In this short story, Swapna Sanchita narrates a moving tale of young love, dreams and ambitions existing between the twists and turns of life.
Slouched in her bed, propped up by two pillows, Aryaa watched the raindrops splatter on the glass of the window that looked out into the narrow alleyway that lay like a dead snake between the two five-storeyed buildings that were the only residential properties in Rangrej Gali. The rest of the street was lined with cloth stores, readymade garment shops, sari sellers, four ladies’ tailors, and one gents. Her history textbook lay open before her, unread, as she stole glances at the boy in the flat opposite, willing him to look up once. His window, bathed in the soft glow of a lamp, showcased his silhouette as he hunched at the study table, a quiet storm of concentration brewing around him. “Arjun is destined to go to IIT!” said everyone in his building. “That boy-genius he is,” said the bespectacled, balding man who ran the bookstore that sold second-hand texts for secondary and higher secondary school students.