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Sometimes it frustrates me that public expression and political performance have become the mandatory conditions for proving that you have empathy. You shouldn't have to broadcast every thought just to prove you care or to validate your humanity.
HOWEVER, silence isn't neutral anymore. In times like these, total silence is exactly what authorities rely on to control the narrative. What is worse is if you don't say something, people immediately fill in the blanks and assume your political alignment lmao. So, while I resent the fact that we’re practically forced into performative posting just to clear our names, the issues at stake are too important to ignore. That being said, here’s what I think 😭🙏🏻:
Supporting a movement doesn’t require absolute ideological alignment with every person involved. And for me, that is the very essence of practicing democracy.
I don’t agree with everything CJP stands for, nor do I blindly buy into the "saint" narrative surrounding figures like Sonam Wangchuk. It’s obvious that political actors have entered the space, and there is a real risk that the protest's original goals could be hijacked by external/other agendas. But none of that invalidates the core intent of this resistance.
At its core, I think this discontent is stemming out from systemic, structural failures of the government (not one; but many) and a fundamental suppression of the right to be heard. It is a demand for accountability.
While polarising or religious slogans have no place here, the selective outrage is kinda hypocritical. Why does a statement by an individual cause widespread fury, while systemic issues like the paper leaks fail to elicit the same collective anger?
Also, It is easy to look at this today and think, "this isn't my fight." But the moment a rigged system or a leaked exam impacts YOUR life, you and your family will be the ones looking for support on the streets. I don’t align with the political theater now latching onto this movement, but the core demands of the people who have been sitting out there for weeks remain entirely valid. You don't have to agree with someone's entire worldview to stand with them against a structural injustice.
ALSO, lately, I’ve been struggling with this sense of guilt that comes with finding joy or comfort in ordinary things. When I’m watching a show, eating something, or just reading, there’s a persistent voice reminding me that my comfort is a privilege. I’m not suffering, I’m not at risk, and I haven't had to sacrifice anything just to be heard (not at this scale at least), though tbh, no one should ever have to put their life on the line just to have a voice.
It’s a strange, conflicting state to live in when I’m fully aware of the graver battles others are fighting in the exact same city, under the exact same authorities. It feels strange to realise that while you are experiencing a moment of peace or celebration, someone else a few kms away is mourning. Ignorance isn't bliss, but hyper-awareness is deeply disheartening.
I’m reiterating this again because I’ve heard people say how any of this concerns us, but right now, it might feel like "their" fight, but the reality is that we answer to the same systems. If they aren’t listened to today, we won't be listened to tomorrow. I don't want to glamorise suffering, and I think to risk it all and the other side to STILL be silent and unbothered is appalling.
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The Bait: She will initially message you pretending to be genuinely interested in Indian culture, building rapport to make you feel comfortable.
The Turn: Once she has your attention, she shifts the conversation to highly inappropriate, creepy, and invasive questions about porn, masturbation, and gooning.
The Demands: She will proceed to demand nudes and face reveals.
The Guilt Trip: If you refuse or set boundaries, she plays the victim, acting innocent, "heartbroken," and manipulative to try and guilt you into complying.
You are not alone in experiencing this. @akshayekhannamyhusband has dealt with the exact same manipulative behavior from this account.
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This story is set in newly independent India. It started as a one-shot, but I gravely underestimated my interest in Devang's cuteness, and it became a 3-part mini-series, and now it's a 4-part miniseries. So this is the last part.
All the pictures of Udaybir as Devang Chaturvedi are from this post of @cherryyelixir.
Other pics from Pinterest.
Constructive criticism appreciated. This is not beta read, so if you guys find some typos/ errors, please feel free to correct me.
Warnings: Slow burn, crush at first sight, mutual pining, fluff, idiots in love, Devang being a literal cutie, flirting, secret romance.
“Kya bol rahi thi? Aj kal main thak jata hu aur dheere-dheere bhag raha hu. Dikhata hu tumhe, ruko.” (What were you saying? Nowadays I am tired and run quite slowly. Let me show you, wait), Devang tackled her, holding her against the banyan tree, tickling her.
“Sorry, sorry. Maaf kardo na. Nahi bolungi, ab nahi bolungi” (Sorry, sorry. Please forgive me. I will not say this now), she said, drawing deep breaths, laughing, her eyes almost tearing due his tickles.
“Bolo, Devang Chaturvedi is the best hockey player.”
“Devang Chaturvedi is the best hockey player”
“Bolo, I love you”
“I, I… love…”, she ran away, finally freeing herself from her grip. “Nahi bolungi” (I will not say), her giggles escaping like the most beautiful music in the world. Devang chased her and caught her too soon. They moved near each other, foreheads touching as they smiled at each other. Their hearts full of love and happiness.
Since they had been in this secret relationship, her teasing towards him had increased, and he liked it. He did take the revenge when they were alone. This place, under the banyan tree, beside the lake, was their safe place. They could be free, with each other, express themselves, and laugh openly. Here, she saw a version of Devang that was beyond what the world saw. He was sweet, loving, teasing, and so clingy. He would never leave her without hugging her, confessing his love again and again, and then asking her to say it. She loved making him suffer a little, but in the end, she always said those words. She loved him with all her heart; she had never been happier, calmer. It is not like she was not loved or cared for. She had a loving family, she had always been happy with her life, occasional issues were there, but being with Devang made her feel lighter, softer. It made her realise that it was exactly this that was missing. It was the love that made you breathe lighter, your heart calmer, and you happier. She had heard how women had to compromise for love, accept things. Devang had made her feel liberated; it was as if she was learning new things about herself. She was growing in love. She was positively glowing, and even Beena didi had noticed the glow. And for Devang, he felt lighter than before. The stress from the game, the useless fights, all went away with the time he spent with her. He believed he was blessed. There was this presence of companionship, trust, and affection.
She wrapped her arms around him and asked, “Tum kab nikal rahe ho?” (When are you leaving?)
“10 dino mein” (in ten days)
“Achaa.” (Okayy)
“Meri yaad ayegi?” (Will you miss me?)
“Nahi bilkul nahi agyegi. Main to idhar akele hi kulfi khaungi, koi mera wala chenega nahi” (Not at all. I will have all my kulfi alone and no one will take my one), yet she held on to him tighter in her arms, placing her face on his chest, which was a clear contrast to what she said.
“Acha, phir thik hain, main bhi England mein settle hojaunga. English lady, kaisi rahengi?” (Okay, fine then. I will also settle in London. How with an English lady?)
“Mujhe baat hi nahi karni aapse” (I will not even talk to you)
“Aree phir se gussa. Tum chidaho to thik, main karu to galat.” (Oh, you are angry again. If you tease me, it's fine; if I do, it's correct.)
“Nahi, ye aap dusri ladki ka baat karege to main chali jaungi abhi” (No, if you talk about other women, I will go away)
“Sorry. Aj ke baad kabhi nahi bolunga. Waise bhi tumse zaada pyaar main kisise kar sakta hu kya?” (Sorry. I promise that I will never say this again. Anyways, will I ever be able to love anyone as much as I love you?)
“Thikhain” (Okay), she smiled as she received a sweet forehead kiss from him.
There was a sound of soft footsteps. Devang looked behind the tree. Oh no, Raghubir was there.
Raghubir had been determined to find out where his friend was vanishing every evening. Thus, as he saw Devang missing, he planned to investigate. He had seen her come this side a few days back, so this was his search location.
“Raghubir…”
“Aap us prince ka naam bhi maat lo. Pata nahi kya samajhta hain khudko” (Do not take the name of that prince. I do not understand what he thinks about himself.)
“Kya?” She looked behind the tree,” Ab kya kare?” (What? What do we do now?)
“Pata nahi. Kya karu?” (I don't know. What do I do?)
“Aap baithe raho. Aree, kuch idea do.” (You stay seated. At least think of an idea.)
“Kya idea du? Mujhe kuch samajh nahi araha." (What idea do I give you? I cannot understand what to do.) She suddenly stood up and moved towards the banyan tree. "Aree ye kya kar rahi ho” (Aree, what are you doing?)
“Peer pe chad rahi hu. Dikh nahi raha>” (I am trying to climb the tree. Can't you see?) Devang's heart was beating quicker; she was climbing a banyan tree. What in the world was going on?
“Per peer kyu chad rahi ho? Tumhe peer pe chadna ata hain? Aree dekhke saree samhal ke.” (But why are you climbing the tree? You know how to climb a tree? Be careful you are in a saree)
“Dikh to raha hain apko, ab chup hojaiye” (You can see that, now be quiet)
Raghubir arrived to see Devang a little shaky. He had just witnessed her climb a tree in a saree. He was confused and impressed.
“Yaha par kya kar rahe ho, Devang?” (What are you doing here, Devang?)
“Hain? Main? Woh main hawa khane aya tha.” (Yes? Me? I had just come to have some fresh air)
“Akele? Koi hain tumhare sath?” (Alone? Is someone there with you?) Raghubir looked around. He was convinced there must be a woman, or worse, the sister-in-law of Tapan. She got to his nerves.
“Yaha shanti ke liye ata hu to akele hi hounga na. Tumlogo ko to bas ladhai karna hota hain” (I come here for some peace, so I will obviously be alone. You all just have to fight.)
“Achaa. To chalo wapas chalte hain” (Okay. Come let's go back). Raghubir came up to hold Devang's shoulder and take him along. There was that smell again, soft sandalwood and floral. It was surely a woman's perfume.
"Tum jao main ata hu. Let the sun set" (You go, I will come a little later. Let the sun set)
"Thik hain". Raghubir left, but he was more determined to find the real incident. Devang let out a sigh of relief. While she was having the aerial view of him leaving.
“Neech ajao” (Come down)
“Rukiye. Usse jane dijiye phele” (Wait. Let him go away first)
“Are gir jaogi. Chot lag jayegi” (Aree, you will fall down. You might get hurt)
“Are kuch nahi hoga. Bachpan se chada hain. Maa ki pitai se bachne ke liye ped pe chad jati thi” (Nothing will happen. I have climbed trees since childhood. I save myself from my mother's beating, I would climb up trees)
[This is based on real incidents. My mother would climb trees and walls to save herself from getting beaten up by my grandfather. According to my maternal family, she was the naughtiest child who would continuously climb trees and steal whatever fruit she found. The same goes for my father. Both of them have fallen from multiple trees, though in different geographical locations. Match made in heaven indeed.]
“Dheere. Ye hath pakdo.” (Slowly, here hold my hand) Devang held out his palm. As she set her foot on the ground, he checked her carefully “Chot nahi ai na. Thik ho?” (You have not got hurt, right? You are okay?)
“Bilkul thik hu. Us prince ko na ekdin main pani mein dhakka de dungi” (I am completely fine. One day I will push that prince in water)
“Aree gussa nahi karte na. Idhar ao” (Aww, don't be angry. Come here), he pulled her closer, moved the silky locks of hair from her face and rubbed his knuckles on her soft cheeks.
“Phir bolo London se kya leke aau?” (So, what do I bring from London for you?)
“Bas aap ajana” (Just come back), she hugged him tight.
The day had come, the team was announced, and to her utter happiness, Devang was made the captain. He absolutely deserved it. He was the perfect captain the team could have. They would be leaving the next day. Since last week, they had not been really able to spend time together properly. The days had been too hectic, and he was leaving the next day. She was so happy, yet there was a pain in her chest. The pain of lover’s separation, Viraha.
The party had ended in chaos. She was tired. The worst was that she did not get time to talk to Devang alone, and he would be leaving the next day. It was almost 8 pm when she got the chit. ‘Meet me at our usual spot at 9. -DC’ She wrapped a shawl around her embroidered saree from the party and took a lantern.
She moved as quietly as possible. There was no one to be seen. She was slightly wary of her surroundings. Suddenly, someone held her from behind.
“Ahhhh”
“Daar gai” (Did you get scared), it was Devang's voice.
“Ye ekdam acha nahi kiya apne. Main gir jati to? Aur agar galti main maine apko lantern maar diya hota?” (This is not done. If I had fallen? Or worse, if I had hit you with the lantern?)
“Main tumher girne thori deta? Aur tumhare hath se se maut bhi hassen lageti” (Would I have let you fall? And even death by your hands would have been sweet)
“Ye marne ke baatein kar rahe hain aap. Mujhe isiliye aap bilkul pasand nahi. Ek to itni door ja rahe ho, itne dino ke liye, aur jaane se phele aisi baatein” (You are talking about dying now. This is why I do not like you. You are going away so far, what too for so many days and before you go you are saying this like this), she tried to push Devang away, but his grip was too strong on her.
“Aree idhar ao. I love you na” (Aree, come here. I love you naa), as Devang tried to nuzzle his nose on her soft cheeks as she continued to fidget in his arms, trying to create a distance.
“Jaiye, haiteye. Do not touch me” (Go away, move. Do not touch me). She was not really angry at him; it was just all pretend, but she still kept her face away from him, not wanting him to see her teary eyes.
“Come hear na” (Come here). Devang tried to hold her chin and face her towards him, a tear had left her eyes.
“No, go away”
“Devang, ye kya ho raha hain? Meri saali ke sath ye kya kar raha hai?” (Devang, what is going on? What are you doing with my sister-in-law?) They suddenly went still. It was the voice of Tapan da, but it lacked the usual warmth. It sends chills down the spine of lovers. Before they could comprehend anything, a fist connected against Devang's cheek.
“Teri itni himmat” (How dare you?)
She was scared. She jumped forward to stop Tapan da from doing anything they might regret later. It was all her fault; she could have told them before. She realised Tapan da and Beena didi had seen a part of their lover's quarrel and assumed the worst.
“Jamaibabu chere dau, o kichu kore ni” (Jamai babu, please leave him, he had done nothing), as she protectively stood in front of Devang, who now had a busted lip.
“Tapan charo oke” (Tapan leave him), Beena didi moved forward holding him back.
"Aj to tujhe dekh lunga." (I will see the end of you today)
“Tapan ji, I have done nothing wrong. I love her, I want to marry her.” And there, everyone became still.
“Marry? Aap mujhese shaadi karenge” (Marry? You will marry me?)
“To pyaar kiya hain to shaadi to kaunga na? Tumhe kya laga? Aj wahi bolne ke liye bulaya tha” (So I have loved you, I would obviously marry you. What do you think? This is why I called you here, so say this to you)
“Ye dono ek dusre se pyaar kate hain?” (They both love each other), Tapan asked Beena, confused. "Kya isiliye tum mujhe yaha ane nahi de rahi thi?" (is this why you were not letting me come on this side?)
This was completely new information for her, too. Beena didi knew this. How was this even possible? “Tumi jante didi?” (You knew didi?)
“Meri behen hain who. Chahke bhi woh mujhse chupa nahi pati. Aur Devang acha ladka hain” (She is my sister. Even if she tries, she cannot hide things from me. And Devang is a nice boy).
“Sorry, didi. Mujhe apko bolna chiye tha” (Sorry, didi. I should have told you)
“Humlog apko bolne hi wale the per humne socha Olympics ke baad” (We were going to say, but then we thought we would tell everything after the Olympics.), Devang said in support of her, holding her hand.
“Direct shaadi karke bache ke sath hume bata te. Wahi acha hota” (You should have said us directly after marriage and with your child. That would have been better). Tapan was angry.
The commodtion had brough a few players including Raghubir to come out.
“Mujhe phele hi shak tha. Per is ladkike sath. Sahi hain, tum zaada hi seedhe aur shant ho Devang. Ye samhal legi” (I had doubted this. With this girl, but maybe this is best, Devang is too good and quiet. This one will probably save him)
Seedh? Shant? Oh, she knew how sheeda and shant he was.
The commotion had ended after a proper scolding from Tapan da and Beena didi. Then a whole lot of teasing from the team. During the whole time, Devang had kept holding her hand, reminding her that she was not alone and she would never be alone.
The Olympics had ended. The team had brought in GOLD. The 1st ever Olympic gold for independent India. The captain, Devang Chaturvedi, had also brought another gold, a gold ring for his beloved. 3 months later, under the same banyan tree, which was the witness of their love, they tied the knot and became each other's forever.
---And their beautiful journey continued ...
These are the pictures of Devang after the winning moments from Gold. They deserved to be posted. I cannot believe this was Udaybir's debut. Just look at his eyes.
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Prompt: Chosen numbers: 5. A line of dialogue to include: Bhabhi ko bulao!!! and 6. Writer’s choice: Left blank; so I will take your trope! (Body swap)
Disclaimer: This is fiction inspired by the characters portrayed by the actors in Dhurandhar, not the real individuals themselves.
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
When Rehman Baloch came to your father to strike a deal, your father - being the dramatic man he is - jovially added, “Ab iss deal ko rishte mein badal dete hain”. And the next thing you knew was you were sitting next to Uzair Baloch, shakily saying, “Qubool hai”.
It had been two months since your nikaah, and you were still essentially strangers.
Every morning, you woke up on your own side of the bed, before going down to get tea and breakfast ready for the house with Ulfat bhabhi. Two hours later, Uzair would come down, eat, nod at you and then disappear until late in the night, when you were already asleep.
You had gone from being two strangers to two strangers who had been forced into a union.
It was just another night, with you and Ulfat bhabhi cleaning up after dinner.
“Aaj saalan bahut achcha bana tha,” she complimented, as she collected all the cutlery onto a tray.
“Thank you, bhabhi,” you beamed, “Meri nani ki recipe hai”.
“Uzair ko aisa saalan bahut pasand hai,” she said absentmindedly, “Waise woh kab tak aayega?”
You shrugged, “Pata nahi. Rehman bhai keh rahe the ki docks mein aaj kuch kaam hai?”
Ulfat paused and looked up at you, “Ab bhi baatein nahi kar rahe ho?”
“Bas busy hain, bhabhi,” you collected the last of the plates, before changing the subject, “Waise kal bachchon ke tiffin mein kya daalna hai? Aap kahein toh chicken rolls bana dun?”
—
When Uzair returned, he saw you reading with the lamp on.
“Tum soyi nahi?” he asked.
“Nahi. Aap ne khana khaya?”
“Haan, raste mein kisi dhabe me ruk gaye the”.
A pang of disappointment hit you as you nodded, “Theek hai”. You placed the book to the side, switched off the lamp, and lay down, turning away from him.
—
When you woke up the next morning, something felt off. Your pillow didn’t smell of faint jasmine like it usually did - instead you could smell cedar and cigarettes. When you sat up, your body felt heavier. You squinted and rubbed your eyes, gasping when your hands felt rougher than you remembered. You pulled it away, only to notice they weren’t your hands.
Your hand looked longer, darker, with a faint scar running from your wrist to the middle of your palm - like the one you had seen on Uzair’s hand. You whipped your head to the side to see YOURSELF sleeping next to… you?
“Yeh koi khwaab hai. Yeh koi khwaab hai,” you tried to convince yourself, even as the voice that came out of you was lower and rougher.
Before the panic could overtake you, the body next to you stirred, “Abey kaun hai, lodu” in your voice. Your eyes widened, and the woman next to you sat up with a jolt.
“Kya? Kya?” she said, before looking at you and almost falling off the bed, “Yeh kya hai, bhen-”
“Bas!” you said, “Aur gaaliyan na dein!”
You gently got off the bed, stumbling as you tried to get used to the tall body you were somehow inhabiting.
“Tum kuch zyaada hi calm nahi ho?” you heard your voice.
“Yeh khwaab hai,” you insisted.
—
It wasn’t a dream, you realised quickly, when it felt like your bladder was about to burst.
“Uzair,” you said sheepishly, “Mujhe bathroom jaana hai”.
“K-kya?”
You hid your face in your hands, and he chided you, “Aisi harkatein mat karo”.
You squirmed, “Uzair, mujhe bathroom jaana hai! Kya karun?”
“Main- main madad-”
“Mere haathon se?” you were on the verge of sobbing, “Aap kya keh rahein hain?”
“Tum batao, main kya karun?”
You put your head in your hands again, ignoring his chiding, “Theek hai. Main jaati hun. Aap bhi,” you gulped, “Dekho, ek na ek din humein ek dusre ko dekhna hi tha. Ab- ab aise hi sahi”. You rubbed your face and made your way over to the washroom.
—
You firmly avoided thinking about what you had to do in his body and what he was doing in your body as you made your way down to the kitchen.
You stood up straight, “Bhabhi. Y/N. Haan, woh. Woh shayad bathroom mein hai toh, main chai bana dunga”.
“Tum kab se chai banana seekh gaye ho?” Ulfat asked as she brought the pot out and started measuring the milk, “Baith jao, Y/N aati hi hogi”.
You quickly ran back to your room, and came face to face with Uzair - or, well, you - trying to braid your hair.
You closed the door, before walking over, “Baith jao, main baal bana dungi”.
As your body sat in front of the mirror, you started to section your hair into three parts, “Sunein. Aap Ulfat bhabhi se kahiyega ki aapki, matlab meri, tabiyat kharaab hai. Kyunki aap khana toh bana nahi payenge”.
Uzair said, “Theek hai. Par aaj tum factory kaise-”
“Ya Allah,” you panicked, “Mujhe toh gaaliyaan deni bhi nahi aati”.
“Tum- tumhe kya lagta hai, main din bhar sirf gaaliyaan deta hun?”
“Mujhe kya pata aap kya karetin hain,” you grumbled, “Aap ne kabhi bataya bhi hai?”
“Tum ne kabhi poocha bhi nahi. Mujhe kaise pata chalega ki tum kya jaan’na chahti ho?”
“Main aap ko pehle batati thi ki mera din kaisa tha. Aap sirf haan-hm kar-”
“Uzair,” you heard Hamza’s voice cut through your speech.
The panic returned, “Main Hamza bhai se keh dungi ki meri tabiyat kharaab hai, toh aap ko ghar reh kar apni biwi ka khayal rakhna hoga”.
You could see your own face give you such a deadpan look, you backtracked, “Theek hai, hum keh denge ki hum dono ki tabiyat kharaab hai. Bas ek saath reh kar soch lete hain ki ab kya karein”.
You tied your hair, and reached around your body to pick up your attar. You pulled your body’s wrists towards you, rolling the oil on and adding some behind your ear. Noticing how he had suddenly gone quiet, you looked into the mirror taking in the sight properly for the first time.
To those that didn’t know of your current predicament, it looked like Uzair was getting his wife ready. His wife, who had gone pink in the cheeks.
—
You ambled downstairs, taking care to appear casual as you’d seen Uzair. “Hamze,” you said, lowering your voice, “Mujhe bukhaar hai”.
“Kya?” Hamza asked,”Mujhe toh ekdum theek lag raha hai”.
You bit your lip and then quickly let go of it, chastising yourself, before crossing your arms as you had seen your husband do a million times before.
“Woh, bas aap ko- tujh ko batane aaya hun. Aaj nahi aaunga, l-l-lodu,” you squeaked, before turning up and walking back up the stairs, choosing not to look back at what you knew would be confusion all over Hamza's face.
You shut the door to the room behind you, waiting for Uzair to return after informing Ulfat that both of you weren’t keeping well.
When he entered he looked puzzled, “Hamza pooch raha tha sab khairiyat se toh hai. Tum ne kya kaha?”
“Yahi ki aap ko bukhaar hua hai”.
He shrugged and sat next to you on the bed, careful to keep his distance, “Ab kya karein?”
You turned towards him, “Aap ko kya lagta hai, humare saath aisa kyun hua hai? Hum ne koi ladai nahi ki, na hum ne koi curse-wurse kiya hai. Matlab,” you squinted at him, “Maine toh nahi kiya hai. Kahin aap ne-”
“Pagal ho kya,” he countered.
You rested your head against the headboard, “Humein plan karna chahiye ki agar kal bhi aisi haalat mein hain toh kya karenge”. You turned towards him, “Main har subah chai banati hun, aur phir naashta aur bachchon ki tiffin”. You bit your nails, recounting your day, “Aur phir lunch aur dinner bhi. Aap itna khaana nahi bana payenge-”
“Ek second,” he interrupted, “Tum teeno waqt ka khaana banati ho?”
“Haan…”
“Toh Aqlaakh yahaan kya kar raha hai?”
“Woh meri madad kartein hain,” you defended him, “Subziyaan aur sab wahi toh kaat te hain”.
“Aur bhabhi?”
“Aap ko kya lagta hai, yeh haveli apne aap chalti hai? Staff ke kaam par nazar rakhna, guests ko welcome karna, aap sab ke hazaaron last-minute saawaton ki arrangements karna - yeh sab kaun karta hai?”
He sighed, “Mujhe nahi pata tha ki tum har roz itna saara kaam karti ho”.
You shrugged, playing with a stray thread on his sleeve, “Hum dono itni baatein kartein hi nahi hai, aap ko kaisa pata chalta”.
Before he could say anything, you added, “I’m not complaining. Bas humare haalat hi aisein hain”.
“Khaana banana, kamre ki safai, humare kapde… Aur kuch jo main miss kar raha hun?”
“Naieem aur Faizal ka homework kabhi kabhi main karati hun. Jab bhabhi busy hoti hain”.
He rubbed his face, and you could see the guilt etched on his face.
“Aap fikr na karein,” you said, “Aap bas bataayein ki aap ke din kaise hote hain. Main adjust kar lungi”.
“Gaaliyaan de paogi?” he teased, and you flushed, remembering the fiasco from earlier.
“Waise,” he cleared his throat, “Jab tak yeh masla theek nahi ho jaata, hum sab se kahenge ki meri tabiyat kharaab hai”.
“Kyun? Main aap ka kaam kar lungi, sach mein-”
“Humari abhi ek bahut badi deal chal rahi hai. Aur kaam bahut khatarnaak hai,” he raised an eyebrow, “Tumhein bandook chalaani aati hai?”
“B-b-bandook?”
The corner of his mouth lifted, “Mera yeh sab roz ka kaam hai. Tumhe pata toh hai na ki Baloch khandaan kya karta hai?”
You looked away, “Pata hai. Par kabhi socha nahi tha…” The guilt now clawed at you.
“Sorry,” you looked at him, “Maine kabhi theek se poocha bhi nahi ki aap kya kartein hain”.
“Main batata bhi nahi,” he nudged your shoulder, teasing you.
—
The next morning, Uzair woke up early as planned, and went downstairs to make chai.
Before heading to the kitchen, he stopped by the washroom downstairs, annoyed at the faint twinge in his stomach.
When he sat down, he realised why.
“Bhabhi ko bulao!” he screamed, and a servant knocked on the door.
“Bhabhi,” he asked, “Ulfat bhabhi ko bulaun?”
“K-kya?” Uzair fumbled, “N-Nahi. Main. Main aaya. Matlab, main aayi”. He quickly cleaned up, and ran back to your room, and woke you up.
“Y/N, utho!”
You sat up immediately, “Kya? Kya hua? Aap theek toh hain?”
You saw your own face, pale and trembling, “Nahi. Tumhara shayad. Shayad period shuru ho gaya hai”.
You paused and took a deep breath, “Okay. Okay. Mera date toh agle hafte ka tha”.
“Kya?”
“Matlab agle hafte aane wala tha. Okay,” you took another deep breath, “Aap ko periods ke baare mein kuch pata hai?”
“Mujhe class baad mein de dena, abhi batao kya karun!”
You sat up and walked over to your dresser, pulling out your comfortable period panties. You pulled him by the hand to the washroom, and showed him how to put a pad on the underwear.
“Main har baar nahi kar paungi, toh aap dekh lein,” you said, “Har teen ghante mein change kar lena, just to be safe”.
You gently brushed his hair - your hair - and smiled at him, “Ajeeb lag raha hoga na?”
“Yeh itna ajeeb nahi hai jitna apne aap ko pad lagate hue dekhna ajeeb hai”.
You laughed, “Aap fresh ho jayein, main dawai taiyyar rakhti hun”.
“Dawai?!”
—
It was an herbal concoction your mother would have at the ready every month for you. It was bitter, but worked wonders.
Of course, he didn’t listen to you and had one sip, before gagging, “Yeh kya hai”.
“Chup chap pee lein!” you scolded him, “Ek tara itni taqaluf ho rahi hai, aur janaab ko dawai bhi nahi leni hai”.
“Main mard hun, mujhe koi taqaluf nahi hogi”.
“Abhi aap aurat hain,” you reminded him, and thrust the glass in front of him, “Aap agar yeh jaldi pee lenge, main aap ko chocolate dungi”.
“Main koi bachcha nahi hun jisse chocolate chahiye”.
“Trust me,” you smiled wryly, “Aap ko uski zarurat padegi”.
—
You woke up next morning to the sound of your own voice complaining.
“Uzair?” you grumbled, marvelling at how easily you had accepted that he was now in your body, “Sab khairiyat?”
He sighed, “Tumhari woh dawai kaam nahi kar rahi hai”.
“Dard ho raha hai?”
“Maine aisa kuch nahi kaha”.
You rolled your eyes, “Just admit you’re in pain. Koi kam mard nahi ho jaoge”. You placed your hand on his stomach, pausing as you realised that essentially Uzair’s hand was on your stomach.
“Kya- kya kar rahi ho?”
You massaged your lower stomach, the way you always did on your period, “Yeh rahat dega. Bas paanch minute phir main hot water bag le aaungi”.
“Humesha itna dard hota hai kya?”
You continued your ministrations, “Jab waqt par nahi aata hai tab. Iss baar jaldi aa gaya toh shayad isiliye dard ho raha hai. Did the chocolate help yesterday?”
“Hm,” he replied, “Mujhe pata bhi nahi tha ki tumhare paas chocolate ki ek puri drawer hai”.
You laughed, “Stash ready rakhna padta hai. Aur toh aur, jab Naieem aur Faizal ka padhai ka mann nahi hota hai, toh kabhi kabhi bribe kar deti hun”.
He placed his hand on yours, “Shukriya”.
You shrugged, “Aap ne shayad zindagi mein nahi socha hoga ki ek din aap ko bhi yeh experience karne ko milega. I’m just trying to make it easy for you”.
—
By the fourth day, both of you were restless.
“Hum kab tak yahaan baithe rahenge,” you whined, “Bhabhi kitni pareshan hogi, sab kuch unhein manage karna pad raha hai”.
Uzair watched you walk around with a serene expression, “Iss waqt bhi tum dusron ke baare me soch rahi ho”.
You pointed a finger at him, “Aap bade aaraam se baithe hain?”
“Mera period chal raha hain,” he smirked, “Rest ke alawa kya karun?”
Both of you paused and took in the absurdity of his statement, of the situation and burst into laughter. You leaned against him, careful of your new body, “Mujhe mera shareer wapis chahiye!”
“Iss haalat mein?”
You pretended to think, “Theek hai, period ke baad”.
Both of you agreed to try and ease into the day.
Uzair burnt three rotis, before Ulfat banished him from the kitchen, insisting he only return once he felt better.
You tried to direct Hamza to bring in a shipment, but your “Please le aana” made Hamza fret over you, begging his Y/N bhabhi to keep Uzair locked in the room till he returned to his old self.
Banished to the room, you pouted at your husband, “Kya karein?”
“Pehle toh waisa muh banana bandh karo, mere chehre pe bilkul suit nahi karta hai,” he grumbled, before walking over to his desk.
He returned with a book, “Yeh mere accounts hai”.
“Aap mujhe kyun bata rahe ho?”
“Ab tak kuch nahi bataya. Us hi galti ko theek kar raha hun”.
He explained the numbers, his system, and how much of his earnings went to you, to the house, to charity, and to savings.
“Aur aap ke liye?”
“Kya matlab?”
“Aap apni kamayi mujhe, ghar ko, aur dusron ko dete hain. Toh aap ke liye kuch bacha hi nahi hai!”
“Mujhe kis cheez ki zarurat hogi?”
You frowned, “Yeh sahi nahi hai. Mujhe thode kam do, aur apne liye kuch rakhein”.
“Nahi”.
“Main pure paise use bhi nahi karti hun. Aadhe se zyaada bach jaate hain”. You played with the edge of his kurta, “Woh maine savings account me daalein hain. Aap kahein toh aap ki savings mein wapis kar dun?”
He gently pulled the kurta straight, “Achchi baat hai. Woh tumhare savings hai”.
“Ab woh humare savings ho sakte hain,” you said, covering his hand with yours.
—
The fifth morning, Uzair woke you up with a cup of chai, “Try karo, theek toh hai?”
You took a sip and looked at him, “Yeh aap ne banayi hai?”
He nodded, nervous all of a sudden.
“Bahut achchi bani hai. Sach mein aap ne banayi hai?”
He nodded again, a light smile on his face.
When you went down for breakfast, Ulfat pressed her hand against both your foreheads, “Tabiyat toh tum dono ki theek lag rahi hai, par pata nahi tum dono bade ajeeb lag rahe ho”.
Rehman, who sat at the dining table, cleared his throat, “Uzair miyaan, kaam par wapis aane ka iraada hai ya nahi?”
You looked at Uzair, suddenly remembering whose body you inhabited. You turned to Rehman, “Bhai, aap kahein toh aaj hi aa jaun?”
Rehman nodded, “Bas factory aa jaana do ghante ke liye. Nayi guns ki testing karni hai”.
You panicked and gestured to Uzair to follow you outside.
“Uzair, mujhe bandook test nahi karni aati!”
Uzair gestured for you to keep your voice down, “Tension mat lo. Hamza se keh dena woh kar lega. Bas do ghante jaana hai. Apna muh dikha dena aur wapis aa jaana”.
He added, “Aur haan, do teen gaaliyaan bhi de aana”. You laughed, pushing him lightly, apologising when he almost tumbled over.
“Aap bahut strong ho,” you whined, helping him back up.
—
You sat with your back ramrod straight as Hamza drove you and Rehman to the factory.
“Uzair, tu theek toh hai?” Hamza asked for the hundredth time, “Aise kyun baitha hai jaise koi jung me ja raha hai?”
If only he knew.
You relaxed slightly, arm coming to rest against the window.
When you entered the factory, the men stood up straighter, asking after your health. You nodded and smiled, immediately dropping the latter when everyone looked at you with confusion.
“Bhai, chai mangwa dun?” Donga asked.
You nodded, “Haan, please. Aur sab ke liye mangwa do. Aaj mausam achcha hai, toh samose bhi mangwa hi do”.
Donga looked at you like you had grown two heads, before nodding, “Ji bhai”.
You ran your hand across your face, “Kya kar rahi hun!”
“Oye khotte,” Hamza piped up, “Chalein bandook try karne?”
“Hamza,” you stuttered, “Aap- Tum try karo. Main bas dekhta hun”.
“Kya? Tu abhi bhi beemar hai kya? Bandook try karna tujhe itna pasand hai…”
You scratched your head, “Bas jab tak 100% nahi ho jaun, tu try kar le na… Lodu?”
He shook his head at you, “Tu bas rest kar. Ek ghante mein ghar chhod aaunga. Pata nahi kya ho gaya hai tujhe”. He muttered to himself as he left the room.
You sat down, praying the next hour went by fast.
—
You returned home to the smell of food burning. You rushed into the kitchen, “Kya hua?” only to see Ulfat and Aqlaakh in a corner and you/Uzair at the stove, running his hands through your hair in frustration.
“Y/N,” you started, moving closer, “Kya hua?”
Uzair turned towards you, “Mujhse roti nahi ban rahi”.
You could see the frustration and helplessness simmering within him and placed your hand on his back. He stiffened and turned towards you, “Kya kar rahi- rahe ho?”
“Chhod do. Kamre me chalo aur thoda rest karo. Hum dono ki tabiyat theek hi nahi hai”. You turned to Aqlaakh, “Aqlaakh, iss hafte khaane tum banaoge. Bhabhi ki tabiyat theek nahi hai”.
You turned to Ulfat, “Bhabhi, please Y/N ko kahein ki rest kare. Ye bas stress liye jaa rahi hai”.
Ulfat softened, “Y/N, tumhara shohar ek dum sahi keh raha hai. Please rest karo. Dono rest karo. Main doctor ko bula lungi”.
“Bhabhi, nahi,” you said firmly, surprising even yourself, “Doctor ki koi zarurat nahi hai. Bas, aaram ki”. Ulfat looked at you suspiciously, but let it slide, “Theek hai. Jao”.
—
That night, you stayed up late. Around midnight, you crept into the kitchen and quietly made a helping of kheer, before taking it back to the room.
When you returned, Uzair was already up, “Kahaan gayi thi?”
You showed him the kheer, “Khaana banaye hue itna waqt ho gaya, mann nahi maan raha tha”. You sat next to him on the bed, “Aap try karenge?”
He took the spoon from your hand and took a bite. You sat in silence, before he broke it, “Kheer mera sabse favourite dessert hai”.
“Pata hai,” you said, nudging him for the spoon, before taking a bite, “Isiliye banaya hai”.
“Tumhe kaise pata?”
“Jab bhi ghar me kheer banti hai, aap ki plate bilkul saaf hoti hai,” you giggled.
He went quiet, before softly saying, “Thank you”.
“Kis liye?”
“For everything. Bina bataye mera itna khayal rakhti ho, aur maine kabhi bhi-”
“Aap mujhe protect kar rahe the,” you said, “Pata hai. Bahut hi ajeeb tareeke ka protection hai, par ab main samajh gayi hun”.
You took another bite, before saying, “Uzair”.
“Hm?”
“Jab- Agar hum wapis apni bodies me aa jayenge… Kya hum tab bhi aise baith ke kheer kha sakte hain?”
You saw his features soften, “Bilkul. Ab se kabhi tumhe dur nahi rakhunga”. You smiled at him, before urging him to take another bite.
—
You woke up to the scent of jasmine.
You sat up slowly, rubbing your eyes, before realising your hands were soft again. You quickly opened your eyes, taking in the dainty ring on your finger, your smaller hands, and the chipping nail polish.
“Ya Allah,” you breathed, before turning towards your husband, “Uzair, uthein!”
You took in the way he pressed his eyes shut before opening them. The way they rounded before he sat up and looked at his own hands, and then at you, “Wapis aa gaye?”
You nodded, tearing up, “Wapis aa gaye”.
He hesitated for just a second, before pulling you into a hug, “Wapis aa gaye”.
That morning, you took longer to get dressed, thankful to be back in your own bodies.
You sat in front of the mirror and braided your own hair, and Uzair looked at you in the mirror, “Tumhe kabhi kaha nahi, par tum bahut khoobsurat ho”.
“Chup!” you scolded with no real heat behind it, flushing pink.
He came closer and placed his hands on your shoulders before leaning down and kissing your cheek.
“Uzair, aap kya kar rahein hain?”
“Wahi jo bahut pehle karna chahiye tha”.
You covered your face with your palms and Uzair chuckled, before straightening up, “Chai?”
“Haan, bas do minute, main banati hun”.
“Nahi,” he said, “Aaj main banaunga”.
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
Tag list (If you'd like to be added/removed please let me know!)
This story is set in newly independent India. It started as a one-shot, but I gravely underestimated my interest in Devang's cuteness, and it became a 3-part mini-series, and now it's a 4-part miniseries. I just hope it remains 4 part.
The pictures of Udaybir as Devang Chaturvedi are from this post of @cherryyelixir
Constructive criticism appreciated. This is not beta read, so if you guys find some typos/ errors, please feel free to correct me.
Warnings: Slow burn, crush at first sight, mutual pining, fluff, idiots in love, Devang being a literal cutie, flirting, secret romance.
They had reached the monastery half wet, cheeks red. Their hearts were beating with the possibility of new love, feelings that were wrapping them like creepers on a tree. Walking side by side felt like a task as their bodies seemed to move closer with each step. It was fortunate that his hands were full of groceries, or else there would be no stopping him from holding her hand.
Monobeena saw them and ran to her, her caring nature coming out, seeing her sister wet. She rushed to wipe her long hair as Devang kept the things. Beena even told Devang to get changed and dry himself. He moved away, but his eyes never left hers. His brown eyes oozed out unspoken words of love. She wanted to do nothing but run into his arms. The way he had shielded her from the rain, held her when she felt scared, she felt safe around him. But she was also scared for his life. Monobeena didi would surely bonk his head and might also break a limb if she got to know anything about this. Tapan da would probably do the same. They were extremely protective of her, and she did not want him to be injured before the Olympics.
Devang was waiting by the lake since 4.30. It had been almost an hour, the sun was setting slowly, the sky turning into shades of orange. She had not come yet. He was nervous. Did he scare her, or make her uncomfortable? He might have moved a little too fast. He felt a faint ache in his heart at the thought of her not coming. It was a few minutes past 5.30. He almost lost hope when he heard swift footsteps. He turned to see her there.
She was taking deep breaths; it was clear she had run there. “Der to nahi ho gai na? Didi ke kaam de diya tha, isiliye…” (I am not late, right? Didi gave me some work, so...)
Her face was flushed; the strain of the run and the rising emotions were the reason. Devang felt so relieved. He held his hand out for her,
“Koi baat nahi. Baitho mere sath. Thak gai hogi.” ( No problem. Sit down, you must be tired.) The sudden transition from 'aap' to 'tum' made her a little nervous. Her heart was beating faster.
“Ji. Aap bohot der se intezaar kar rahe hain?” (Were you waiting here from a long time)
“Tumhare liye to sari Zindagi intezaar kar sakta hu” (I can wait for you my whole life)
Here it was again. He was teasing again, flirting with her, but as she looked at his eyes, taking his hand, his eyes held nothing but a promising glance. There was no trace of mischief, only an earnest promise. Was he promising her something she had never felt confident thinking about?
She sat beside him, quiet, looking at the horizon. The sun had set, but the sky still clung on to its traces, still orange, with a slight purple beginning to surround it. Devang glanced at her face.
“Aj baitein nahi karni? Kuch puchna nahi hain?” (Don't you want to talk today? Don't you want to ask anything?)
“Aapko kuch khehna hain kya?” (Do you want to ask something?)
“Mujhe laga tumhe kuch puchna hoga? Ya mujhe kuch batana hain.” (I thought you wanted to ask me something? Or did you want me to tell something)
“Dekhiya apko kuch baat nahi karni to main jati hu. Bhaag bhaag ke ao aur inko kuch khehna bhi nahi”, she muttered. (Look, you don;t have anything to talk about I am leaving. I came here running, and he does not have anything to say.)
“Aree tum to gussa hogai” (Oh, you are angry), he held her wrists to keep her seated beside him. “Tumne itna chidhaya. Mera bhi to thora hak banta hain na? Aur dekho tumhare gal kaise laal hoagaye hain” (You teased me so much. Now it is my chance. And see, how red your cheeks have turned), he commented as he placed the other palm on her soft cheeks, pulling it softly.
She was devastated. Why was she not getting a witty reply? Has her brain finally given up? It was all Devang, his stupid smile, his stupid face, his stupid hair and his stupid brown eyes. It had made her stupid. She tried to look at him with angry eyes, but it was useless; she had grown too fond of him. Maybe this is why Didi could never get herself to leave Tapan da. It was annoying how she could just sit there being teased, with no retort in her mind, yet she liked it.
Devang understood the vulnerable look in her eyes. He could not bring himself to torment her further, “Mujhe pasand ho tum. Bohot zaada. Tumhari ye baithei, mujhe chirharna. Aur ye jo pyaari akhein hain, aur ye jo tumhari pyaari ni naak hain,” his hand went to boop her nose,” aur tumhare gal hain”, as he pulled her cheeks, “aur ye jo puri ki puri tum ho”, he went on to hold her in his arms, “mujhe bohot zaada pasand ho. Pyaar hoagay hain mujhe.” (I like you a lot. The way you talk, your teasing, your pretty eyes, your cute little nose, your cheeks and you as a whole. I like you very much. I have fallen in love with you.)
Never in her lifetime had she expected such a confession. It was clear, no hidden hints, just open and clear. She started giggling and moved forward to hug him. With the dawn melting into night, the two individuals had begun a new journey, a journey of love.
This had continued for the next few months. Almost every evening, they had managed to sneak out and meet by the lake. The banyan tree was the witness to their love. She would sit sometimes holding his callused hands, sometimes reading him poems, sometimes crocheting something. Other times, he would rest his head on her lap as she softly ran her fingers through his hair. They were each other’s calm. The hectic days felt so much better with each other. They could talk endlessly about anything and everything.
They were extremely careful about the fact that they wanted to keep this a secret, at least till the Olympics. She had clearly stated the possibility of physical harm from her sister and brother-in-law, and Devang had not really taken it seriously, but he could never deny her, so he had just stayed silent. Every day, she discovered a different side of Devang; behind the sweet, calm, mature man was an equally fun, clingy and loving partner. He could say the most ridiculous things and even tease her in the worst way, but no one would ever believe her if she said that The Devang Chaturvedi had said that. He loved listening to gossip and had comments about everything that happened. She loved discovering this carefree side of him.
Raghubir had found something unusual. Devang was his closest friend in the team. He had always taken pride in many things, his sharp observation skills being one, and in the past few months, Devang had started behaving strangely. He seemed calmer than before, if that was even possible. He got so much less irritated by Himmat and his fights; moreover, almost every evening, he would vanish somewhere and come back with a soft smile on his face. Things got more suspicious when, at dinner, he had smelled a faint lady's perfume on Devang’s shirt when he sat beside him. Even when he was teased even more mercilessly by Tapan da’s sister-in-law, he seemed unbothered and looked at her with a smirk, quite unusual from his usual calm gaze. Something was happening, and Raghubir had to find out.
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This story is set in newly independent India. It started as a one-shot, but I gravely underestimated my interest in Devang's cuteness and now it's a 3-part miniseries (I hope it remains 3-part, which I sincerely am doubting after this part)
The pictures of Udaybir as Devang Chaturvedi are from this post of @cherryyelixir
Constructive criticism appreciated. This is not beta read, so if you guys find some typos/ errors, please feel free to correct me.
Warnings: Slow burn, crush at first sight, mutual pining, fluff, idiots in love, Devang being a literal cutie, flirting secret romance.
Devang did not want to leave her alone; he wanted to keep talking to her, but the voice seemed like it was Raghubir's, and he would definitely come searching for him if he did not go to him. He absolutely did not want that to happen. Well, it was because she and Raghubir were always at crossroads. Yet, Raghubir respected her and her attitude, and it did make Devang a little insecure to be honest. Raghubir was a prince, for god’s sake. Thus, the best was keeping them at a safe distance.
The next day, Devang was practising as he saw her move with a bag that seemed to be full of flour. She looked beautiful even then; she must look so pretty on casual walks. Wait, she had said she liked long walks with the right person, did she mean what he thought she meant? Oh no, he was an idiot, he lacked brains. What was he even thinking? She placed a complete opportunity in his hands, and he left? He should be punished, but he needed to talk to her now.
He left his stick and moved to the kitchen area.
“Kuch chahiye apko Devang ji?” (Do you need something Mr Devang?), she looked at him with her big, beautiful, dark eyes and he was spellbound.
“Aap- matlab, woh ki aap-” (You- I mean, that I, you-), why was he fumbling?
“Ji? Pani chahiye apko? Gala sukh raha hain?” (Yes? Do you want some water? Is your throat dry?), she smirked as she handed him a glass of water; their hands touched, and Devang turned red at that very moment. He took the glass and finished the whole glass of water in one go.
He took a deep breath and started“Ji mujhe ye khehna tha ki--”(I just wanted to say-)
“Bon, shon na maa, ja ektu kauke niye bazar theke ei jinis gulo ene de. Ke jane kothai beriye che tor Jamai babu. Ami ar pari na lok take niye.” (Sister, listen dear, you take someone along and go to the market and bring me a few things. I have no idea where your brother-in-law went. I don't know what to do with this man.)Monobeena had entered, talking in Bengali to her sister with a list in her hand.
“Hain didi, ami ne dichi”, (Okay didi, I will go and bring it) she answered her sister. “Didi, aka to ato jinis atne parbo na, kake niye jai?” (Didi, I will not be able to bring so many things alone. Who do I take?)
Monobeena looked and saw Devang still standing, holding the glass, now empty. Devang was a sweet, innocent boy, decent, too decent. He was no threat, he was responsible too, so she could let her sister go with him. “Devang ji aap thora chale jaiye mere behen ke sath. Waise bhi saman to aalogo ke liye hi hain.” (Mr Devang, go with my sister. Anyways, the things she is bringing are mainly for you all)
He? Would he go to the market with her? What? Yes? He would definitely go. He composed himself and said, “Ji. Zaaroor Bhabhi.” (Yes, sure). Monobeena was content hearing this. She left the kitchen to do some other work.
Devang looked at her; she was smiling at him. Oh, so this was her plan. Oh, how he liked it. She was so sharp. Here, he was fumbling, and she understood even his fumbles. He shyly lowered his eyes as he scratched his neck, “Chale?” (Let's go?)
“Hain, chaliye” (Yes, let's go.)
“Aapke peche” (Behind you)
“Sath chal rahe hain, to sath hi chalete hain?” (We are going together, right, so let's go side by side)
Devang smiled. He liked this about her so much that she was straightforward and confident. While it was becoming increasingly difficult for her not to look at him and squish his cheeks. He was so adorable. Before seeing him, she never knew even a grown man could be so cute.
They move side by side to the market. She selected fresh vegetables with so much accuracy, bargained, and made sure they had the freshest ones while he held on to the bags. This was so utterly domestic, and Devang’s heart fluttered. This was far from what we would call romantic, but there was something so intimate and comfortable about this mundane task that made this experience one of a kind.
After about an hour of grocery shopping, Devang saw a small kulfi stall.
“Ye apke liye.” (This is for you) Devang handed her a kulfi.
“Kulfi? Apko yaad tha? Mujhe laga shayad maine galti se kal apko sari baathein bangla mein bol diya hoga, isiliye aap bina kuch kahe chale gaye.” (Kulfi? You remembered? I thought, I might have spoken to you in Bangla yesterday by mistake. That's why you left with out saying anything)
She was openly teasing him now. His cheeks turned red; he deserved it. He was an idiot, “Ji yaad tha.” (I remembered)
She laughed, looking at his shyness. God, he was adorable. What would she even do to this man? Well, she could tease him more. His shy, boyish, crooked smile made her day.
As she was plotting to tease him some more, suddenly, it started raining. They had to run under the shade of a closed shop. The market quickly got empty as the people scattered to find shelter. There was a sound of thunder; she shivered a little and moved towards him. Devang moved in front of her, sheltering her from the rain. The drops of water gathered near her cheeks, her hair partially wet, stuck to her forehead. She looked like those paintings he had seen in museums. Devang, too, was partially wet.
The air around them seemed heavy. The proximity made her heart beat faster. She could even smell his cologne; her cheeks were slowly turning red. Oh, so she blushed too, Devang thought.
“Aap kafi gentleman type hain. Nice.” (You are quite the gentleman type. Nice)
“Ji, kosis karta hu.” (Well, I try.)
“Waise acha hain. Gentleman bane rahiye.” (Well, that is nice. Keep being a gentleman then), she muttered. Did she not want him to be gentlemanly? The question promptly came into Devang's mind.
Another thunder struck, and she moved closer to him, scared. He slowly moved his hand to hold hers, “Kuch nahi hoga, main hu na.” (Nothing will happen, I am right here) At this point, he was completely shielding her from the rain. His body was a shield between her and the calamities. The plans of teasing completely vanished from her mind, all melting in the close proximity of the two beating hearts, as she looked up at him with doe eyes, “Aapko daar nahi lagta?” (Do you not feel scared?)
“Lagta hain na. Per toofan se, nahi aapse.” (I do. But not from the storm but from you?)
“Mujhse? Maine kya kiya?”, (From me? What did I do?) her voice was trembling a bit. It was so unlike her.
Devang moved his hand to her soft cheeks, softly moving his knuckles against them. Her confident self slowly turning shy, “Aapki baatein, aapki ye hasi, aur aapki ye aakhein. Daar lagta hain mujhe, kahi pyaar hogaya to?” (The way you speak, the way you smile, your eyes. I am scared, what if I fall in love with you?)
“Kya apko main pasand hu?” (Do you like me?), she asked. She knew the answer, but she wanted to be sure. She wanted no confusion between them.
“Is baat ka jawab to aapko pata hain. Varna mera awaz kisike samne ladkharata thori hain? Woh to mujhe kuch baatein der se samajh aayi. Sab apki tarha samajhdar nahi hote hain na. Per hain ab apke sath waqt guzaruga to samajh jaunga. Samjhayengi na aap mujhe? Pyaar se?” (You know the answer to this. Or else, why would my voice stutter in front of you? I know, I took time to understand a few things. Well, not everyone is as sharp as you are. But now that I will spend more time with you, I will become sharper. You will make me right? With love?). He whispered near her ear, his hand still holding her.
Oh no. He was flirting. She had never considered this possibility. She was confident and happy, teasing him, the fact that Devang would come back with a retort never crossed her mind. She had not even imagined that Devang, the shy, calm man, would be so teasing. He even suggested he liked her. She had nothing to say. All the sarcasm, witty remarks, and teasing had gone down the drain (average woman for her pasandida mard). It was clear that Devang had had his fill of being teased, and now it was her turn, and it seemed he was enjoying it way too much.
The rain stopped, and they stepped out. Walking side by side, with the things in hand.
“Waise kulfi bhi khali, baatein ki Karli, aur long walk woh to chal hi raha hain. Mujhe dhalte suraj ko dekhna pasand hain. Aj shaam talab ke pass wale peir ke neeche baithke shaam hote dekhe?” (Well, we have had kulfi, had long conversations, and the long walk too is going on. I like watching sunsets. So, how about we watch the sun set over the lake, this evening?)
I first saw Udaybir as Devang Chaturvedi in Gold when I was in school, and I kid you not, I found him extremely cute. There was this idea in my head for a long time after I went back to watch Gold, after seeing him in Dhurandhar, but I was unsure if anyone wanted to read about this character of his, as he was not quite popular. But seeing this post of @cherryyelixir and some really exciting messages from @saniisinsane, I decided to write this down.
This story is set in newly independent India. It started as a one-shot, but I gravely underestimated my interest in Devang's cuteness and now its a 3-part miniseries (I hope it remains 3-part)
Constructive criticism appreciated. This is not beta read, so if you guys find some typos/ errors, please feel free to correct me.
Warnings: Slow burn, crush at first sight, mutual pining, fluff, idiots in love, Devang being a literal cutie, secret romance.
No one, absolutely no one, questioned when Devang Chaturvedi was made the Captain of the Indian Hockey team for the 1948 Berlin Olympics. Apart from being a great player, he was calm, level-headed, and mature, and knew how to keep the team spirit intact. He knew when to pass the ball, he knew how to control fights, and he knew how to draw boundaries. He was the glue that was binding the team. Yet only she knew what lay behind this calm man. She knew his sarcasm, his dry humour, his anger and also his clingy nature.
It all started 6 months back, when they 1st met.
She was unsure why her Didi and Jamaibabu (brother-in-law) were fighting again. Monobeena, her sweet but fiery Didi, was on her feet as soon as Tapan Das, the manager of the Indian hockey team, her dear jamaibabu, had announced he would be training the new boys for the Indian Hockey team, again. But that was not the reason; what he had suggested was that someone else was to cook, which made Didi fume in anger. Apparently, Mr Patel, who was funding, had a condition that his wife would cook, and she was the best cook. Beena didi could take anything but not the comparison made to her cooking. Thus, it seemed Beena didi would have to fund the food. She had already pledged her jewellery too many times for his hockey, and would now have to do it again.
Their pair amused her greatly; they were adorable and chaotic at the same time. Jamaibabu and Didi were an unlikely couple; he was chaotic and stubborn, and he could do anything for hockey, and Didi, even though she would never accept it, would do anything for Tapan. He had been drunk, reckless, her father had told her to leave him, but she could not because she loved him, and also because he was a good man (if you removed his drinking habit, though). This is what she had concluded after coming to Beena didi’s place after her college exams were over, for a much-needed break from her monotonous life.
Hearing that they would be going to the monastery for training of the National hockey team, she was too excited to be honest. She had already declared that she would also be helping Didi, even though her cooking skills were not as expert as Didi's; she would surely be able to play the assistant to her. Monobeena muttered something like, how she would go crazy with a husband like Tapan and then, to add to the chaos, she had herself brought her sister. She, being the perfect sister to Monobeena, had replied that she was a saint; it was her influence that was making her so stubborn and fiery. As a younger sister surely learned from her elder. Beena Didi left the room muttering, "Ami lai diye mathai tulechi ebar to bhugte hobe" (I myself have spoilt her, now I have to suffer).
She just laughed upon hearing this and started imagining the days in the monastery, watching hockey and interacting with the team. A knock at the door broke her thoughts. She looked around to see that Tapan Da and Didi had started another “heated” conversation. So, she had to move to open the door.
As she opened the door, she came across the most beautiful pair of brown eyes she had ever seen. It seemed as if it were molten honey, glowing in the rays of the setting sun. The thick lashes curved beautifully, framing those almond eyes. She was almost jealous of them. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and built like an athlete. His clean-shaven face showed his sharp jawline.
“Ji ye Mr. Tapan Das ka ghar hain?” (Is it Mr. Tapan Das’s place?), the man said with a soft, almost awkward crooked smile. This broke her trance. She was thinking how she must have surely creeped him out. “Ji hain, ek minute” (Yes, just a minute). As if on cue, Tapan Da came. “Aree Devang. Come in, come in. Perfectly on time, I see you have met my dear sister-in-law. And dear, this Devang Chaturvedi, one of the finest players of our team. I tell you, Devang, she was so excited to meet the team.” Devang gave her a nod as the men moved to the sitting room. Her face was red when she said she would help; she had no idea the team had such a handsome player. It would surely be quite a few months.
The next two days passed in a blur. Setting up the place for the players at the monastery was a mammoth task. She was checking the list of things in the kitchen, while Monobina and Tapan had probably gone off to set the beds for the players and check other things. Unknown to her, Devang came behind her.
“Ji thora pani milega” (Could I get some water?)
“Hain, ek minute” (Sure, Just a minute)
“Aap ko hockey pasand hain?” (Do you like hockey?)
“Mujhe zaada pata nahi hain, but I like Tapan da’s enthusiasm. This game is everything for him.” (I don't know much about the game, but I like Tapan da’s enthusiasm. This game is everything for him)
“Aap hindi kafi acha bolti hain.” (You speak Hindi quite well)
“Hain, too many Hindi-speaking friends.” (Yes, too many Hindi-speaking friends)
This was their first proper conversation. They had smiled at each other, soft and sweet. Soon the monastery was filled with the other players, and Devang got busier, but now and then he saw a glimpse of her. Helping in the kitchen, making sure the team was well fed and even sometimes checking their wounds. It would be a lie if he did not look forward to the glimpses.
Devang had found her quite beautiful when he first saw her. She was sweet, cheerful, and used sarcasm often to address the players. She was confident, observant, and upfront with her ideas. Not as sharp-tongued as her elder sister, but she had a similar twang to herself. Her character was quite a balance of sharpness and softness, with which she cared for the team, made it quite difficult for Devang to stay away or to not be attracted to her.
When she saw Devang carry Raghubir's stuff, she had noticed and taken it upon herself to make sure Raghubir had zero help in his personal tasks. She teased Raghubir, always addressing him as Mr Prince; she made sure he picked up his own plate. Thus had deepened Devang's crush on her. Every time their eyes met, she smiled, her eyes shining. They shared small conversations about simple things during the breaks. These conversations always left him wanting for more, but he could never bring himself to start a conversation. He never had an issue talking to people, but she was not just another person; she was the one who had made his heart beat faster. He did not want to make her uncomfortable.
One evening after the practice ended, he went across the monastery for a walk. Raghubir and Himmat had fought again, and he was tired of being the mediator; for once, he needed some time away from these stubborn men. He spotted a huge banyan tree near a big pond. The place seemed serene, quite peaceful to finally breathe away from the chaos of the team. As he went near it to have a seat, he saw her sitting with a yarn, crocheting something. The setting sun made immuminated a orangish golden hue, which made her sand-like complexion glow, her long hair in a loose braid, her soft cotton saree wrapped around her, fluttering softly in the wind, made her look like a nymph.
“Baith sakta hu?” (Can I sit?)
“Ji zaroor baithiye” (Yes, sure have a seat)
“Apko crocheting pasand hain?” (Do you like crocheting?)
“Nahi main to bas time pass kar rahi thi.” (No, I was just passing my time)
Devang was confused. Did he ask her the wrong question? Looking at his confused face, she quickly said, “Aree nahi mujhe pasand hain main bas Mazak kar rahi thi.” (Oh no, I was just joking)
Here was her teasing again. "Aur aap yaha kya kar rahe hain?" (And what are you doing here?)
“Bas thori shanti ki khoj” (Just a search for some peace)
“Are phir se kya kardiya Tapan da ke players ne ki khud shanti dooth ko shanti dhundna par raha hain” (Oh no, what have the players of Tapan Da done again, that the peach maker himself had to come in search of peace)
“Bas ye log bohot ladte hain. So competitive." (Its just that they fight a lot. So competitive)
“Apko ladhai pasand nahi? Ap bhi to player hain, to competitive spirit to aap mein bhi honi chahiye” (Do you not like fighting? You too are a player, so you too should have the competitive spirit)
“Bina baat ke nahi. Aur aap apko bas chidhana pasand hain kya?” (Not without a cause. And do you just like teasing?)
“Nahi, kulfi aur lambi baithein bhi pasand hain. Aur kabhi kabhi, sahi insaan ke sath, lambe walks” (No, I like kulfi, long conversations and sometimes, with the right person, long walks)
“Achaa ” (Okay)
He was happy; he finally had a deeper conversation with her. She liked kulfi; he loved kulfi. She liked long walks too; it was cute, but he had never seen her take very long walks. Maybe because she was busy cooking for so many players. He was going to say something, but suddenly, he heard someone calling his name from afar and stood up.
“Shayad koi bula raha hain, main jata hu.” (I think someone is calling me, I have to go)
She just smiled as he left. He was so cute, it was something adorable in him not being able to understand her hint. She laughed; it would surely be a task making such a mature and calm man understand her implications. But she was up for it.
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