“Ma, pack a heavy lunch for me, I may be late!” called out Kritika, a lissom beauty of about 21, her voice ringing through the sunlit kitchen. She stood in the doorway, her long, dark hair cascading in loose waves down her back, catching the light in a way that made it seem almost iridescent. Her almond-shaped eyes sparkled with mischief as she hastily tied the laces of her sneakers, her slender fingers fumbling in her rush.
Her mother, Mrs. Nanda, a warm and kind-hearted woman with a gentle smile, turned from the stove, holding a wooden spoon covered in spices. “Late again, Kriti? What are you up to this time?” she asked, raising an eyebrow playfully. Her voice was filled with love, laced with teasing, as she watched her daughter’s usual morning hustle.
“Oh, Ma, you know how it is. Professor Mehta’s lecture always drags on, and then there’s the debate practice. After that, I have to help Chandra uncle in the bookstore as his accountant is ill. So, the day would be long, and you know how hungry I become in no time,” Kritika replied, hopping on one foot as she tried to put on her other shoe. In her hurry, she knocked over a stack of books on the table, sending them clattering to the floor. She winced and looked sheepishly at her mother. “Oops… Sorry, Ma!”
Mrs. Nanda chuckled, shaking her head. “You’re always in such a rush, Kriti. Slow down a bit, you’ll end up tripping over your own feet one of these days!” She bent down to help pick up the books, her eyes softening as she looked at her daughter, who was now attempting to scoop them up with both hands but only managing to make more of a mess.
Kritika, with her rosy cheeks now flushed with a mix of embarrassment and amusement, finally gave up on the books and looked at her mother, her full lips curving into a bright smile. “Thanks, Ma. I don’t know what I’d do without you. And you’re right, I probably would trip! You know how clumsy I can be.”
“You’re clumsy, but you’re my beautiful girl,” Mrs. Nanda said affectionately, brushing a strand of hair away from Kritika’s face. “You have this way of making chaos look charming.” She turned back to the stove, stirring a pot of fragrant curry. “Now, about that lunch. I’ll pack your favourite aloo paratha and some of that tamarind chutney you love so much. And don’t forget, you promised to have dinner with us tonight.”
Kritika beamed, her eyes shining with gratitude. “You always know how to make everything better, Ma. I promise I’ll be back for dinner. I wouldn’t miss your cooking for the world!” She finally managed to get her shoes on, but in her haste, she nearly tripped over the kitchen mat. Mrs. Nanda caught her just in time, laughing as she steadied her.
“Careful, Kriti! I don’t want you getting hurt before you even leave the house!” Mrs. Nanda handed her the lunchbox, which was wrapped in a floral cloth. “Here you go. And remember, take a moment to breathe. You’re always in such a rush that you miss the little things.”
Kritika took the lunchbox, her heart swelling with love for her mother. She leaned in and gave her a quick, affectionate kiss on the cheek. “You’re the best, Ma. I’ll try to slow down, I promise. But I can’t help it, there’s just so much to do, and I want to do it all!” She laughed; her voice filled with the exuberance of youth.
Mrs. Nanda smiled, her eyes twinkling as she watched her daughter. “I know, my dear. Just remember, you don’t have to do everything at once. Take your time, and enjoy the journey.”
Kritika nodded, her smile softening as she looked at her mother, feeling a deep sense of gratitude and love. “I will, Ma. And I’ll be back tonight for dinner, no matter how late it gets.”
With that, she grabbed her bag and dashed out the door, turning back one last time to wave at her mother, who stood in the doorway, watching her with a tender smile.
That sunny afternoon, at the bookstore, Kritika was poring over the credit and debit ledger as she munched on the ‘aloo parantha’ that her mother had packed for the day.
That is when Mr Chandra , the owner of the charming book store , called out to her, “ Kriti , I have some job to do at the market square . Do look after everything , you little imp , I will be back in ten minutes”, saying so he shuffled out of the heavy wooden door.
“ I know uncle, Mishra uncle has come to visit Vasu , his son and he is your bridge partner, so you are going for a game with him and your friends. Don’t worry , I will look after things like you do. Take your time” . Always one for theatrics, Kritika decided to fully embrace the role of “Mr. Chandra.” With a mischievous grin, she rummaged through the small closet in the back of the bookstore and found one of Chandra uncle’s old ties and a monocle. She held them up, her eyes twinkling with mischief.
“This is going to be hilarious,” she muttered to herself as she clumsily looped the tie around her neck, attempting to knot it the way she had seen men do. It took her a few tries—first the knot was too loose, then too tight, almost choking her in the process. “How do they wear these things every day?” she grumbled, pulling a face at the mirror.
Finally, she managed to get the tie to sit somewhat properly, though it was still slightly crooked. She tied her hair into a tight bun and tucked in all the straying strands with pins that she rummaged out of her cluttered hand-bag, then grabbed the monocle, squinting one eye shut as she tried to hold it in place with the other. “Now I look like a serious book expert,” she said to her reflection, but her lips kept twitching as she tried not to burst into laughter. Standing in front of the counter, she cleared her throat in an exaggeratedly deep voice. “Mr. Chandra at your service,” she announced to the empty store, giggling at her own antics.
The reason she called herself a “Mr.” even though she was clearly a girl was simple—Kritika loved playing around with roles and making life a little more fun, especially in the usually quiet bookstore. It was part of her playful nature, and she knew Chandra uncle wouldn’t mind. He often joked that she had the spirit of a hundred different characters inside her, always ready to spring out at any moment.
She loved the quiet time ( or her playtime ?), surrounded by books and the faint smell of old paper. Humming to herself, she was lost in the pages of a novel when the doorbell jingled, signalling a new customer.
A tall, somewhat serious-looking young man entered, his eyes scanning the rows of books before settling on the counter where Kritika was seated. He looked slightly nervous, clutching a folder under his arm.
Rajesh , a completely unsuspecting young man, approached Kritika who adopted her serious pose, tying the already crooked tie a little tighter and squinting through the monocle. She could barely keep a straight face, but she was determined to keep up the ruse for as long as possible.
“Good afternoon ! How can I help you?” she asked, her tone friendly and professional.
“Good afternoon, Miss . I’m looking for Mr. Chandra,” the man replied, adjusting his glasses. “I’ve heard so much about his expertise, and I’m really in need of some guidance.”
When he asked for Mr. Chandra, she saw the perfect opportunity to dive into her role. Her eyes twinkled with mischief. She knew Chandra uncle wouldn’t be back for a while, and the idea of posing as him seemed too fun to resist. She straightened up, adopting what she imagined was a more authoritative stance.
“Ah, yes, Mr. Chandra,” she said, deepening her voice slightly in an attempt to sound more serious. “That would be me.”
The man looked surprised, glancing at her sceptically. “You’re Mr. Chandra?”
“Yes, indeed,” Kritika replied, trying to keep a straight face. “People often expect me to look… different. But, as you can see, I am youthful and full of life!” She waved her hand theatrically. “Mr. Chandra could look like anyone, couldn’t he?” she bit her lip to stop from laughing as she adjusted the monocle yet again, trying to make herself look as authoritative as possible.
Rajesh, utterly oblivious, fell right into her little game, mistaking her playful disguise for a strange but genuine attempt at professionalism by a young teenage pretty looking boy. Kritika, in her crooked tie and wobbly monocle, continued to guide him through increasingly absurd suggestions, all while fighting back laughter, enjoying every moment of her little charade.
He blinked, clearly confused but not wanting to be rude. “Oh, I see… well, I suppose I shouldn’t judge a book by its cover.”
Kritika nodded sagely. “Exactly! Now, what can I do for you today, young man?”
Still a bit unsure, he cleared his throat. “My name is Rajesh. I’m an aspiring author, and I’ve just finished writing my first book. I’ve heard that you’re the go-to person for advice on book releases and marketing strategies.”
Kritika leaned forward, trying to look as wise as possible. “Of course, Rajesh! Book releases are my specialty. Tell me, what genre is your book?”
“It’s a mystery novel,” Rajesh said, now feeling more confident. “I’ve spent years crafting it, and I want to make sure I do everything right when it comes to publishing and marketing.”
Kritika nodded, stroking her chin thoughtfully, just like she had seen Chandra uncle do. “Ah, a mystery novel. Fascinating! Now, let me give you some expert advice.”
Rajesh leaned in, eager to hear what “Mr. Chandra” had to say.
“First,” Kritika began, trying to keep a straight face, “you must ensure that your book cover is the most mysterious thing anyone has ever seen. Perhaps, just a plain black cover with a tiny question mark in the centre. Minimalism is key. It will drive people mad with curiosity!”
Rajesh frowned slightly, trying to picture it. “A plain black cover with a question mark? But… wouldn’t that be too simple?”
Kritika shook her head. “Not at all! Simplicity is the new complexity, my friend. And for the title… keep it vague. How about ‘The Untold’? Or maybe just ‘Why?’”
Rajesh’s eyebrows furrowed, but he nodded slowly. “I guess that could work… it’s certainly different.”
“Different is what sells!” Kritika declared with a flourish. “Now, for the book launch, you should make it as mysterious as possible. Invite people to an undisclosed location and make them search for clues to find out where the event is happening.”
Rajesh’s eyes widened. “An undisclosed location? Won’t that make it hard for people to actually attend?”
“That’s the beauty of it!” Kritika said, struggling to suppress her giggles. “Only the truly dedicated fans will find it. It’ll create a buzz, and everyone will be talking about it.”
Rajesh scratched his head, clearly unsure but feeling that he couldn’t question the “expertise” of the famous Mr. Chandra. “I suppose that’s true…”
Kritika, still revelling in her role, leaned in with a mock-serious expression, ready to dish out more of her “expert” advice. “Now, Rajesh, if you really want your book to stand out, you need to think outside the box… literally!”
Rajesh, caught up in the bizarre yet oddly compelling suggestions, nodded eagerly. “Outside the box? What do you mean?”
Kritika’s eyes gleamed with mischief as she continued, “For your book launch, consider sending out invitations in the form of mysterious objects—like a single feather, a broken key, or even a locked box with no key! Your guests will have to figure out how to open the box before they even know where the event is. It’s all about creating suspense!”
Rajesh blinked, trying to keep up with the wild ideas. “A locked box… but how will they open it?”
“That’s the mystery!” Kritika exclaimed, waving her hands dramatically. “They’ll have to search for clues around town, maybe hidden in old libraries or beneath park benches. By the time they get to the launch, they’ll be so invested in the story that they’ll have no choice but to buy the book!”
Rajesh’s eyes widened as he absorbed the idea. “That sounds… intense. But I suppose it would make the launch unforgettable.”
“Oh, it will be,” Kritika assured him, barely containing her laughter. “And for the refreshments at the event, make sure they’re as cryptic as the book. Serve drinks with mysterious names like ‘The Midnight Fog’ or ‘Whispering Shadows.’ Maybe even have a dish that’s covered so no one knows what they’re eating until they take a bite!”
Rajesh tilted his head, looking a bit puzzled. “But… what if people don’t like surprises in their food?”
Kritika waved off the concern. “That’s the thrill of it! They’ll remember your book launch not just for the book, but for the whole experience. It’ll be all over social media—‘Did you survive the mystery launch?’ It’ll go viral!”
Rajesh hesitated, then smiled, starting to enjoy the absurdity of it all. “I suppose it would be something different…”
“And don’t forget,” Kritika added with a mischievous grin, “you could even have a fake ‘mystery guest’ at the event. Someone dressed in a trench coat and fedora, lurking in the shadows, suddenly appears and starts asking cryptic questions about the book. It’ll make everyone think they’re part of a real-life mystery!”
Rajesh was a bit alarmed now, “ Don’t you think that would be going too far?
Kritika nodded firmly. “Trust me, Rajesh. I’ve been in this business a long time. People crave mystery in their lives, and your book and its launch should reflect that. They’ll be dying to read it just to solve the puzzle.”
Rajesh chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re really something, Mr Chandra. I’ve never heard of anything like this before.”
Kritika winked, adjusting her monocle one last time. “That’s because no one has ever dared to try it. But you, Rajesh, you could be the first! Think of it as an adventure—just like the ones in your mystery novel.”
“You are really , something ! Mr Chandra”
“ Mr Chandra ? If she is Mr Chandra then who am I”, Chandra uncle, who had been listening with growing amusement, couldn’t help but join in. Holding a bag of groceries, he was all smiles as his eyes twinkled with mirth.
Neither of them had heard the jingling of the doorbell, and Chandra uncle walk back in, so engrossed were they in their conversation.
Kritika burst out in giggles as Rajesh turned around, his face a mixture of confusion and realization. He looked at Chandra uncle, then back at Kritika, who was now biting her lip, trying to contain her laughter.
“Wait… you’re Mr. Chandra?” Rajesh asked, pointing at the older man.
Chandra uncle, still oblivious of his antecedents, nodded. “Yes, I am. And you must be…?”
“I’m Rajesh,” the young man replied, his voice tinged with both relief and bewilderment. “But I thought… I mean, she said…” He gestured toward Kritika, who was now grinning sheepishly.
Mr Chandra chuckled, shaking his head. “Ah, I see you’ve met my assistant, Kritika. She does have quite the imagination.”
“ You s-s-s-e-e”, stuttered Rajesh with downcast eyes , clearly embarrassed and a bit cross.
“ Don’t fret over it Rajesh , she is a little mischievous.” Mr Chandra said reassuringly.
Kritika burst into laughter, unable to hold it in any longer. “I’m sorry, Rajesh! I couldn’t resist. You seemed so serious, and I thought it would be fun to play along.”
Rajesh, now smiling despite himself, shook his head in amusement. “She really had me going there. I was ready to launch my book in a mystery-themed extravaganza.”
Chandra uncle laughed heartily. “Well, I’m glad you got a taste of Kritika’s creativity. But don’t worry, I’ll give you some real advice now.”
Kritika, still grinning from ear to ear, handed Rajesh back his notebook. “Well, Mr. Chandra and I are always here to help. And remember, mystery is key… but so is fun!”
The remaining part of her stay passed off peacefully without any new adventure and Kritika packed her things, waved goodbye to Mr Chandra, and cycled back home.
………………………..
She burst through the front door, her face flushed with excitement and practically skipped into the kitchen, where Mrs. Nanda was kneading dough for the evening’s chapatis. The rich aroma of spices filled the air, but all Kritika could think about was her afternoon with Rajesh.
“Ma, you won’t believe what happened today!” Kritika exclaimed, her eyes sparkling as she leaned against the kitchen counter, catching her breath.
Mrs. Nanda looked up from her work, a knowing smile playing on her lips. “Let me guess, something to do with a poor boy named Rajesh? I heard all about your little performance at the bookstore. Chandra uncle had a good laugh when he told me.”
Kritika blushed, her excitement momentarily giving way to sheepishness. “Oh, Ma, it wasn’t that bad! I was just having a bit of fun. You should have seen his face when he realized I wasn’t Mr. Chandra!” She couldn’t help but giggle at the memory, her earlier embarrassment melting away.
Mrs. Nanda shook her head, though there was no real scolding in her tone. “You’re lucky Rajesh is a good sport, Kriti. Not everyone would take to your antics so kindly.”
The mother-daughter duo busied themselves with dinner after that.
Back in the town square Rajesh walked out of the bookstore, his mind a whirl of conflicting emotions. On one hand, he felt a twinge of embarrassment at how easily he had fallen for Kritika’s playful deception. But on the other hand, he couldn’t help but smile at the memory of her infectious laughter and sparkling eyes. There was something about her, an undeniable charm that made it impossible to stay annoyed for long.
As the days passed, Rajesh found himself thinking about Kritika more often than he cared to admit. Her lively spirit, the way she spoke with such enthusiasm, and the sheer unpredictability of her nature kept replaying in his mind. He began visiting the bookstore more frequently, always hoping for a chance encounter.
One afternoon, as Rajesh was browsing the shelves, he heard a familiar voice behind him.
“Looking for more mysterious advice, Mr. Author?” Kritika teased, popping up beside him with a playful grin.
Rajesh turned, caught off guard by her sudden appearance. “Oh, uh… I was just… looking for some inspiration,” he stammered, his usual composure slipping.
Kritika chuckled, her eyes twinkling. “Inspiration, huh? Well, you’ve come to the right place. Though, I promise not to give you any more wild ideas… unless you ask for them!”
Rajesh smiled, feeling his earlier embarrassment fading. “I think I’ll pass on the locked boxes this time. But I wouldn’t mind hearing what other creative ideas you have.”
Kritika tilted her head, considering his words. “Oh, I have plenty! But they come with a warning—they might just make your life a little more… interesting.”
“Interesting is good,” Rajesh replied, surprising himself with the honesty in his voice. “I could use a little more of that in my life.”
Kritika raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Is that so? Well then, Mr. Author, how about we take a break from books and grab a coffee? I have some ideas that might just spark your next bestseller.”
Rajesh blinked, taken aback by the sudden invitation. He quickly recovered, nodding with a smile. “Coffee sounds great. Lead the way.”
They walked to a nearby café, their conversation flowing effortlessly. Kritika’s animated gestures and quick wit kept Rajesh thoroughly entertained, while Rajesh’s thoughtful responses and dry humour seemed to draw out even more of Kritika’s playful side.
As they sat down with their drinks, Kritika leaned forward, her eyes dancing with excitement. “So, Rajesh, what’s the next big idea for your book? Or are you still considering the undisclosed location launch?”
Rajesh laughed, shaking his head. “I think I’ll leave the undisclosed locations to the spies. But… I have been thinking about adding a bit more mystery to the storyline. Maybe a character who’s as unpredictable as… well, as you.”
Kritika pretended to be offended, placing a hand dramatically over her heart. “Unpredictable? Me? I’m as steady as they come!”
Rajesh smirked, leaning back in his chair. “If that’s what you call steady, then I’m in for quite the ride.”
Kritika laughed, the sound light and carefree. “Well, buckle up, Mr. Author. Life is a lot more fun when you don’t know what’s coming next.”
………………..
One sultry afternoon Kritika returned home from her classes and found a familiar car parked in front of her house. It was her father’s elder brother who had been the pillar of support to her and her mother, after the sudden passing away of her father when she was just five years old.
Kritika greeted her uncle with a warm smile and folded hands. “Namaste, Chachaji! What brings you here?” she asked, a hint of curiosity in her voice. Mr. Satish Nanda, her mother’s older brother, was a figure of both admiration and respect for Kritika, known for his thoughtful demeanour and keen interest in family matters.
Mrs. Nanda and Mr. Satish shared a quick glance, and Kritika sensed that something more than a casual visit might be at play.
“Oh, I thought I’d stop by for tea and catch up on family news,” Mr. Satish replied smoothly, but his smile hinted that he had more on his mind. Kritika settled beside her mother, waiting for the conversation to unfold.
“I hear from Chandra Uncle,” he added, his eyes twinkling, “that you and Rajesh have been spending quite a bit of time together.” His tone was light, but Kritika could sense the gentle probing in his words.
Kritika laughed, though she could feel her cheeks growing warmer. “Chandra Uncle does love to talk, doesn’t he?” she replied, trying to deflect, but her mother and uncle shared an amused look.
Mrs. Nanda’s playful smile faded slightly as she gave Kritika a more measured look. “You know, Kritika,” she began, a bit more serious now, “it’s fine to help Rajesh, but you should be careful not to get too involved, too quickly. Life doesn’t always go the way we imagine, especially when feelings get tangled up.”
Kritika bit her lip, sensing her mother’s underlying concern. “I know, Ma. I’m just helping him with his book launch – it’s nothing serious,” she replied, though her words felt lighter than the emotions bubbling within her.
But Mrs. Nanda continued, her tone a bit stern now, “Just remember, Kritika, these things can sometimes go further than we intend. You’re young, and he seems like a nice boy, but he’s been through a lot. Make sure you know what you’re getting into before anything more than friendship develops.”
Kritika nodded, though she couldn’t resist a playful smile. “Ma, you’re making it sound so serious! He’s just a friend who’s a bit clueless about book launches, that’s all.”
“ Clueless? Hmm “Her mother’s cautious expression unsettled Kritika slightly as her mother continued “All I’m saying is to keep your feet on the ground, Kritika,” Mrs. Nanda added gently. “We don’t want you swept away by someone without knowing their intentions.”
With a reassuring smile, Kritika replied, “Alright, Ma, I’ll be careful. Let’s see how his book launch goes first.”
“ That is his problem, you may please concentrate on your studies Kritika.” Mrs Nanda’s tone was dismissive, she had toiled hard, balancing housework and a catering business to give a decent life and a good education to her only child.
————-
As Kritika’s exams drew closer, she resolved to pour all her energy into her studies, determined to do her best. Every morning, she told herself she’d limit her distractions, dedicating hours to her textbooks and notebooks. But no matter how hard she tried; she couldn’t deny the pull of Rajesh’s presence lingering in her mind. Their moments together, the laughter they shared, and the gentle way he listened—all these memories seemed to seep into her thoughts, making concentration a challenge.
One morning, Kritika set out to the library, resolute about sticking to her study plan. Yet, as fate would have it, she spotted Rajesh through the window of the bookstore nearby, browsing through a stack of books with a thoughtful expression. She hesitated, her heart caught between the responsible voice of her mother echoing in her head and her own, urging her to go in.
“Just for a moment,” she convinced herself, stepping inside.
When Rajesh looked up, his face lit up with that familiar, warm smile. “Ah, Miss Bookworm, shouldn’t you be buried in textbooks?”
Kritika laughed, a slight blush betraying her resolve. “You caught me. I swear I came here just for a quick break.”
She meant to keep it short, but one conversation led to another. Before she knew it, hours had passed, and her planned study session lay forgotten. She told herself it was just a one-time slip, but as the days passed, her determination wavered again and again. She found herself gravitating toward places she knew she might bump into Rajesh, caught in the tug-of-war between her studies and the irresistible lightness of being around him.
Back at home, she would sit at her desk, open her books, and try to focus, but her thoughts drifted—often to their strolls in the park, the way Rajesh looked at her, and the words he shared, making her laugh and think in ways that felt new and exhilarating. Kritika chided herself, trying to focus and get back on track, yet each time, a memory or the hope of their next encounter would derail her focus.
Mrs. Nanda noticed her daughter’s distracted gaze and sighed, placing a reassuring hand on Kritika’s shoulder one evening. “I know your heart is dancing somewhere else these days, but remember, you have come so far on your own. Do not let your focus waver”
Kritika nodded, grateful but also battling with her own emotions. Despite her resolve, each time she saw Rajesh, every smile, every glance, made the struggle harder. She tried, sincerely, to stay away, but her heart had other plans, leading her, time and again, to the warmth and laughter that only he could bring.
Mrs. Nanda’s patience was wearing thin. She had noticed the late nights, the neglected textbooks, and the way Kritika’s usual diligence seemed to be slipping. One evening, as Kritika came in with a telltale smile that only deepened Mrs. Nanda’s suspicions, she couldn’t hold back any longer.
“Kritika, this is enough,” Mrs. Nanda’s voice was sharp, cutting through the comfortable silence of their small living room. “I can see how much you’re distracted. These exams are not something to take lightly. Do you think all the hours I’ve spent working, managing the house and the catering, were so you could drift off into daydreams with this boy?”
Kritika’s face fell, guilt mingling with the defensiveness that came from her heart’s undeniable tug towards Rajesh. “Ma, it’s not like that. I’ve been studying; it’s just… sometimes it’s nice to take a break.”
Mrs. Nanda crossed her arms, her gaze steely. “A break? When have I ever had the luxury of ‘a break,’ Kritika? I have worked hard to make sure you could focus on what matters—your education, your future. You’re so close to completing your studies. What’s a few months of effort compared to a lifetime of stability?”
Kritika swallowed, feeling the sting of her mother’s words. “Rajesh isn’t just some distraction, Ma. He… he understands me, supports me.”
“Understand you? Support you?” Mrs. Nanda’s tone softened, though the disappointment was still palpable. “Kritika, people say these things easily when it’s all laughter and casual meetings. But will he be there when life gets hard? When you need something beyond a comforting word?”
Her mother’s words struck a chord, and Kritika felt her resolve waver. She wanted to argue, to defend Rajesh, but Mrs. Nanda’s eyes were tired, her hands worn from years of work and sacrifice.
“I know you think this is love, Kritika,” Mrs. Nanda added, her voice softer now, but no less firm. “But love can wait. Your future, your career—those can’t.”
The gravity of her mother’s words settled over her. Kritika nodded, her heart heavy with the conflicting pulls of her dreams and her affections. For now, she knew she would have to step back, put her focus on her studies, and push thoughts of Rajesh to the back of her mind—at least until the exams were over.
Kritika held the result sheet in her hands, staring at the numbers. She had done well—better than many, but not quite what she’d hoped. There was a sting of disappointment, a gnawing sense that she could have done more, worked harder. She knew her mother had sacrificed so much to see her succeed, and she feared her results might not meet Mrs. Nanda’s high expectations.
As she walked home, lost in thought, Kritika almost didn’t notice Rajesh coming up the path. His face lit up the moment he saw her, and without a word, he seemed to read her expression.
“Hey,” he said gently, falling into step beside her. “Is everything alright?”
Kritika gave a small sigh, holding up her results. “I did okay, but not as well as I’d hoped. I thought maybe I’d score a little higher.”
Rajesh looked at her, his smile reassuring. “You gave it your best, Kritika, and that’s what matters. Don’t be so hard on yourself. Results aren’t everything, and from what I’ve seen, you’re brilliant at what you do.”
She looked at him, his words like a balm to her disappointment. “I just… I wanted to make Ma proud, you know? She’s worked so hard.”
Rajesh nodded thoughtfully. “And you’ve made her proud, Kritika. You’re smart, driven, and you don’t let life knock you down. Besides, grades don’t define you. Your passion and how you handle things—that’s what makes you remarkable.”
A gentle warmth crept into her heart as she listened to him, a sense of relief washing over her. They walked quietly for a moment, taking in the evening light and the subtle comfort of each other’s presence.
“Thank you,” she whispered, feeling the weight of her worries ease just a little. “I needed that.”
He smiled, giving her a gentle nudge. “Anytime, Miss Bookworm. Now go home, and let Mrs. Nanda see how amazing her daughter is.”
With that encouragement, Kritika found herself walking the rest of the way with a little more confidence. But as she reached home, her steps slowed, the familiar nerves creeping back.
She quietly entered the house, not the usual bursting-in
“ Yes Kriti , what do you want to share now ?” Mrs Nanda’s tone was guarded.
Mrs. Nanda looked up expectantly, her eyes scanning Kritika’s face before glancing down at the result sheet. Kritika handed it over, bracing herself for whatever her mother might say.
Mrs. Nanda studied the numbers, her expression thoughtful. Then, with a small nod, she looked up. “You did well, Kritika. Maybe not as high as I thought you could reach, but you did well.”
Kritika felt a flicker of relief but couldn’t help the shadow of guilt that lingered. “I’m sorry, Ma. I really tried.”
Mrs. Nanda’s stern looks softened just a little, and she placed a hand on Kritika’s shoulder. “I know you did. Just remember, life is full of tests, not all of them in books. As long as you learn, as long as you keep pushing forward, you’ll be just fine.”
In that moment, Kritika felt a surge of gratitude—not just for her mother’s words, but for the quiet support of both Rajesh and Mrs. Nanda. She might not have scored as high as she wanted, but she knew she was surrounded by people who believed in her, and that was worth more than any number on a page.
……………………………………………………………..
Over the next few months, Kritika threw herself into her studies with renewed focus, determined to make her final semester count. Her time with Rajesh became more balanced, a steady rhythm that allowed her to concentrate while still cherishing the warmth and laughter he brought into her life. They saw each other only occasionally—short visits at the bookstore, quiet strolls in the park, and, once in a while, a weekend coffee date that felt like a refreshing escape from her academic routine.
In between study sessions, Kritika often found herself lost in the memory of these moments, the way Rajesh would listen with genuine interest as she discussed her dreams and worries, or how he would make her laugh, even on her most stressful days. His calm support became her anchor, and she found that her confidence was growing—not just in her studies, but in life.
One evening, as they met at a cozy, tucked-away cafe, Rajesh beamed with news that made Kritika’s heart skip with joy: his book had officially become a success.
“It’s surreal,” he said, his eyes shining. “I was just hoping people would like it, maybe a few positive reviews. But it’s gone beyond anything I expected.”
Kritika’s face lit up with pride. “Rajesh, that’s incredible! I knew it was going to be a hit—you poured so much of yourself into it. People can feel that.”
He reached across the table and squeezed her hand, his smile tender. “It’s thanks to you, you know. You helped me open up; to really bring out the parts of myself I was too afraid to share. I couldn’t have done it without you.”
One crisp autumn evening, as the golden leaves fell softly around them, Rajesh took Kritika’s hand as they walked along a secluded path in the park. The air was cool, but the warmth between them was undeniable. Rajesh stopped under a large oak tree, turning to face Kritika with a serious yet tender expression.
As Rajesh held Kritika’s hand, a flicker of sadness crossed his eyes. “You know, there was a time when I thought life had little left to offer,” he said, his voice tinged with a quiet melancholy. “Growing up alone… without family to share the little joys, I’d built walls around myself. I convinced myself that loneliness was simply part of my life. I would walk these same paths in silence, watching the world pass by, convinced that this… emptiness was my destiny.”
Kritika’s hand tightened around his, a comforting warmth that broke through the shadows of his past. “But then you came along,” he continued, a soft smile breaking through. “You’ve made even the quietest days feel alive, filled spaces in my heart that I didn’t know were there.”
They spent the rest of the evening talking about his plans, ideas for future books, and dreams that suddenly felt within reach. And as they parted that night, Rajesh kissed her softly on the cheek, his quiet way of showing just how much he cared.
Encouraged by his recent success, Rajesh decided it was time to meet Mrs. Nanda officially. Though he knew she was reserved about their relationship, he wanted to show her that his intentions were sincere.
“ I think it is time to meet Mrs Nanda, what do you think ?”, though his tone was serious, his eyes were pools of mischief and love rolled into one.
……………………………………….
When Kritika returned home that evening, her excitement was palpable. She rushed into the kitchen where her mother was preparing dinner, the smell of spices filling the air.
“Ma! You won’t believe what happened today!” Kritika exclaimed, her cheeks flushed with joy as she twirled around the room.
Mrs. Nanda looked up from the stove, a smile playing on her lips at the sight of her daughter’s happiness. “What’s got you so excited, Kriti? Did you find another way to trick poor Rajesh into believing some wild story?”
Kritika giggled, but quickly shook her head. “No, Ma. This is different. His book has received wide acclaim, with a beaming and lit up face she continued. “ Ma, I know you have doubts regarding Rajesh but he’s just so… interesting! We went for coffee today, and we talked about everything—books, life, even silly things like what his favourite ice cream flavour is. He’s so serious on the surface, but when you get him to laugh, it’s like he completely changes. And you know what? I think he’s really starting to enjoy my craziness!”
Mrs. Nanda listened, her hands still working the dough, but her full attention was on her daughter. She could see the spark in Kritika’s eyes, the way she spoke about Rajesh with such enthusiasm.
“Sounds like he’s good,” Mrs. Nanda said gently, “But just remember, it’s important to be yourself, even when you’re having fun. Don’t lose that in trying to impress him.”.
“ Oh, Ma don’t worry, by the way, he is keen to meet you ma. He wants to share his success and gratitude with us”
………………………
Kritika in a bid to make her mother warm towards her, arranged for the dinner at their modest home, nerves dancing in her stomach as she helped her mother prepare the meal.
Mrs Nanda’s heart sank a bit as she realized that it was more than just a passing fancy; there was something real and tender growing between them, even if Kritika herself was not admitting to it. She was not ready for this transition because she had grand dreams for her daughter. However, she loved her daughter dearly and did not want to hurt her either.
Rajesh arrived on time, looking sharp but humble, bringing a bouquet of fresh flowers as a gesture of respect. Mrs. Nanda eyed him critically at first, her gaze sharp and assessing, but Rajesh’s polite demeanour and calm charm slowly began to thaw her reservations.
Throughout the evening, he spoke humbly of his journey as a writer, the challenges he’d faced, and his gratitude for Kritika’s encouragement. Mrs. Nanda listened intently, occasionally asking questions, which Rajesh answered with respect and sincerity. As they cleared the dishes, he even offered to help, which made Mrs. Nanda crack a rare, small smile.
After dinner, as Kritika walked him to the door, Rajesh couldn’t help but feel relieved. “Your mom’s tough,” he whispered with a grin. “But I think she’s starting to warm up to me.”
Kritika chuckled, squeezing his hand. “She has a good heart, Rajesh.”
“ I am sure”. He reached up, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, his eyes lingering on her face. “Kritika, because of you, I finally feel that I belong somewhere. With you, I’m not that lonely boy anymore, these past few months have been the happiest of my life. I never imagined I could feel this way, but you’ve shown me what it means to truly live and love.”, he said ,his voice filled with emotion, “
Kritika’s heart raced as she looked up at him, her eyes reflecting the soft light of the setting sun.
Over the following weeks, Mrs. Nanda gradually came to accept Rajesh’s presence in Kritika’s life. He would occasionally stop by, sometimes helping with small errands or staying for a cup of tea, and Mrs. Nanda began to see firsthand how grounded and caring he was. She even started asking about his writing and offering him homemade sweets to take home. Bit by bit, her initial reservations faded, replaced by a quiet acceptance and, eventually, a genuine liking for the man who had become such a positive influence in her daughter’s life.
……………………………….
Two years had passed since that first, tentative spark between Kritika and Rajesh, a period that brought new. In that time, life had blossomed for them both, shaped by hard work, love, and an unspoken understanding that deepened with each shared moment.
Kritika had completed her studies with a sense of pride and relief, her hard work rewarded with a coveted position at a publishing firm in the city. It was a job that aligned perfectly with her love for books, and she felt a thrill each day as she worked alongside editors, writers, and creative minds who shared her passion. Mrs. Nanda, though still a vigilant observer of her daughter’s choices, had softened over the years and watched with pride as Kritika grew into the independent, vibrant young woman she had always dreamed she would be.
Rajesh, meanwhile, had become something of a local celebrity. His first book’s success had only been the beginning; he had since published another, and his popularity was steadily on the rise. Readers admired his honest, heartfelt storytelling, and he often credited Kritika for inspiring him to open up in ways he hadn’t before. Despite the attention his writing now brought, he remained the same grounded, thoughtful man who’d captured Kritika’s heart. He was still her Rajesh—the one who listened patiently to her dreams, laughed at her jokes, and loved her for all her quirks.
They had settled into a comfortable rhythm, building their careers side by side and savouring the rare moments when their busy schedules aligned. Quiet dinners, spontaneous weekend outings, and long walks in the park were still their favourite ways to unwind, keeping them grounded and connected in the midst of their individual successes. Despite the busy days and growing responsibilities, they cherished their time together and the lovely bond they had built.
One evening, as they walked along the familiar path of the park where they’d shared so many moments, Rajesh took her hand in his. They stopped by a quiet bench, the glow of the street lamps casting a warm light around them.
“Kritika,” he began, his tone both nervous and serious, “it’s been two years… two wonderful years. And I can’t imagine my life without you in it.”
Kritika’s heart skipped, her smile growing as she sensed what was coming.
Rajesh continued, reaching into his pocket. “You’ve been there for me through everything, from my early struggles to my success. You make every part of my life brighter, and I want to be there for you, too—now and always.”
With a soft smile, he pulled out a small, velvet box, opening it to reveal a delicate, glistening ring.
“Kritika, will you marry me?”
Tears welled in her eyes as she looked at him, her heart swelling with joy. “Yes, Rajesh,” she whispered, her voice barely containing her excitement. “Yes, a hundred times, yes!”
He slid the ring onto her finger, and they both laughed as the world seemed to fade around them, leaving only the two of them in that perfect moment.
Kritika returned home with a radiant smile, she couldn’t wait any longer to share the news with her mother. Entering the kitchen where Mrs. Nanda was preparing dinner, she took a deep breath. “Ma,” she began, her voice filled with emotion, “it’s serious.” She paused, trying to find the right words. “Rajesh… he proposed to me today. He asked me to marry him!”
Mrs. Nanda’s smile faltered as she set down the ladle, looking at her daughter intently. “Marry you? Kritika, this is so sudden. You’re still so young, and Rajesh… he’s an orphan. Are you sure about this?”
Kritika’s face fell slightly at her mother’s hesitation. “Ma, I know, but I’ve never been so sure about anything in my life. Rajesh is kind, caring, and he makes me incredibly happy. Isn’t that what matters most?”
Mrs. Nanda sighed, turning fully to face her daughter. “It’s not that simple, Kritika. Marriage is a big responsibility, and without a family to support him, how will Rajesh take care of you? I worry about your future; about the challenges you might face.”
Kritika, still holding her mother’s hands, smiled softly. “Ma, I understand your concerns, but even you’ve seen what a reliable person Rajesh is. He’s come over so many times to help you when I wasn’t around. Whether it was fixing the light or picking up groceries for you, he’s always been there for us.”
Mrs. Nanda’s expression softened as she thought about Rajesh’s thoughtful gestures over the past year. He had indeed proven himself to be a steady presence, visiting often to help with little tasks, always respectful and attentive. Yet she hesitated, still caught in the worry of a mother’s heart.
“But even so, Kritika…” she began, though her tone was gentler now, “I’ve always dreamed of you being with someone who can provide for you, someone with a family of his own.”
“Ma,” Kritika replied, her voice filled with certainty, “Rajesh and I may not start with much, but we’ll build our own family, just like you did with me. You’ve shown me that love and understanding are , what truly matter in a marriage. I know Rajesh and I have that.”
“Kritika,” Mrs. Nanda began gently, “I see that Rajesh makes you happy, and I won’t deny that he is a good man. He’s come by this house more than I can count, always ready to help, to offer a listening ear, or to lend a hand when I needed it. I see his sincerity, not only toward you but toward all of us. Still, marriage is no small step, and love alone cannot always overcome the challenges life might bring.”
Kritika nodded, her grip tightening on her mother’s hands. “I know, Ma, and that’s why, I’m sure. Rajesh and I aren’t afraid of the journey ahead, even if it’s difficult. We both have dreams, and we’ve talked about building our life together. He’s never once let me down, in the past two years and I have every reason to believe he never will. In fact, he has helped me pursue my own dreams, and always encourages me to try something new -like writing, painting, etc”
“ Enough for today Kritika, we will discuss tomorrow”. Mrs Nanda was firm.
This went on for days on end- the constant appeal and pleading on Kritika’s part and the staunch negation on Mrs. Nanda‘s part.
After a week Kritika gave up and even refused to meet Rajesh. In order to get over the melancholy and despair she went to ‘the bookstore one evening after work.
The once lively bookstore felt a bit dimmer as Kritika drifted in, shoulders slouched, her usual spark dulled. She moved quietly, as though weighed down by an invisible anchor. Mr. Chandra noticed her forlorn expression immediately. The usual gleam in her eyes was missing; gone was the playful glint that made her stand out in the crowd.
Kritika slumped onto a chair, attempting a smile, but the sadness was unmistakable. Mr. Chandra, a fatherly figure to her, had been watching this pattern play out for days, observing her escalating desperation and Mrs. Nanda’s unwavering stance. He couldn’t help but feel sympathy for both Kritika and her mother. Despite his age and experience, he knew that love and relationships often came with unspoken challenges.
“So,” Mr. Chandra began, lowering himself into a chair across from her. “You know, when I was your age, I faced my share of hurdles. And some were… well, matters of the heart, like yours.”
Kritika looked up, her curiosity piqued despite her sadness. Mr. Chandra rarely spoke about his personal life.
“A very determined young lady was adamant about marrying me. She didn’t relent until she convinced everyone, including her parents,” he said with a chuckle, eyes twinkling. “Maybe that’s why I see a bit of her in you.”
Kritika gave a half-hearted smile, but she was clearly on the brink of tears.
Mr. Chandra leaned closer. “Look, I don’t want to meddle, but it seems to me that your mother has her reasons. And while I respect her views, I think perhaps she hasn’t seen the kindness and promise that Rajesh holds. Sometimes parents need another perspective to see things clearly.”
Kritika nodded slowly, a flicker of hope in her eyes. She hadn’t thought of it that way.
“Would you mind if I talked to her?” Mr. Chandra asked gently, already knowing her answer.
Kritika’s face lit up, a mixture of gratitude and renewed optimism. “Oh, Mr. Chandra! If anyone can make her understand, it’s you. Please… please talk to her.”
With a soft smile and a reassuring pat on her shoulder, Mr. Chandra promised to visit Mrs. Nanda’s house that evening.
Later that evening, as Mrs. Nanda prepared a simple dinner, she was surprised by an unexpected knock at the door. Opening it, she found Mr. Chandra standing there, his calm demeanour and warm smile immediately putting her at ease.
“Mr. Chandra! What a surprise. Please, come in,” she invited, leading him to the living room.
Settling in with a cup of tea, Mr. Chandra glanced around before finally meeting Mrs. Nanda’s gaze. “I hope I’m not intruding, Mrs. Nanda, but I’ve noticed that Kritika hasn’t been herself lately.”
Mrs. Nanda looked away, clearly aware of her daughter’s recent behaviour. “It’s… complicated. You understand that a mother’s duty is to protect her child. I worry Rajesh’s lack of family might impact her future.”
Mr. Chandra nodded thoughtfully. “I understand. But I’ve seen Rajesh grow, Mrs. Nanda. He’s a sincere, responsible young man who has faced hardships and emerged stronger and while he may not have a family of his own, he’s shown he has a big heart and is a man of true character.”. Perhaps a family’s love can be found in the connections they build, rather than just the ones they’re born into.”
A silence followed, Mrs. Nanda deep in thought. Mr. Chandra gently continued, “Sometimes, we have to allow our children to make their own choices and support them with faith. I truly believe Rajesh has what it takes to make Kritika happy.”
Mrs. Nanda’s face softened slightly. She knew Mr. Chandra was not one to endorse someone lightly, and his words began to shift the reservations in her heart.
With a nod, she sighed, “Perhaps you’re right, Mr. Chandra. It’s not easy, but… maybe it’s time I trust Kritika’s judgment.”
Mr. Chandra smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Sometimes, Mrs. Nanda, trusting our children is the greatest gift we can give them.”
…………….
A few days later, as Kritika prepared for work, the morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow in the kitchen. Mrs. Nanda stood at the counter, stirring a pot of tea, her thoughts a swirl of emotions. She had spent many nights pondering Kritika’s relationship with Rajesh, reflecting on her daughter’s fervent pleas and Mr. Chandra’s quiet endorsement. Today, something within her felt different.
As Kritika tied her hair back and adjusted her bag, Mrs. Nanda finally mustered the courage to speak. “Kritika,” she began, her voice steady but soft. Kritika turned, sensing the gravity in her mother’s tone.
Mrs. Nanda approached her, her gaze lingering on Kritika’s determined face. “I’ve always wanted a life for you that was full—not just of love, but also of stability and support.” She took a deep breath, the familiar tug of worry pulling at her heart. “But maybe…” she hesitated, glancing at Mr. Chandra, who stood a little way off, watching them with a supportive smile. He gave her a gentle nod, encouraging her to continue.
“Maybe what you two have together is a strength that doesn’t need to lean on anyone else,” she said, her voice growing stronger. “You have my blessing, Kritika.”
At that moment, Kritika’s heart soared. “Ma! Really?” she exclaimed, her eyes widening with disbelief and joy.
“Just promise me you’ll take care of each other,” Mrs. Nanda continued, her fingers now gripping Kritika’s hands tightly. “That you’ll both keep each other’s hearts safe.”
With a joyful cry, Kritika wrapped her arms around her mother, her voice choked with emotion as she whispered her gratitude. “You have no idea how much this means to me, Ma. We’ll make you proud—I promise.”
Mrs. Nanda held her daughter tightly, allowing a moment of vulnerability to wash over her. Her own eyes glistened with unshed tears as she whispered, “That’s all I’ve ever wanted, my dear girl. To see you happy and to know you’re with someone who truly values you.”
As the embrace lingered, Mrs. Nanda felt a sense of relief. Perhaps it was time to take the next step. She pulled back, looking into Kritika’s eyes. “Let’s invite Rajesh over for dinner tonight. I’d like to speak with him, to get to know him better.”
Kritika’s face lit up with excitement. “Really, Ma? You want to invite him?”
“Yes, I do. I think it’s important we talk about things openly,” Mrs. Nanda replied, a newfound determination in her voice. “And I want to hear what he has to say about his intentions.”
Mr. Chandra, who had come over just then and had been quietly observing, felt a wave of pride for both women. He stepped forward, placing a hand on Mrs. Nanda’s shoulder. “That’s a wonderful idea. It’s essential to build a connection, to create a foundation of trust and understanding.”
Kritika squeezed her mother’s hands, her heart racing at the thought of Rajesh coming over. “Thank you, Ma! I’ll call him right now.”
As Kritika hurried to grab her phone, Mrs. Nanda took a moment to collect her thoughts. She had been so protective, so fearful of what could go wrong, but now, seeing the joy in Kritika’s eyes, she felt ready to embrace this change.
Kritika dialled Rajesh, her excitement bubbling over as she informed him of the dinner invitation. “Yes, please! It’s going to be great! You can meet my mother and… well, you know, we can talk about everything.”
When she hung up, the room felt lighter, filled with an air of hope and anticipation. Mrs. Nanda smiled warmly, her heart swelling with affection for her daughter, and for the young man who had clearly made such an impact on Kritika’s life.
“Now, let’s make sure we prepare something special for him,” Mrs. Nanda suggested, her maternal instincts kicking in. “We want to impress him.”
As they worked together in the kitchen, the warmth of their shared moments wrapped around them like a comforting blanket, Mrs. Nanda felt a quiet assurance settle in her heart. Perhaps this was the beginning of a beautiful journey for Kritika and Rajesh, and she was ready to be a part of it.
……
Next day Kritika and Rajesh as they did often- found themselves drawn to a quiet, tree-lined lane just outside the bustling heart of the city. This lane, with its towering trees and serene atmosphere, had become their sanctuary, a place where they could escape the world and simply be with each other.
Autumn had begun to settle in, the lane had transformed into a kaleidoscope of colours. The once-green leaves turned to vibrant shades of gold, amber, and crimson, and the cool breeze carried the earthy scent of fallen leaves. The sunlight filtered through the branches, casting a warm, golden hue on everything it touched.
Hand in hand, they strolled down the lane, their fingers intertwined as if they were two parts of a whole. Each step they took was accompanied by the gentle rustling of leaves underfoot, the sound creating a symphony of nature that played in the background of their quiet conversations and laughter.
Kritika, always full of energy, would occasionally let go of Rajesh’s hand to spin around, trying to catch a falling leaf in her outstretched hands. She would laugh with delight when she succeeded, her eyes sparkling with the same joy that Rajesh had come to adore. He watched her with a smile, his heart swelling with affection.
“Look, Rajesh!” she exclaimed one day, holding up a perfectly shaped golden leaf she had caught. “Isn’t it beautiful?”
“It is,” he replied, his voice soft. But his gaze wasn’t on the leaf; it was on her. “But not as beautiful as you.”
Kritika blushed, her playful demeanour softening as she stepped back toward him. “You always know the right thing to say, don’t you?” she teased, though her heart fluttered at his words.
He smiled and took her hand again, pulling her close as they resumed their walk. The air around them was filled with the gentle flutter of leaves falling from the trees, each one a small reminder of the season’s change. As the leaves drifted down, they swirled around the couple, creating a romantic dance that seemed to mirror the one unfolding in their hearts.
As they walked, the cool breeze would sometimes tousle Kritika’s long, dark hair, sending a few strands across her face. Rajesh would gently brush them away, his fingers lingering on her cheek, his touch tender and full of unspoken love. Each time he did, their eyes would meet, and in that moment, the world around them would fade, leaving just the two of them in a bubble of warmth and affection.
One evening, as the sun began to set and the sky turned a soft pink, they found a bench under one of the large trees. They sat down, still holding hands, and watched as the leaves continued to fall, creating a blanket of colour on the ground.
Rajesh turned to Kritika; his expression was serious but his eyes filled with warmth. “Kritika,” he began, his voice gentle, “I know we’ve only been together for a just two years, but I feel like I’ve known you forever. These walks, this time we spend together… it’s the happiest I’ve ever been.”
Kritika looked at him, her heart swelling with emotion. “Me too, Rajesh. I feel the same way. You make me feel so special, so loved. I never thought I could be this happy.”
In that moment, as the last rays of sunlight bathed them in a warm glow, Rajesh leaned in and kissed her hand, sealing a silent promise that whatever lay ahead, they would face it together. And as they sat there, wrapped in the embrace of falling leaves and fading light, they knew they had found something rare and precious—a love that would weather every season.
