Chapter 20

Mayank woke up at 6 AM, the soft light filtering through the curtains of his room. The air felt cool against his skin as he rubbed his eyes, shaking off the remnants of sleep. He brushed his teeth quickly and stepped into the warm shower, the hot water soothing his muscles. The hustle of the day ahead was already stirring outside, and the sounds of Indore were filtering through the windows.

He got dressed in a pale green kurta with matching pants, the fabric light and comfortable. As he walked outside, he could hear the laughter and chatter of people preparing for the day. The streets were alive with activity—vendors shouting, cars honking, and children running around. It was the perfect blend of organized chaos that Mayank had come to love about this place.

He met his friends who were sitting at a small table, sipping chai and eating breakfast. "Bro, the food here is insane," Arjun said, taking a bite of a kachori. "You've got to try the poha. Best you'll ever have."

Mayank nodded, his stomach growling in agreement. "Alright, I'm in."

He went to the food stall and saw the same roti guy from yesterday. The man smiled as soon as he saw Mayank. "Good morning, dada! How did you sleep last night?"

Mayank smiled back. "Good morning! Slept well, thank you. How are you today?"

The man handed him a cup of chai. "I'm good, dada. This is Indori special breakfast—poha, kachori, and jalebi." He gestured to the various plates spread out on the counter. "I made sure everything is fresh for you."

Mayank was surprised by his warmth and hospitality. "Thank you," he said, his voice filled with appreciation. "I've never had anything like this before."

The roti guy chuckled. "You're not Marathi, are you? What's your background?"

"No, I'm Bengali," Mayank replied, his smile widening. "I'm Niharika's school friend. You might not know her."

The man's eyes lit up. "No, no! Of course, I know her! She sat with us all yesterday while we were eating, remember? She's a good soul, always taking the time to talk to everyone."

Mayank's heart warmed at the thought of Niharika, her selflessness standing out even to strangers. "I didn't know that," he said, his voice full of admiration. "She's amazing."

As he walked back to his friends, he couldn't stop thinking about what the roti guy had said. He relayed the story to Arjun and Imran, who were both equally impressed by Niharika's actions. "Bro, you got lucky with her," Imran said, giving him a teasing look. "She's not just beautiful, she's got a heart of gold."

"I know, right?" Imran said. Mayank's mind drifted back to her. He could still picture the way she had smiled yesterday, the warmth of her presence. The feeling was almost overwhelming.

The ceremony was about to begin, and as Mayank walked through the crowd, he spotted Niharika standing nearby. She was wearing a pale green saree, her hair flowing freely around her shoulders, and he couldn't help but smile at the sight. They were twinning.

He made his way to her, feeling a flutter in his chest as he approached. "Good morning," he said softly, his voice carrying over the noise of the crowd.

Her face lit up when she saw him. "Good morning, Mayank. You're up early."

"I had to check out the food," he said with a grin, "and I have to say, it's fantastic."

She laughed. "Of course, you would. I'm glad you're enjoying the breakfast. We pride ourselves on our food."

As she spoke, Mayank noticed something. There, hidden in her hair, was a small streak of sindoor—a sign of their marriage. His heart skipped a beat, but he hid his reaction well. "You look beautiful today," he said casually, his eyes lingering on her.

She smiled and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Thank you, Mayank. You look good too." She was about to continue when she got called. Excusing herself, she left.

Just then, a woman approached them with a cheerful smile. "Would you like to put on a safa for the ceremony?" she asked, holding out a colorful piece of cloth.

Mayank was a little confused. "A safa?" he asked, glancing at Niharika for clarification.

She smiled and nodded. "It's a traditional part of the ceremony, especially for the men. It's a symbol of respect."

Mayank laughed, feeling a little out of place. "Oh, okay. Sure, I'll try it."

The woman helped him and his friends, who joined him, put on the safas, adjusting them so they sat perfectly on their heads. They looked like an eclectic group of men, each with a safa in different colors and designs.

As they walked toward Niharika, she saw them and laughed. "You all look so funny!" she teased, but there was warmth in her eyes.

"Let me take a picture," she said, pulling out her phone. She clicked a photo of the group with a bright smile, and then Arjun added, "Now, you should join us, Niharika!"

She hesitated for a second, but then passed the camera to Krutika. "Fine, fine," she said with a grin, and positioned herself between Arjun and Mayank for the photo.

Mayank felt a small tug in his chest as he subtly placed his hand on her waist for the picture, his fingers just brushing her side. It wasn't much, but in that moment, it felt like a natural connection, the kind he couldn't quite explain. He was hyper-aware of her presence, the warmth of her body under his hand, the way she smiled up at him. For a brief moment, they looked at each other and he felt as if time had slowed down, and the world had faded to just the two of them. But then, as quickly as it had come, the moment passed, and they were back to the hustle of the ceremony.

After the photo, the group began to settle into their spots, watching the ceremony unfold. Mayank found himself lost in the rituals, watching Niharika as she moved through the crowd. She came over to him after a few minutes, her eyes twinkling with curiosity.

"Are you lost in the ceremony?" she asked softly.

"Yeah," he admitted with a laugh. "It's just so different, and yet so familiar. It feels like the same things we did at our wedding."

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You remember?" she asked, as if surprised by his observation.

"Yeah, there's a lot of similarities. It's the same core rituals. The only difference is in how they're done."

She smiled knowingly. "Yeah, it's basically the same in most Marathi weddings, just a few little differences in traditions. For example, we have the 'Munja' ceremony here—sort of like a rite of passage for boys. It's when they put on the sacred thread, signifying the start of their spiritual journey."

Mayank looked at her, intrigued. "A rite of passage? How does it work?"

"Well," Niharika began, "the boy gets dressed in a special outfit and has to go through a small ceremony where the thread is tied by the priest. His hair is shaved off too—but that's optional now. It's a significant moment for the family, marking his transition into adulthood."

Mayank nodded, surprised at the depth of the tradition. "That's fascinating. It's like a coming-of-age ritual, almost."

She smiled, proud of sharing the tradition with him. "Exactly. It's very important to us."

"I'm guessing Rahil had done it too?" He asked.

She nodded, "When he was 9. He doesn't remember much about it now—but it was good."

Before he could say anything more, she was called away by someone, and Mayank continued to watch the ceremony with awe. He noticed her mother, Yangeeta, sitting in a corner, watching everything unfold with a contented expression on her face. He walked over to her and smiled.

"You look handsome in that safa," Yangeeta said warmly when she saw him.

"Thank you," Mayank said, sitting down next to her. "It's different, but I like it."

As they chatted, Mayank's attention shifted to the cousins, who were all holding cricket bats and discussing the next match. Niharika was scolding them, hands on her hips. "Not now!" she said, clearly exasperated. "There's a ceremony going on!"

Mayank chuckled as he walked over to them. "Niharika, one game won't hurt, right?"

Her cousins immediately rallied behind him. "Yes! He gets it! Let us play!"

Niharika threw her hands up in surrender. "Fine, fine. Just one game, but no funny business."

They started playing, with Mayank feeling like he was fitting in perfectly with Niharika's cousins. There was something about their easygoing nature, their jokes and laughter, that made him feel welcome. After a while, Niharika came out to call them back inside for lunch.

As she walked toward them, one of the cousins hit the ball too hard.

Mayank's heart stopped for a second as he saw the trajectory. She's not looking. She doesn't see it coming.

Mayank saw it hurtling toward her, and without thinking, he ran toward her. He reached her just in time, grabbing her waist and pulling her away from the trajectory of the ball.

Her breath hitched as they collided, his hands firm around her waist. He could feel her heartbeat against his chest, and for a moment, everything seemed to freeze. His fingers pressed gently into her side, his heart racing as he realized how close they were. The warmth of her body radiated against him, and he felt the undeniable spark between them.

He hadn't meant to hold on for so long, but his body didn't seem to want to let go. Slowly, as if caught in the moment, he released her waist, their gazes locking.

"Thanks for saving me," Niharika said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Anytime," Mayank replied, his heart still pounding in his chest.

This moment wasn't just a fleeting one, he realized. There was something much deeper between them. Something that, even now, neither of them could completely deny.

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