I come home at 2:15 in the night.
Not night, midnight.

My body is exhausted from load, my lashes heavy, wanting to shut, wanting to sleep.

I open the gate of my home. Inside, the dim light in the kitchen is still on. Means Maa is still awake. How she sleeps when I come this late at night? I go inside and close the gate.

I go there and the main room light is on. Baba is doing his bangles work and Maa is making something in the kitchen… wait, chai?? At 2:15 in the night, they do their work like it’s morning.

“Baba, aap itni raat ko kya kar rahe hai?”

“Beta, aa gai tu, aa baith. Main to bas ye neend nahi aa rahi thi, isiliye kaam kar raha tha.”

“Par itni raat ko? Aapko so jana chahiye tha,” I say.

“Ishu beta, aa gai,” she comes with a tea tray in her hand. “Main teri raah dekh rahi thi.”

“Bahut thak gai hu, Maa,” I tell her and sit on the sofa. She gives Baba a cup of tea and comes towards me.
“He Bhagvan, tu to bukhar se tap rahi hai.”

“Mujhe neend aa rahi hai,” I murmur.

“Nazar lag gayi hogi hamari bacchi ko. Maroon rang uspe bahut sundar lagta hai,” Baba comes to me and checks my forehead.

“He Bhagvan, shaadi teri thi ya teri saheli ki? Itna saj-dhaj ke jaane ki kya zarurat thi,” Maa gives me a lecture.

“Maa, shaadi mein to aise hi kapde pehne jaate hai na. Ab main wahan jeans pehen ke thodi jaungi,” I tell her between wake and sleep.

She comes with sukhi mirchi in her fist.
“Mujhe nazar nahi lagi, Maa.”

She waves her hand in a circle from my head to toe.
“Chup kar, tujhe kuch pata nahi hai. Ye nazar hi lagi hai. Main utaar deti hu. Pata nahi kis ki nazar lag gayi meri phool jaisi bacchi ko.”

“Maa—”

She cuts me off and says, “Kala tika lagaye bina ab tu kahin nahi jayegi, tayyar hoke.”

“Thik hai, meri Maa.”

“Sir daba do na, dard kar raha hai,” I plead.

“Pehle jewellery utaar de, thodi comfortable ho ja,” she comes near me and sits beside me.

“Maa, mera bracelet????”

“Maine nahi pehna beta, kaunsa wala?” she says dramatically.

“Are, Maa.”

“Main aaj pehen ke gai thi,” I search for the bracelet.

“To wo to tune pehna tha na, to mere paas kahan se hoga?”

“Maaa, main pehen ke gai thi aaj. Wo nahi mil raha.”

“To tune kahin kho diya??”

“Pata nahi, par mera bracelet wo Collector saheb ke kurte mein phas gaya tha aur—”

I say in one go, and my mom asks, “Kaun Collector saheb?”

“Maa, wo—”

“Haan, kaun?”

“Unka naam, maybe… Vihaan Rathore,” I tell her, still searching for my bracelet, maybe it’s stuck in my lehenga.

“Rathore? Beta, tum kinse mili thi?” Maa asks, her voice feeling tense.

“Maa, wo jaane do. Mera favourite bracelet nahi mil raha.”

“Beta, par wo—Collector—”

“Maa, use jaane do na. Pehle mera bracelet.”

“He Bhagvan… kya hoga is ladki ka. Tujhe pata bhi hai wo kaun tha?”

I ignore her dramatical acting and go to my room. I suddenly remember his dark grey eyes.

I talk to myself, “Ishu, kahin unse takra ke tune koi galti to nahi ki na?”

I go to my room, change into night clothes, and sleep.

The night is too short.

My alarm rings at 7:00 a.m., like every day.

I sit on the bed while smearing my eyes, because they are burning like hell. I’m not in the mood for meditation, so I decide to do my journaling.

I go to my study table, open my journal, and start writing.

“Title: 12th of Dec,

Dear diary…

So last day I attended my best friend’s wedding and it was fun. I mean, I’m happy for her. But that thought of leaving the house you grow up in—from child to adult—and going to someone else’s home is a little bit scary, right?

Last day I met too many people. That sweet… I mean not so sweet Dadi ji, and that one silent man… I mean, who is that much silent all day? Anyways, the bad news is I lost my favourite bracelet in her wedding.

When he caught me from falling, my bracelet got stuck in his kurta and I saw his eyes.
Dark grey, still… or I say scary… his name is… Vihaan… and I’m writing that silent man in my diary because he is the reason my bracelet is gone… not any other reason… so Maa, if you read my diary then don’t get misunderstood……”

I close the diary and go to the washroom. A hot water bath takes all my tiredness from last day.

I wear a simple yellow kurta and a little yellow bindi and go for college. Maa is in the kitchen. Baba has already gone for the shop. Nidhu is nowhere to be seen.

“Maa…”

She doesn’t listen.

“Are Maa.” I shout while wearing sandals.

“Kya haiii?”

“Are Nidhu kahan gai??”

“Wo tumhari tarah aalsi nahi hai. Morning walk karne gai hai apni friend ke saath,” she taunts.

“Achha, to main aalsi hu ab?”

“Thik hai, phir main to aalsi hi hu. Aapko jo karna ho wo kar lijiye ga. Aur wo saree hai na, Madhu aunty ko di hai aapne silai karwane—wo aapki ladli beti ko kahiye ga laane ko, kyunki main to aalsi hu… main nahi jaungi,” I say.

“Are Ishu beta, tumne to dil pe le liya. Main to mazaak kar rahi thi.”

“Baat aisi thi, Maa, ki direct dil pe lagi,” I say to her.

“Nahi beta, aisa nahi hai. Main to bas—”

“Thik hai, la dungi. Ab rone mat baithna,” I say to her and go towards the gate.

She laughs, “Kal tujhe ladke wale dekhne aa rahe haii.”

I know she is joking, so I laugh and leave for university.

I’m happy because all my pending work is done—assignments, projects, practicals—all done.

I attend my lectures, sit in the canteen at lunchtime, and in the evening I sit in the library for reading. When I open my book, I think of my mom’s joke.

“Tumhe kal ladke wale dekhne aa rahe hai.”

And suddenly I remember him.
Vihaan.

But why do those two thoughts come at the same time?

I don’t know why… but my heart feels something is wrong.

The first thing I notice when I wake is a faint smell of dhoop.
Peaceful.
Light.
Positive.

Dadi sa always wakes before I do. Even Baba and Yashveer Chachu. She thinks a woman has to wake before a man does.

I wake from bed and stand on the balcony. Early morning mist is visible in the environment. I see workers watering plants, trimming grass, picking flowers for puja… maybe Dadi sa told them to bring flowers for puja.

I see Maa sitting near the fountain, feeding a little cat. Baba is leaving for the Jaipur project meeting.
Chachu goes with him too. I work on my schedule, not anyone’s.

I go for a shower, get ready. Wear a white shirt with a grey suit and pants. I stand in front of the dressing table, comb my hair, wear my wristwatch, pick up the handkerchief printed with the initial R.

I go downstairs, go to the mandir. Dadi sa is already sitting there, chanting mantras. I pray and am about to leave, but Dadi sa gives me a nod to stay.

I wait until the mantra is over. One worker comes to Dadi sa, gives her something in her hand, and whispers something in her ear.

I touch her feet. She doesn’t give me aashirvaad like every day.
“Kya hua, Dadi sa? Aaj apne pote ko aashirvaad nahi dogi?”

“Chora, tare se mane jawab chahiye pehle,” she says.

“Konsa jawab?”

“Kal hum sab byah mein gaye the. Tumhare kurte mein se ek chori ka kangan mila hai.”

“Ji?” I question.

The worker standing behind Dadi sa shows me something.
“Vihaan baba, aapke kapde dhone ke liye le gaye the. Usme se ye mila hai.”

Bracelet.
Maroon.

I forgot to remove it from my kurta pocket.
Shit. That’s a problem now.
A mistake.
And caught red-handed.

“Are, wo ladki thi na Dadi sa. Wo hamse takra gayi thi gate pe, aur unka bracelet mere kurte ki sleeve mein phas gaya tha.”
“Shayad reh gaya hoga.”

I lie.
To Dadi sa.

For the first time in my life.
To the one person I respect more than anyone.

For whom?
That girl.

The one I met only for a moment, and still felt something I never felt before.
The girl with brown eyes… too young for a man like me.

I never see a woman without respect in my eyes. I saw her with respect too.
But something shifted.

I can’t forget the eyes.
I can’t forget the hair.
I can’t forget the—

“Putle ki tarah kya khada hai, chora?”

“Kaun chori thi?”

“Wo jo gate pe hame lene aayi thi,” I say without looking at Dadi sa.

Suddenly her tone changes.
Softer.
Sweeter.
Intentional.

“Are wo chori,” she says, hopeful.

“Ji.”

“Uska naam kya tha… haan, Ishika.” She smiles.

I don’t know what thought crosses her mind, but it’s not harmless.

“Ghani khubsurat chori thi. Mare pair bhi chue us chori ne. Ghani sanskari ghar ki lage hai.”

I understand her intention.
Her thoughts.
Her idea.

“Dadi sa, hum chalte hai. Hame der ho rahi hai, office jana hai,” I excuse myself from the danger.

“Are chora, shaam ko jaldi aa jana. Thara kaam hai mane,” she stands and walks towards the Rathore Haveli garden.

“Ji,” I say and leave.

I don’t know what she is planning, but I can feel it—
Something I’m not ready for.

I sit in the car. The driver drives towards the government sector office.

I arrive at the office. All employees greet me with good morning. I nod and walk towards my cabin.

I sit, open the laptop, see the blueprints I’m about to complete.
I sign all the tenders for construction.

No pending work today.

I see one employee talking to an old man—without respect.

And then the thing I fear happens.

Anger.

I move towards him with heavy steps, because I don’t know what I’m about to do.

I grab the employee by his collar, one hand fisted. I try to control my anger, but I can’t.

“What… is this behaviour?” I speak calmly.

“Sir, wo… main to bas—”

Before he can speak further, my hand lands on his face.
Heavy.
Sharp.

His face is marked with my palm.
“I ASKED—WHAT IS THIS BEHAVIOUR TOWARDS AN ELDER?”

I shout. My blood runs fast. I can’t function properly.
All I feel is rage.

I want to break him until he forgets how to breathe.

Everyone watches.
No one dares to interfere.

I grab him again.
“I ask… what. is. this. behaviour?”

“I—I’m so—sorry…” he pleads.

I raise my hand again—

“Vihaan… stop.”

Baba’s voice.

One word.
And I stop.

I never stay to explain myself.
I never say what the man did.

I walk straight into my cabin. Because if I stay, I won’t stop.

I slam the door shut. Walk to the table. Try to calm myself.
Slow breaths—but they don’t help.

I punch the wall.
My knuckles split.
Blood runs down.

I breathe slow, but the anger doesn’t leave.
I don’t know how to control it.

I close my eyes.
Remember Dadi sa’s words:
“Shaam ko jaldi aa jana, chora.”

I leave the office.
To my car.
To home.

The drive is too quiet.
I drive myself.

Rathore Haveli comes into view.

I park the car and go inside.
Dadi sa, Maa, and Chachi are sitting in the main hall. Maa is on the phone, smiling softly. Chachi and Dadi sa look at me.

I can’t face them right now. I turn towards the stairs.

Dadi sa speaks,
“Chora, kal thare vaste ladki dekhne jana hai. Daftar mein chutti rakhiyo.”

For a moment, I stop.
My mind is still burning.

I can’t ignore her command.
So I say,
“Ji, Dadi.”

I go to my room.
Sit on the bed.

Only one thought remains.

Whoever she is—
She can’t survive my temper.

That is why I never thought of marriage.
Because when anger takes me, I can destroy anyone.

Even myself.