Happy Ending (Ongoing )

chapter 1

It is a lazy summer afternoon in Allahabad and Aman is heading back home from his ISC coaching classes.
Although it's just a 10 min walk , It often takes him over an hour to reach home.

On his way back he pensively stares at the old and new buildings and compares the two. He likes the old ones. Taking in the hustle and bustle, he reaches the busy market next.

He knows what grocery he has to buy; His mother hands him a list of goods to buy before he leaves for school every morning. Everything is as it is supposed to be, and he loves it.

He is in no hurry to reach home. The repetition of these monotonous tasks is like that of a beat in an enchanting song: much welcomed. So much he drags his mundane chores at the market that one may think he doesn't even want to reach home.

He does not.

His reluctance to reach home as early as possible after a long day at school and coaching class does not stem from a lack of love and affection from his family.

It is because of the opposite.

His father, Shankar Tripathi, an agricultural scientist, who despite being busy working on a new strain of cauliflower, which besides being an unappetising black in colour, is also supposed to be maggot resistant, finds enough time to mollycoddle his only son.

Aman's mother, Sunaina Tripathi, whose full time job is to pamper her son,is predictably much, much worse.

A loud honk from behind startles Aman. He turns to a sight that immediately makes his heart jump out of his mouth. His brow is suddenly lined with beads of sweat and his pulse starts racing.

"Tripathi Jee, glad I found you. Look! new bike!," Chuckles a boy of his own age, sitting on a brand new motorcycle, revving it up to show off its brand new engine. "

It is Sarthak Khurrana, the coolest boy in his school according to both Aman and the school magazine's year-end poll.

Sarthak Khurrana twists his body while being seated on his new bike and taps on the backseat, gesturing Aman to come sit. "Chaliye, let's take you to the Sangam, Tripathee Jee," he says.

Aman, ready to kill more time, jumps onto the backseat and off they go to the Sangam. The holy Sangam, which is a confluence of the rivers Ganga and Yamuna, and literally translates to union.

On the backseat Aman observes how weirdly Sarthak's ears jut out of his head, .Almost at right angles. But they do not look bad on his face.

Nothing can look bad on THAT face, thinks Aman and gets flustered at the thought.

He isn't sure how he feels about Sarthak. They seldom interact at school. Whenever they do, it is usually Sarthak who initiates and he always calls him "Tripathee Jee". As a result whole school has started calling Aman that.

Popular kids like Sarthak have that kind of power. Being referred to as "Tripathee Jee" makes him feel old and uncool.

Nobody, not even I, can ever call Sarthak "Khurran jee" thinks a smiling Aman.

They leave the city traffic behind. Aman stares at the way wind sweeps Sarthak's hair. The sky is a shade darker and the air is a touch cleaner and cooler.

They take a turn to start on a worn out road that runs alongside Akbar's fort, and then turn onto a sandy kaccha Road that finally leads them to the sandy bank of The Sangam.

They find a secluded spot where sonorous sound of bells being tolled at the nearby Hanuman temple, calls from mallahs beckoning tourists to go on boat rides, Screeches of hawkers selling Chaat, Pakoda, Samose, Churmura, Aloo dum drown in the gusts of cool breeze that're rushing to them from the water body.