|the naive rebel|
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xxxvii | all's well that ends well
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word count- 2730

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INAAYAT
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The morning is dull and hasty. There's excitement but at the same time, I am hating it.

But this morning is way better than Monday's, where all of us woke up with a dreading hangover. Ishaan had ruthlessly disrupted my sleep early that morning so that I can pretend to drop Mishti, Nikhil and Garima to the hostel.

He had prepared a huge glass of coffee for me whilst I cried over my bursting head's ache. He had only rolled his eyes at my pain and retorted with a who-asked-you-to-drink-in-first-place look.

He made sense.

I remembered nothing about the Sunday night, and I don't think my heart was brave enough to know what all I did to embarrass myself in front of him.

The one and the only thing I remembered was, that I was no more a clumsy person.

Before I could soar high like a phoenix over my newfound ability, I had asked Ishaan to stand on the lower end of the staircase and I had climbed down from the top-IN MY HEELS.

Nothing more to say, I sprained my ankle that early morning.

Fantastic.

After my hopes were shattered like the pieces of glass-which reminds me-why did I bring a cocktail glass from the club with me to Ishaan's house?

Nikhil, Mishti and Garima were then stuffed inside Ishaan's car after a lot of hard work by Sameer and Ishaan. I was enjoying the show with a coffee glass and also a sprained ankle.

Oh, the looks Ishaan had passed.

Ishaan had driven us back to the hostel and had asked me to take the driving seat before Sameer and I woke the other logs up and Ishaan acted as if Sameer had called him down from his room to help the others.

Can't risk his nerd look, can we?

In shorter words, those sleepy heads didn't get any idea about Ishaan's presence in the club.

'All's well that ends well'

Not. Because after everyone retired back to their hostel room, Ishaan grilled me for thirty minutes lecturing about how I shouldn't be so irresponsible and pestering me to remember the conversation I had with the bartender. It took my brain an iced tea and a good breakfast, to finally get back the specific memory from that night.

Moving on, today's Wednesday and the event is today. The college has been decorated like a bride on her wedding day. Lightings, flowers, lamps, banners. The aroma of freshly prepared Indian snacks and the chattering of students surrounds the entire campus.

Also, today's Rakshabandhan. I am supposed to leave for Mumbai today so that I can at least reach my house before the day ends. It's the one day I cannot afford to be without Ditu. The nonsensical rule that the college officials ordered us to follow makes no absolute sense but their end of the bargain cannot be neglected as well.

And so here I am, staring at my blue icy tints in my room's mirror meanwhile, Mishti is searching tirelessly for a good traditional attire to wear for the event.

For the first time in four months, I am ditching my black contact lenses and going to the college with my blue iris. No, the case isn't over but I have decided to tell people-if they ask-which they will- that I am wearing a fancy lens for the event. Even Mishti has decided to wear her honey-coloured lenses, so I have a company.

"You are already ready and look at me," Mishti huffs and I smile at her misery. She has been confused since day one and has still not figured out her outfit. I, on the other hand, didn't have to bother with my outfit because Ditu had couriered it to me some days back as my Rakhi gift.

"Wear the saree you bought for the event. You look bomb in it, don't overstress, Mishti." I try relaxing her. She pouts and thinks about my suggestion when my phone beeps indicating a notification.

Ditu- 'Happy Rakhi Ina! I miss you. Come home soon!' Her text reads and I send her a quick reply telling her that I'll be back home before late evening.

"Cool then. I'll go and get changed quickly." Mishti informs me, taking her saree and leaving the room. I pin my yellow dupatta over my olive green blouse and take a contented sigh, before sitting on the bed to wear my footwear.

I choose a sandal with a lower heel to pair with my outfit, keeping in mind that I have not lost my super talent of clumsiness. I try smiling but the guilt in my heart and the vacancy of the festive vibe pinches me.

I didn't want to spend my day with those alumni, I would rather spend this day with my family. But, here I am stuck because of one psycho person who decided to kill poor students in an Engineering college.

I mean. Who even does that, huh!?

Sometimes, I start thinking that what if everything was different? I would have stayed in my hometown, completing my major and getting a job right after. Writing a book and spending my day with what I love to do.

Honestly, I am getting used to this college, this place but these aren't mine, to start with. It's a temporary show, a piece of my heart will forever belong here and if I think, I would miss it once I leave. But, I want to be back.

It's weird. I never wanted to come here but the motivation to help those sad parents, made me want to work hard. But, today...I just wish that none of this had happened.

It's just a pang of homesickness, and I'll get over it.

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I S H A A N
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"My eyes are deceiving me. This cannot be true."

Nikhil shows his exaggerating response to my look and I slyly ignore him. That's the best response I can muster when I have no actual reply to fit him.

I don't even believe this myself but here I am, standing in front of the mirror whilst Nikhil spends his shocking seconds over my look.

"The bear has become a human, finally." The finally holds so much power that I can feel its weight radiating over.

I mean, shaving my beard isn't a great deal, is it?

"Bro, everyone's going to be so surprised. Shaan Khurrana, you are going to be the centre of attention today, as much as I would have hated anyone else taking that spot of mine, for you, I am rather ecstatic." He fans and I seriously think he needs to get himself checked. What's the big deal?

Everyone's going to get all decked up seeing the fact it's an event with a traditional theme.

"It isn't a big deal," I reply nonchalantly, moving towards my bed-side for my phone, to check the pending notifications.

'Hey, I am here.' The message reads and I send a quick thank you in reply.

"Are you ready to go?" I ask Nikhil, sliding my phone in the pocket of my kurta.

"Done." Comes his reply as he wears his footwear before leaving the room and I follow him but not before I throw a last glance at the mirror. I straighten my collar and take a deep breathe before I leave the room, too.

Fuck, why the hell am I so nervous?

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Third Person
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The clattering and chattering fill the entire auditorium up. The chairs are arranged symmetrically and the stage's lightened up with various hues. The students enter the hall, laughing, giggling and showing off their attire for the day.

Some are happy, some are sad, some nervous and two of them are curious. Very curious.

Everything seems perfect and calm but is it the calmness before some storm, that's in store for them?

Inaayat and Mishti enter the auditorium, the coolness relaxes their tensed minds but the dim sitting side adds up to their misery.

The crane their necks to spot Garima and the boys as they walk randomly in all directions.

"Aayat!" The loud calling brings their attention towards the spot where Garima and Sameer are standing and talking, obviously waiting for their other friends.

"Coming." Inaayat smiles in response, holding one end of her long skirt, she carefully treads towards the secluded corner her friends are waiting for them.

Nearing them, Sameer's eyes widen considerably looking at Inaayat's unmasked iris.

"Ah-I-Angel. Your," he stammers and tries signalling Inaayat but she only blinks her eyes in response, trying to tell him that everything's under control.

"I know right, you both wore contacts. Should have told me, too." Garima whines before praising the two girls for their outfits.

"I know, all three of you look so pretty." Sameer smiles at them.

The chattering slows down to the abrupt silence, and the auditorium possesses an utter stillness.

"Here comes Nikhil." Sameer laughs even before he looks at the gate. All four of them turn towards the entrance door of the auditorium.

As Sameer guessed, Nikhil enters the hall but what catches Inaayat's eye is the person behind Nikhil, who enters with his eyes glued to the floor, his hands rubbing his nape as he awkwardly follows Nikhil's lead.

Inaayat's lips mould into a sly smirk as she notices the change in her bear.

Nikhil spots the group and walks towards them with Ishaan on his tail. "Hey." Nikhil greets them, playfully hooting for the girls in his gang while Ishaan and Inaayat are busy trying to check each other out without getting caught by the other one.

"So you shaved, huh," Inaayat whispers as she smiles coyly at him.

"I guess." He says, eyes still on her.

"How did the impossible, finally become possible?" She taunts and he narrows his eyes at her.

Only if she knew.

There's an announcement asking the students to take their seats as the event is about to get started. Mishti, Sameer, Nikhil and Garima start moving towards the seating area whereas Inaayat and Ishaan stay back bickering with each other.

"Wearing heels?" He smirks at her, hitting the hammer on her lowest point.

"I am." She scowls and starts walking towards the seating arrangement when Ishaan wraps his fingers around her arm and pulls her back to him. Inaayat looks at others, nervously-who aren't even paying any attention to them.

"What are you doing?" She turns around and whispers yell at him. Her eyes as wide as saucers but a faint red hue tinting her cheeks.

Ishaan smiles at her flustered state, and bends a little, matching her height. "You look beautiful." He whispers huskily and with a tone so low that manages to send sparks throughout her body.

She raises her eyes to meet his, and something flashes back in her mind.

The happenings of Sunday night.

"Let's go, they are probably wondering about us." He tells and pulls her towards the row their friends are seated in.

Inaayat goes ahead to take a seat between Mishti and Garima which they had saved for her while Ishaan takes the seat next to Nikhil at the end of the row.

Inaayat dissolves between the conversations thrown at her by Mishti and Garima, who gossip and talk about everything. They discuss the other girls and the guys before they are interrupted by the Principal's voice who comes on the stage to commence the programme.

"Good afternoon students. So glad to see you all here." He smiles at the students and tells them about the college's history-it's foundation and how the college has managed to create its name among the top colleges and how the college is famous for its excellence in academics.

Academically as well as controversially.

Inaayat and Ishaan scoff at their thoughts, respectively. The lights of the seating area are dimmed while the stage is now lightened with colourful lights as the Principal asks the students to applaud for some well-known engineering students from all over the country.

"All over the country? I thought only this college's alumni are coming." Mishti voices her doubt and Inaayat nods in question too.

"How did they manage to get IIT students here?" Garima questions as she scans the guests who introduce themselves one by one.

"How do you know they are IITians?" Inaayat questions, confused at the recent developments.

"We know them. Last year these students had come to judge the inter-state quiz which was scheduled on our college's campus." Mishti answers the question.

"Quiz-judges..?" Inaayat turns her attention towards the stage where the last guest graces her presence. Greeting the students with her mesmerising smile, she introduces herself to them but Inaayat certainly needed no introduction, cause the last guest is the very girl whom she had grown up with, whom she had seen crying and laughing at the weirdest situations. The girl whom she missed more than she could ever express.

Aditi Kapoor.

Inaayat gulps back the tears threatening to spill as she looks towards the backstage where her sister is standing with the other guests. She feels a looking gaze on her, and she tilts her neck a little to see Ishaan already looking at her.

A soft knowing smile on his face, as he mouthes her a word that warms and melts her heart at the same time.

'Surprise.'

While Inaayat is busy coping with her sudden happiness and excitement, Ishaan smiles remembering the certain incident.

'Inaayat, wake up.' Ishaan was trying to wake her up but she didn't even budge at his voice.

'Inaayat!' He raised his voice a little seeing her snuggling to her pillow. She should be up so that they can drop the others to the hostel before they wake up.

'Let me sleep, Ditu.' She whispered, covering herself with the duvet again.

'Ditu?' Ishaan had thought.

'Ina-' He was brutally interrupted by the sleepy Inaayat who suddenly woke up with a jerk. Sitting on the bed with her legs crossed, she sniffed and puckered her lips out.

She was still under influence, Ishaan had deduced.

'I miss her.' She whined, fresh tears brimming.

'Who?'

'Ditu...By Aditi. Tell her. I miss her.' Tears traced a path on her cheeks as she chanted about her sister.

'Whose Aditi?'

'My elder sister. I want to meet her. I am going to meet her. Bye.' And she had jolted up and run towards the door before Ishaan had picked her up and made her sit on the sofa again.

"I want to tie Rakhi." Inaayat had chanted before she had passed out again.

ADITI'S IN THE HOUSE FINALLY! Before you make an assumption, no she wasn't the character I was talking about in the starting wink wink

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G L O S S A R Y
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~ saree :

a garment consisting of a length of cotton or silk elaborately draped around the body, traditionally worn by women from South Asia.

~ kurta:

A loose collarless shirt of a type worn by people in South Asia, usually with a salwar, churidars, or pyjama.

~ Rakshabandhan:

in South Asia) a popular annual festival, during which a girl or woman gives a cotton bracelet (rakhi) to a brother or someone she considers as one, who in turn treats her as a sister.

Until the next,
keep dodging the bullets,
ऊ.