The Party

Kiya Hai Jisey Humne Zindagi Ki Tarah

Wohh Aashna Bhi Mila Humse Ajnabi Ki Tarah

Jagjit Singh, Kiya Hai Pyar Jisey

The night sky shimmered with stars as Arjun pulled into the driveway of the farmhouse. Fairy lights adorned the trees, their soft glow illuminating the gathering. Somewhere in the distance, laughter mixed with the crackle of a bonfire. He sighed, already regretting his decision to come. Sundays were meant to be spent alone, nursing tea and ignoring the world—not attending a party organized by a friend’s friend.

Ever since his breakup, crowds made him uneasy. Families and couples basking in happiness were unbearable reminders of what he had lost. Yet, here he was, navigating the kind of evening he had promised himself he’d avoid.

Keeping to the edges of the crowd, Arjun sipped on a cup of chai, avoiding conversation. He had just about decided to slip away when a voice cut through the noise.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” a man announced, “please welcome our performer for the evening, the incredible Kavya Shah!”

Arjun froze. The name hit him like a tidal wave. He turned, and there she was—Kavya, standing under the canopy of fairy lights, a microphone in her hand. Her soft pink kurta shimmered faintly, her dupatta draped elegantly over her shoulder. Her hair, loose and flowing, framed her face the way he remembered all too well.

His chest tightened as she smiled at the crowd and adjusted the mic. “Thank you. Tonight, I’d like to share some songs close to my heart.”

The first strum of the guitar sent a shiver down his spine. It was their song, the ghazal she used to hum when they were together. As she sang Kiya Hai Pyar Jisey Humne Zindagi Ki Tarah, each word, each melody, pulled him back into a whirlwind of memories—quiet evenings on her balcony, her laughter as she teased him, and the way her voice used to fill the silences between them.

He stayed rooted to the spot, captivated as she moved through the setlist. Every song she chose seemed deliberate, as if she was weaving the story of their love, their heartbreak, and everything in between. Khaali Haath Shaam Aayee Hai, Do Naina Aur Ek Kahani, Jhuki Jhuki Si Nazar, Jaane Kya Baat Hai, Shaam Se Aankh Mein…the songs enveloped him in a maze of memory and nostalgia. 

During the break, she stepped off the stage and headed toward a small table near the garden. Arjun followed her, his feet moving before his mind could catch up.

“Kavya,” he said softly, his voice barely audible over the hum of the crowd.

She turned, her eyes widening in surprise. “Arjun,” she said, a slow smile spreading across her face. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

“Neither can I,” he admitted. “But maybe I was supposed to be.”

She chuckled, the sound like a balm to his heart. “You, at a Sunday gathering? That’s… surprising.”

“Maybe I’m changing,” he said with a faint smile. “Or maybe it was fate.”

She walked towards him and hugged him. He felt a warmth he hadn’t experienced in ages. 

They talked, the conversation flowing effortlessly. They laughed about old memories—his terrible cooking experiments, her obsession with vintage Bollywood songs, their trips to Lonavala. He told her about work, about how he’d been keeping to himself. She spoke of her music and how it had become her solace after their breakup.

For a fleeting moment, it felt as if time had rewound, as if they were back to being Arjun and Kavya, the couple that everyone envied. The idea that this night could lead to something more made his heart race.

As they reminisced, oblivious to the party that was ongoing, a car horn sounded in the driveway. Kavya glanced over her shoulder, her expression changing subtly. Arjun followed her gaze as a tall man in a crisp white shirt stepped out of a sedan and approached them.

“Ready to leave?” the man asked, his voice warm and familiar. He leaned down to kiss her cheek, a gesture that made Arjun’s stomach churn.

“Arjun,” Kavya said, her tone gentle, “this is Manav, my husband.”

The words landed like a blow. For a moment, Arjun couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. He forced a polite smile, though his insides felt like they were crumbling.

Manav extended a hand. “Hi, nice to meet you. Kavya’s told me a lot about her old friends.”

Arjun shook his hand, his grip firm despite the chaos in his chest. “Nice to meet you too.”

Kavya looked at him with an expression he couldn’t quite place—soft, understanding, and tinged with something unspoken. “It was really good to see you again, Arjun,” she said sincerely.

“You too,” he replied, stepping back as Manav guided her toward the car.

The sedan’s taillights disappeared down the winding road, leaving Arjun alone under the canopy of lights. The bonfire crackled in the background, but its warmth couldn’t reach him.

He stared at the flames, his mind replaying the evening. Somewhere amidst the ache, a strange sense of closure began to settle. Maybe tonight wasn’t about rekindling what was lost, but about learning to let go.

Copyright (c) Pratik Majumdar, 2025. Any article, story, write-up cannot be reproduced in its entirety or i