint family’s house, Priyanshu felt completely alone. He could see his family members scattered around the house, each engrossed in their own world. His father was reading a newspaper in his study, his mother was watching a serial on TV in the living room, his brother was playing video games in his bedroom, and his sister was nowhere to be seen. Everyone seemed to be in their own bubble, separate and distant from one another. The silence was deafening.
He walked through the dimly lit halls, searching for his wife. Usually, he’d find her in the kitchen, but today she was nowhere to be found. He called out her name, but even his voice seemed to be swallowed by the emptiness surrounding him. He walked towards the living room, hoping to find her there at least. But she was not there as well. There was his mother instead.
“Maa, have you seen Anju?”
She turned to look at him, a disdain etched on her face. “I don’t know.”
“Oh?” He stood there for a while, waiting for his mom to acknowledge her son’s presence or merely ask him how his day has been. But all in vain.
With slouched shoulders, he let out a defeated sigh as he turned on his heels. He made his way further through the house, but he couldn’t shake off his unease. Despite the lively presence of his whole family, the atmosphere felt heavy and suffocating. It was as if there was a cloud hanging over them all, but nobody was brave enough to acknowledge it.
Finally, Priyanshu found his way to his sister’s room where few shrill voices were coming out, and there he found his wife and younger sister staring down at each other.
Priya had opened her mouth to say something rude and nasty to Anjali, but she stopped when she saw Priyanshu standing at the door. She quickly turned away from him, pretending that she didn’t care about him or anyone else. She grabbed her backpack and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her as she stomped out.
“What… what happened?” Priyanshu sighed, massaging his temple.
“Your little sister is a grown adult now,” Anjali seethed, pushing her hair back. She glared at the door that Priya had slammed shut, as if she could still see her insolent face.
“I know, she is-.”
“Don’t worry about her,” Anjali cut him off with a wave of dismissal. She had no patience for Priya’s drama anymore. “I have made lunch for everyone; you guys can eat whenever you feel like.” She grabbed her purse from the bed, slinging it on her shoulder. She needed a break from this house and its tension. “Amyra has invited me over for lunch at hers, I’ll get going.”
Priyanshu looked down at the floor, feeling a pang of guilt. He wished he could go with her, or at least make her stay. He wanted to spend some time with her, to talk to her, to apologize for his sister’s behavior. But he knew she needed some space and some fun. “Do you want me to drop you off?” he asked, hoping she would say yes.
“No, it’s fine,” Anjali gave him a small smile. She appreciated his gesture, but she didn’t want to burden him. She knew he had work to do and other responsibilities to take care of. “I might be a little late though. Ask ma to manage for dinner.”
Priyanshu nodded, watching his wife walk out of the room. He felt a surge of love and admiration for her. She was such a strong and independent woman, who had sacrificed so much for him and his family. He wished he could show her how much he cared for her and how proud he was of her.
“Lemonade is in the fridge,” Anjali called out, smiling the rest of her way out.
…
In the bustling streets of vibrant Hazratganj market, Ruchi heaved a deep breath and summoned courage to step into a quaint little shop. Despite her age and growth throughout the years, she was still a timid girl with perpetual doubt lingering in her mind. Her heart fluttered with anticipation as she hoped to find something which she was specifically here for. She just wanted something to drink, to quench her thirst in the unrelenting heat. Yet, her lack of confidence cast a shadow on her every move.
As Ruchi approached the counter, she found herself entangled in a web of intricate transactions unfolding before her. One by one, customers arrived and effortlessly claimed their turn, as if they possessed an invisible force that bypassed her presence. Her attempts to speak up were thwarted by a wave of indifference, leaving her feeling invisible and insignificant.
Each passing moment intensified her feelings of inadequacy. Her trembling hands clutched a small item she had chose, a tiny bottle of Pepsi, but with every intervention, her grasp weakened. The queue swirled around her like a vortex, and Ruchi’s self-esteem dwindled with each lost opportunity.
Defeated and on the verge of tears, Ruchi mustered one final attempt to make her presence known. She raised her voice, only to be met with impatient sighs and irritated glares from those around her. It was as if the universe conspired to reaffirm her insecurities.
With a heavy heart, Ruchi reluctantly accepted her perceived fate and began to retreat. As she turned away from the counter, her gaze fell upon a figure striding through the crowd with an air of confidence that seemed to part the sea of people. It was a young woman, almost of same age as her, radiating self-assurance and purpose.
Intrigued, Ruchi paused to observe the newfound arrival. The confident woman approached the counter, her voice projecting clarity and conviction. The shopkeeper's attention immediately shifted, captivated by the unwavering assurance in her words. Ruchi's eyes widened as she watched the transaction unfold seamlessly, effortlessly.
A pang of jealousy surged through Ruchi's veins. She couldn't help but yearn for the self-assurance the woman possessed. In that moment, her own reflection appeared blurry and distorted, overshadowed by the resplendent confidence displayed before her.
As Ruchi's spirits plummeted, her phone vibrated, causing her to swiftly pick it up. She yearned for any distraction that would make her appear nonchalant, concealing the sting of failure from a mere transaction. With forced cheerfulness, she chirped into the phone, trying to mask her disappointment. However, she instinctively looked down, feeling the weight of a man's disapproving glare, as if her happiness was an offense.
"Hey, Ira!" Ruchi greeted, her voice lacking the initial buoyancy she had mustered. She sighed, glancing at her empty hands that held no shopping bags despite wandering the market for two long hours.
"Hey, girl. Where are you?" Amyra’s voice resonated through the phone, carrying a mixture of concern and excitement.
"I was just out shopping," Ruchi replied, her voice heavy with a tinge of dejection. The absence of tangible purchases felt like a glaring reminder of her perceived failure.
"Are you done?" Amyra inquired, her tone shifting slightly, perhaps sensing Ruchi's disappointment.
"Yeah, it's not like I accomplished much," Ruchi muttered, her words heavy with self-doubt and resignation.
"Good, so I've invited everyone, and we're hanging out tonight."
"Wow, all of a sudden?"
"Yeah, I was feeling a bit overwhelmed by this new place and the shift, so Adil suggested I should meet up with all of you to ease my nerves.”
"Cool, cool. I'll be there," Ruchi replied, her tone brighter as she embraced the distraction of upcoming plans. After a few more minutes of small talk, they hung up the call, and Ruchi readied herself to leave.
Jutting her hand out to hail an auto-rickshaw, Ruchi was taken aback as one screeched to a halt right before her, seemingly in perfect synchronization with her intention. She barely had a chance to utter a word when a woman's voice resonated assertively from behind her. And it was the same woman from before.
"Rajajipuram?" the woman inquired; her voice heavy with determination.
"Booking only," the auto driver warned, his fatigue evident in the scorching heat.
"I know," the woman dismissed the driver's caution, brushing past Ruchi and settling herself comfortably on the seat.
Ruchi's fists involuntarily clenched, her nails digging into her palms as she bit down on her lip. Jealousy mingled with frustration as she watched the woman confidently assert her presence, seemingly immune to the barriers that had weighed heavily on Ruchi's own experience.
In that moment, the scorching heat intensified, mirroring the burning emotions within Ruchi.
…
The man stood in front of the bathroom mirror, the soft illumination from a vintage sconce casting a subtle glow on his surroundings. The room exuded a quiet charm, with pale blue walls adorned by delicate floral wallpaper, reminiscent of a bygone era. A porcelain sink, speckled with age but still elegant, stood as a centerpiece, reflecting the room's sense of timeless beauty.
His eyes, deep pools of introspection, met the enigmatic reflection that stared back at him. There was a hint of a secret purpose in his gaze, an unseen desire that went beyond a mere smile. His hands moved with a grace both deliberate and mysterious, as he sought to coax something more profound from his reflection.
With a gentle touch, he subtly adjusted the corners of his lips, invoking a subtle transformation in his expression. Using subtle intensity, he began the delicate dance of perfecting his countenance. His fingers grazed his lips, gently twitching the corners upward, seeking to shape a smile that felt genuine. But the task proved arduous, as if a veil of hesitation hung between him and the reflection he sought.
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His brows furrowed in concentration as he fixed his expression, urging every muscle to comply with his desires. The strain grew palpable, trembling through his body until his hands shook with effort. Overwhelmed, he needed to steady himself, and he leaned heavily against the sink, its cool porcelain offering support and solace.
In that moment of vulnerability, he caught his breath, gathering strength to face his reflection once more. With a flicker of defiance in his eyes, he raised his gaze and locked eyes with himself. A subtle smirk tugged at the corners of his lips, defying the struggle etched upon his face. It was a defiance born of resilience, a quiet rebellion against the challenges that tested his resolve.
In that moment, the mirror's reflection revealed fragments of the man's elusive nature. His perfected smile held a touch of enigma, an invitation to delve deeper into the labyrinthine depths of his being. The lines on his face, softened yet marked by a hidden history, hinted at tales untold and secrets yet to be uncovered.
In the hushed ambiance of the room, he caught a glimpse of the mysterious man he yearned to understand. A puzzle, intricate and complex, waited to be deciphered, beckoning those curious enough to embrace the unknown. And as he stood there, his smile a cryptic symbol of his journey, the room itself seemed to hold its breath, guarding the mysteries it held within its timeless walls.
...
“Here, have a seat. Make yourself at home,” Amyra smiled, gesturing at the couch in the middle of the living room. The room was cozy and inviting, decorated with colorful cushions, paintings, and plants. A large window overlooked the city skyline, creating a contrast between the warmth inside and the chaos outside.
“So Adil left you to deal with all the hospitality, huh?” Anupam grinned, taking a seat on the couch. He felt a wave of nostalgia as he looked around the room. He had known Adil since college, and they had been close friends ever since. He had seen him go through many phases and changes in his life, but he had never seen him happier than with Amyra.
“I guess,” Amyra shrugged playfully, seating across the man. “He’s been taking a bath for an hour now.”
“God, still a freak,” Anupam chuckled, looking back on the times when they were late to most of the events because of Adil’s obsession with hygiene. “You know, it was Adil who made us all late for Anju’s reception.”
“No way,” she giggled. “You are telling me now?”
“Oh, what was I supposed to tell you? Your soon to be boyfriend got us all late because of his weird habit of long showers.” Anupam teased her.
Amyra shook her head, “I think it’s kind of funny, how he manages it. Long showers and the long distance he has to cover early in the morning every day.” Her gaze flickered to her phone which lit up for a second to alert for an incoming message. She smiled as she glimpsed at their photo together which she had set for wallpaper. It was taken on their last trip to Goa, where they had enjoyed the sun, the sand, and each other’s company. “He’s amazing, isn’t he?”
“He has got to be,” There was a playful tone in his voice, but also a hint of sadness. He longed for the kind of happiness and love that both of them seemed to have found, but it felt so far out of reach. “It was never easy to entice the English teacher, was it?”
Amyra got up, playfully shaking her head. “What does your single ass know about enticing?” With a small laugh, she asked and changed the subject, “Cold coffee?”
“That’d be great,” His smile was a little strained now and when Amyra left, it completely fell. He sighed, feeling a lump in his throat.
Anupam, consumed by a sense of melancholy, mustered the strength to rise from the embrace of the worn-out couch. With slumped shoulders and weary eyes, he approached the nearby window, hoping for a momentary distraction from the weight of his thoughts. As he hesitantly peered outside, a surge of desolation washed over him, like a heavy fog enveloping his spirit.
His gaze fell upon the bustling traffic of the highway, its ceaseless motion a stark reminder of a world that seemed to move effortlessly forward while he remained stuck in a state of inertia. The cars and trucks whizzed by, each representing a fleeting existence, a story rushing past without notice. Their vibrant colors and glimmering headlights felt like mocking reminders of the vibrancy he longed to regain.
But all of a sudden, in the next instant, Anupam found himself immersed in the symphony of the highway. Towers of trucks surrounded him, their growling engines and honking horns reverberating through his core. Their colossal forms, adorned with intricate patterns and reflective surfaces, created a mesmerizing tapestry that stretched as far as the eye could see.
The air crackled with energy, infused with the scent of burnt rubber and diesel fuel. The rhythmic whoosh of passing vehicles created a symphony of motion, accompanied by the chorus of tire treads kissing the pavement. The atmosphere buzzed with anticipation, as if the very essence of adventure permeated the air.
Caught between awe and trepidation, Anupam stood in the midst of this mesmerizing spectacle. Time seemed to slow as he tried to make sense of the orchestrated chaos. His eyes darted from truck to truck, attempting to decipher the cryptic patterns of movement, seeking a safe passage amidst the intricate dance of wheels and steel.
Seized in a moment of suspended disbelief, Anupam began to move around, nearly dodging the oncoming traffic. He was silent and lost, trying to navigate the intricate dance of the traffic. His heart pounded against his chest, a wild rhythm that mirrored the chaos surrounding him. Anxiety gripped him, its icy tendrils creeping up his spine.
Just as panic threatened to engulf him, an ethereal voice, gentle yet commanding, pierced through the clamor.
"Anupam."
The sound was reminiscent of wind whispering through ancient trees, carrying a sense of familiarity that instantly calmed his racing heart. Anupam turned towards the source of the voice, his eyes still closed, bracing himself for the inevitable impact of the oncoming truck.
In that suspended moment between fear and surrender, the voice called his name once more, like a lifeline cast into the turbulent sea of uncertainty. And with a surge of hope, Anupam dared to open his eyes, and turned to face the source of the voice.
Spinning around, he caught sight of a breathtaking figure, glowing with an otherworldly radiance. Her flowing hair seemed to shimmer in the frenzied bustle of the city traffic, her delicate features and enchanting smile casting a spell over him. For a moment, he felt as if time had stood still, his heart racing as he beheld this ethereal beauty amidst the clamor of honking horns and screeching brakes. It was a surreal, almost dreamlike moment that left him breathless and spellbound.
But as his name was called out once again, the voice wasn’t the same as before, and the figure’s lips didn’t move. Instead, the figure waved his hand at him, a supposed goodbye.
Veering around once again, Anupam smiled as Amyra approached him with a cup of cold coffee.
…
Shehzan jolted awake, gasping for air. He felt a surge of panic and dread as he realized that he had just had the same terrible nightmare.
He shook his head, trying to erase the images from his mind. He reached for his bedside lamp, but his hand trembled so much that he knocked it over. He cursed under his breath and fumbled for his phone. He checked the time. It was 1 pm. He sighed, putting the phone back in its place.
He got up from his bed and stumbled towards the bathroom. A wave of nausea and dizziness hit him as he walked. He felt like he was still in the nightmare, still in danger.
He turned on the faucet and splashed some water on his face. He looked at himself in the mirror and grimaced. He looked like a ghost of his former self. His hair was disheveled, his eyes were bloodshot, and his face was pale. His lips were dry and cracked, his nose was runny, and his ears were ringing. His body was sore and stiff, his muscles were tense and achy, and his skin was clammy and cold.
He needed something to calm him down, something to make him feel alive again. He grabbed a glass from the sink and filled it with water. He lifted it to his lips, but then changed his mind. He tilted his head back and poured the water over his head instead.
He felt the cold liquid run down his scalp, his neck, his shoulders, his chest. He felt a shock of sensation that made him shiver and gasp. He felt a surge of adrenaline that made him feel awake and alert. He felt a release of tension that made him relax and sigh.
He felt a surge of relief wash over him as he smiled weakly. He dabbed his face with a towel and flung the glass into the sink. He dragged himself back to his bed, flopping down on it and burrowing under the covers when his phone blared loudly.
He snatched it up, and with a raspy voice, said, “Yeah?”
“Dude, are you napping?”
“Nope, I just gargle with gravel,” Shehzan said sarcastically.
“Cool, cool. Listen, we’re all hanging out at Adil’s, you coming?”
“Nah, I have better things to do.”
Like that, Shehzan tossed his phone aside and drifted back to sleep.
…
The room exuded an atmosphere of sterility and impersonality, as the harsh glow of fluorescent lights bathed every corner. The air hung heavy with the strong scent of disinfectant and stale coffee, while the sound of footsteps reverberated through the deserted hallways. Behind the imposing desk, the officer raised his head, his expression stern, as he acknowledged the approaching man. His uniform was pristine, every crease perfectly pressed.
Sensing the gravity of the situation, the man paused, inhaling deeply before speaking, "Officer Khan."
With a nod, the officer behind the front desk refrained from further inquiry and simply gestured with a finger towards a specific office in the bustling lobby. The walls of the lobby were adorned with a pale shade of blue, while the floor was lined with dull grey tiles. Desks and chairs formed neat rows, offering rest to those waiting for assistance from the officers. Positioned at the corner of the room, a spacious office buzzed with activity as several officers diligently typed on their computers. Adjacent to it was a comparatively smaller office, the man's intended destination. The air was filled with hushed conversations as he approached the office, carrying an air of casual indifference.
“Wow, look who’s here!” The officer gasped, shocked by the man’s sudden appearance.
The man quickly shut the door to the office, and plopped himself down in front of the stunned officer. “Yeah, look who’s here.”
“Mister Peter Stanford, you must know that I’m forbidden to entertain visitors during work hours like this,” the officer’s expression turned grave. “If you have a pressing matter, report it to the officers outside. They’ll file your case.”
A wry smile tugged at Peter's lips, and his eyes bore into the officer. "How ironic. You can barge into a school whenever you feel like it, but I can't approach a public servant?" Resting his chin on his palm, he maintained an air of calm composure.
Officer Khan bit his cheek, suppressing his irritation. “What do you want from me?”
"I simply had a question," Peter's gaze shifted towards the bulletin board adorned with various post-its, notes, and pictures. The adjacent wall displayed motivational posters and law enforcement memorabilia.
"Get to the point," the officer's patience teetered on the edge.
"Is it considered illegal for a teacher to have any kind of connection with a student?" His words flowed effortlessly, carrying an innate smoothness that nearly made the officer spill his chai.
“Are you kidding me? Of course, it is! What are you planning to confess?” Khan’s eyes widened. “And no, it’s not just illegal; it’s abhorrent.”
Peter tilted his head, his eyes reflecting no concern for the audacious question he had posed to the officer. "What about an ex-student?"
"No, it's not illegal. But..." The officer's response was interrupted.
"But the way you hurled accusations at us that day suggested otherwise," Peter sarcastically chuckled. "And we weren't even engaged in any physical relationship."
"Mr. Peter, I'm afraid I don't have time for this. It was a long time ago..."
"And the way you judged us, like we were unfit to teach children, really bothered me. It made me question whether what we did was truly immoral," he spat bitterly. "Tell me, was it ethical to barge into a school and make everyone, including the kids, believe that their teachers were criminals? That should be more illegal."
"Look," the officer's patience began to wane. "Since all of you were teaching at the same place, it was easier for us to navigate your workplace and conduct interviews with everyone present. Contacting each person separately would have been a hassle, especially since we had a big case to crack.” He took another sip of his tea, trying to regain his composure. “Like I said, it was almost two weeks ago. Can’t you just… move on?”
"I wish I could, truly. But when the school reopens, and I hear gossips flying around about my colleagues and myself, with the threat of suspension looming, what am I supposed to do?"
"Just..." The officer's voice turned harsh, prompting him to clench his fist in front of his face, attempting to calm himself. “It won’t happen, okay? And if it does, I’ll talk to your principal myself.”
"That's exactly what I wanted to hear," Peter smiled. "You know, I..."
"Sir," a constable burst into the room, his face filled with urgency and fear. "A dead body has been discovered in the Gomti River."
"Oh my God, has Officer Sharma been informed?" The officer swiftly packed his belongings, grabbing his identification and firearm before hastily following the man, leaving Peter alone.
"Hmm, how intriguing," Peter mused, his face expressionless, lacking any hint of emotion. Peter's phone buzzed loudly, interrupting the peaceful silence of the room. He let out a loud groan and rolled his eyes.
…
Adil shook his head in annoyance and grumbled, "Always the busy bee." The robotic voice of the woman on the phone grated on his nerves.
The room was filled with a sense of calm, as the group of his friends sat around talking. The group continued their lively conversation, the big dining room looking smaller now that it was filled with the warmth of their laughter and chatter.
Suddenly, Adil twitched the corners of his lips upwards, "What did I miss?"
Ruchi tittered, her eyes glinting with amusement, "Just some philosophical mumbo jumbo."
Amyra sat quietly for a moment before leaning forward, her eyes wide with wonder, “Do you guys think that mirror can eat people? Like, suck them in by showing them their dark side?”
The group went quiet, pondering their own secrets, as the sun slowly dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the room.