A while later…
Anay and Shrey were stepping out of the haveli. At the doorway stood Thakurain, holding a small bowl — filled with curd and sugar.
She fed each of them a spoonful of the curd-sugar mixture.
"Take care of yourself, Amma…" Anay said as he kissed her forehead. "We'll both be back soon…"
"Travel safely…" — Thakurain embraced them both one last time before the grand doors of the haveli slowly began to shut.
Anay lay down quietly on the backseat of the car. Shrey didn't say a word — although Anay's outer wounds had healed, the inner scars still had not found freedom.
Without speaking, Shrey got into the driver's seat and started the car.
"Is it hurting too much…?" he asked, glancing into the rearview mirror.
"No…"
Anay simply muttered, and dozed off again. Shrey looked at him and turned his focus back to the road.
After eight hours of continuous driving, they finally reached Varanasi. The city's mild humidity and the familiar scent of the ancient ghats welcomed them from afar. The day was fading, and the sky glowed in hues of crimson-orange.
They had taken turns driving to avoid exhaustion. As the car stopped near a wide field in the Cantonment area, Anay got out, raised his arms for a stretch, and said:
"No welcome reception for us?"
"Big words from the honorable MLA…"
A voice responded sarcastically.
They turned toward a man standing in the shade of a tree — sharp features, draped in a gamcha. He wore a light yellow kurta-pajama with a deep red Banarasi gamcha flung over his shoulder, fair-skinned with a curled mustache and an easy, confident air.
The man walked up to them with a smile and said—
"I'm Manjeet Tiwari, the local MLA here in Banaras."
"Welcome to our city…" — he said, spreading his arms in respect.
Anay raised an eyebrow with a faint smile.
Tiwari understood the sarcasm in Anay's tone, but like a seasoned politician, he smiled and replied—
"Forgive me, sir… Ganga Maiyya has been unusually fierce today. Some of the residential areas near the river have been damaged, and I've been tied up with relief efforts. As an MLA, public service is my duty…"
Anay didn't respond, simply nodded lightly.
Tiwari smiled again and said—
"You both should stay at my residence for a few days… everything is arranged."
This time, Anay agreed without any questions, and the three of them walked off together.
As they reached the gates of Tiwari's house—
"Wife, are you listening—"
Just as he called out, a shopping bag came flying and smacked him square in the face.
Thwack!
Anay and Shrey were stunned. The bag had hit Tiwari straight on the nose.
Flustered, Tiwari grabbed the bag and said—
"Oh… I forgot to get the vegetables, so…"
Then quickly recomposing himself, he said—
"Please, this way to the guest quarters…"
He led them to the right wing where the guest area was.
The guest room was decorated in old Banarasi style — wooden lattice windows, yellow lime-washed walls, and thick mattresses laid on the floor.
Anay removed his shoes, stretched his legs on the mattress, and leaned against the wall.
As Tiwari was leaving, he said—
"Please rest… I'll have refreshments arranged."
Just then, Shrey's voice called out from behind
"No, first go fetch the vegetables… next time it could be a slipper from your wife."
Tiwari paused, then let out a sheepish smile and said—
"Ha ha… fair enough…"
And slowly slipped off toward the kitchen with the bag in hand.
Morning in Kashi was a surreal experience — golden rays of the sun danced on the rippling Ganga, and hundreds of people immersed themselves in prayer on the ghats. The sound of bells, conch shells, chants of "Har Har Gange" and "Har Har Mahadev" filled the air with spiritual devotion.
Anay and Shrey were watching this scene through the window of their room.
"There's a strange peace here…"
Shrey took a deep breath, admiring the ghats.
Anay said nothing — he just stared silently outside.
Shrey waited for a response. When he got none, he turned to look where Anay's gaze was fixed — but before he could follow it, Anay abruptly shut the window.
"Anay!"
The shutters slammed right into Shrey's nose.
"Damn it, are you trying to kill me?! Ugh, my nose…"
Shrey groaned, but Anay didn't respond. Instead, he pulled a shawl from the cupboard, draped it over his shoulders, and walked out.
"Where are you going?"
Shrey asked.
"Just… out for a bit…"
Anay's voice was calm like still water — for the first time in two months, Shrey had heard him speak this way.
Shrey looked closely at him.
"Are you okay?"
"Don't turn into my mother now…"
Anay brushed him off lightly, without any sting in his tone.
He slowly descended the stairs and stepped outside. The cold morning breeze fluttered his red shawl, but he kept walking through the narrow lanes, finally reaching the ghats. There, he stood still.
By the Ganges, Anay stared at the waves — as if searching for answers within them. The wind tried to blow away his shawl repeatedly, but he gently wrapped it tighter, almost as if trying to gather his scattered emotions.
All around, devotion was in the air — temple bells, conch sounds, and hymns floated around. But for Anay, it all felt… silent.
Back at the guest house, Shrey was ready after his bath, sitting in the courtyard scrolling through his phone.
"suparbhat, assistant sir…"
Tiwari entered with tea and snacks.
"Good morning…"
Shrey smiled.
"Haven't seen the honorable MLA…"
"Yes, he went out…"
"Hope everything's comfortable here?"
"Absolutely, Tiwari ji. It's peaceful here…"
"I'm glad to hear that. You both should get ready, today we—"
Just then, Shrey's phone rang. It was a call from the haveli. He answered immediately—
"Hello…"
There was silence on the other side for a moment, then a trembling voice said—
"Hello… Shrey ji…"
Grinding his teeth, Shrey said—
"Call me Malik… Malik. Speak, girl…"
It was Moli on the other end.
Somewhere during her time at the haveli, her heart had fallen for Shrey — a feeling even she hadn't realized when it began. But after witnessing Anay's condition, Shrey had given up on love entirely. He had come to hate it.
When Moli once confessed her feelings, Shrey had harshly rejected her. But Moli hadn't given up — even now, she remained on that same path… Shrey's path.
Her voice was shaking—
"Malik… Bade Saheb fell from the bed today… he hit his head…"
Shrey snapped—
"Is he dead yet?"
Silence followed.
He sighed deeply and said—
"Call a doctor… get him treated… and keep him alive…
And don't call me again."
He hung up.
Then took a deep breath.
Tiwari, who had been quietly observing everything, softly asked—
"Is everything alright?"
Forcing a smile, Shrey replied—
"Everything will be fine… as long as we're still breathing."
He took a sip of tea.
Then once again, Shrey tried calling Anay.
The phone rang… but no one answered.
Defeated, he lowered his head.
Tiwari gently said—
"He's probably at the ghats… mornings in Banaras are magical… Thousands of love stories have taken birth here… these streets often guide lost lovers…"
Shrey raised his head sharply and retorted—
"Love is ruin. And we don't indulge in such cheap intoxicants to get ruined, Thakur…"
"Oh… such hate for love… what happened that's made you bitter?"
Tiwari asked, but at that moment, a year-old memory flashed before Shrey's eyes.
His fists clenched… his eyes reddened… his face tightened.
Tiwari read his expression.
"Shrey babu… I don't know what you've lost in love… but believe me…"
Shrey cut him off—
"Thank you for your hospitality… We'll meet at the MLA residence."
He folded his hands.
Tiwari understood — this young man didn't want to understand anything anymore.
He nodded and left quietly.
Shrey took another deep breath and tried calling Anay again.
Today, once again… he feared losing Anay.
Tiwari's words had scratched open old wounds inside him…
The ones that were just beginning to heal… were now bleeding again.
Too be Continuted...