A cluster of short stories
My Top Secret: I love happy endings because I know my life won't have one, reading an imaginary character's happily ever after somehow makes me happy, as if it's me who got a happy ending.
And my writings are based on my t...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Crush.
This crush thing wasn't new for Armaan. His first crush was his maths teacher in the first standard, who made Maths his favorite subject. His second crush was his elder cousin sister's best friend, for whom he learned to play guitar. His third crush was the girl sports captain of his school, who inspired him to play football. His fourth crush was the topper during his graduation, who aspired him to study hard. And now his fifth crush was Baano, who indirectly was the reason behind his successful short film.
And guess what?
Five is his lucky number.
•••
His mind was full of Baano in the morning. He stepped out on his balcony with a cup of coffee in his hand, to get some fresh air. But what he got was 440 volts of shock.
There was standing none other than Baano itself in the balcony opposite to his.
He pinched his hand, not once but twice. He blinked his eyes, not twice but thrice. His heart skipped beats, not thrice but indefinite times.
He wasn't hallucinating. Baano was standing there for real.
Uff! The childish smile on her face. Oh! The silly grin on his face.
Uff! Her hair moving with the morning breeze. Oh! He was rubbing his hair like a morning freak.
Uff! She was unaware of his presence. Oh! He was unaware of this new emotional essence.
That morning was indeed good. But all the goodness faded as she exited her balcony, leaving him quite disappointed.
But the very next moment an idea struck on his mind and he ran out of his house with a utensil in his hand and mania in his heart.
•••
Jasbir Singh was watching his favorite drama with great interest. The hero had done his third plastic surgery and now he is trying to convince the heroine that he is her husband. Uff! These typical dramas, youth hate watching them while oldies being oldies enjoy everything about them.
The ringing of the doorbell pulled the seventy-year-old grandpa out of the drama. Making a tsk sound out of irritation he got up and went to open the door.
Has Sun rising from the west? Or moon forgot to set in the morning?
In these five years, it was the first time that The Armaan Gill was standing in front of someone's doorsteps, that too with a utensil.
"Aaj khush toh bahut hogey tum? Jis Armaan Gill ne aaj tak kisi se ek boond paani tak nahi maanga, vahi Armaan Gill tumhare darwaaze par doodh maangne aaya hai."
The melodramatic grandpa was imagining him to say this. After all, Armaan was a director to shout out loud.
But to his utter disappointment, he simply said. "Jasbir uncle, can I have some milk please?"
