What If… Life Gives It All Back?

As the school peon rang the day’s final bell, the corridors of Horizon Academy in Guwahati’s Mathgharia erupted with excitement.

It was the last day before the much-awaited summer vacation, and the students needed no second invitation to celebrate. Shouts of excitement rose from the classrooms as children poured out into the corridors, their voices carrying the unmistakable promise of weeks without uniforms and morning assembly. The only thing that dampened the holiday spirit was the piles and piles of homework!

For the teachers, however, the day was not quite over. They still had to stay at school for an hour to finish the remaining chores. Moreover, the principal had thrown a small party for the teachers and the other staff members.

Niribili, the class teacher of Class IV (A), stood in her classroom doorway, watching her students rush out, barely able to control their excitement.

“Bye-bye, Miss. Happy summer vacation!” the students called out to her as they passed, waving their little hands with the kind of excitement that only nine- or ten-year-olds can muster.

“Bye. Don’t forget to complete your homework. Don’t just keep playing,” she replied with a warm smile, occasionally patting the students on the head.

Niribili, in her late 20s, mostly kept to herself. Her world revolved around her family and the school, especially her students.

Her circle of friends was limited. Apart from a handful of friends from her neighbourhood and school, she had a few Facebook acquaintances, and even if she counted both online and offline friends, the number still might not cross double digits.

Among all the online strangers, Vedant was the only person whose profile truly attracted and impressed her. It became her habit to scroll through his profile at least once a day.

From his social-media presence, Vedant seemed no-nonsense. He seldom posted trivial content or indulged in showmanship. Aside from a few silhouettes of him smoking a cigarette or holding a can of beer, his updates mainly focused on food and occasional social commentary, usually delivered through satire.

Beyond random likes on each other’s posts, Vedant and Niribili rarely interacted.

It was a simple comment Vedant left on a monsoon-misted photograph of an old railway station—posted on a popular Guwahati photography page—that caught Niribili’s attention.

Hundreds of people had written the usual things like “Beautiful,” “Awesome,” and “Nice click.”

But Niribili found Vedant’s comment different and the most striking.

“Some places don’t become lonely because people leave. They become lonely because memories refuse to,” the comment read, catching Niribili’s attention.

She then browsed his profile to learn more about him, and from then on, checking his profile at least once a day became her ritual.

His profile picture had been taken from his right side, showing him in right profile as he rested under a tree beside a gushing stream, with river stones and pebbles half-submerged in the water. A lush green jungle stood on the opposite bank, where a few campers were setting up their tents. He was leaning back against the tree, smoking a cigarette and holding a beer can, with a few more lying beside him in a polythene bag. His hair was brushed back, and he had stubble. He wore faded jeans, a blue T-shirt, and black sneakers. Nothing about his clothes was flashy.

She liked his photograph, and a few days later he liked one of her profile photographs in return, and thus began their exchange of likes. This was their only interaction.

Meanwhile, after the students left, the teachers got busy in the staffroom arranging things and making lesson plans in advance for after the summer vacation.

The school’s principal was particular about many things. Her rule was that no staff member should come to the school during the holidays. She also did not approve of any summer camps at the school. She came to the school every alternate day to check the premises. The security guard lived beside the school campus with his family, and his only duty was to guard the school when it was closed.

After finishing their work and attending a light-hearted get-together, the teachers left, all heaving a sigh of relief.

Her home was two kilometres from the school, and Niribili always walked home after school. That day, however, she was not alone. Her colleague Nayana was also going to her place after being invited for lunch.

“Niri, I always wanted to ask you something… Why do you still keep this basic phone?”

Niribili paused, looked at Nayana out of the corner of her right eye, and smiled.

“Because I am okay with this dumbphone.”

“Still… I mean, phones these days come with so many features. Don’t you ever feel the urge to use those features?”

Niribili heaved a deep sigh and said, “Well, actually, no. I use the phone to communicate, and this phone serves my purpose.”

“But smartphones are not just for talking. Smartphones are also used for chatting, photography, videos and many other things.”

“You’re right, but honestly speaking, I am not interested in shooting photos and videos on phones. I find the features and apps convoluted. My cousin has several cameras, and when I need to take a photograph, I either borrow one from him, or he takes the photograph for me. And for the official stuff, I am happy to use the smartphone that our principal has provided.”

Nayana looked at her for a moment, amused.

“Hmmm… You are different then, I have to admit.”

Niribili smiled at Nayana, and they continued their walk home, talking about random stuff.

Niribili lived with her parents, grandparents, her twin sisters, her uncle and his family, and two pet dogs—Bagh (male) and Devi (female).

It was the second week of vacation. Bringing respite from the scorching heat, the sky began pouring by late afternoon. Niribili loved the rain. She went out to the balcony and felt it sprinkle on her face.

Without her knowing, her cousin Phatik clicked a few photographs of her while she was lost in herself, enjoying the rain.

“Gorgeous. Sis, look at this,” he called out to Niribili, catching her by surprise, as he walked towards her to show her the photographs he had just clicked.

“Arey waah!”

“You like it?”

“Of course I do. These are beautiful.”

“Wait, I’ll email it to you.”

“Dada, I always say, you should have been a professional photographer and not an architect.”

“Arey naah. I don’t click for money. And honestly, I would have been a bad photographer if I’d taken it as my profession. Passion brings out the best in me.”

“Hmm.”

“By the way, where are the two devils?”

“Who? Bagh and Devi?”

“Bagh and Devi are gems, not devils!”

Niribili looked at her cousin and smiled knowingly.

“Oh! You mean Pahari and Papori? Where else? Zumba classes.”

“Zumba… humba… rumba… bumba.”

The duo laughed their hearts out.

“Do you want to have your favourite ginger tea with some munchy and fluffy malpoas?” Niribili asked after a moment.

“Malpoas? Great! Bring the tea in a large cup, then.”

“Cool. You sit. I am coming with the tea and the malpoas,” Niribili said and vanished into the kitchen and returned after fifteen minutes with a plateful of hot malpoas and two cups of ginger tea.

“Are you sure you always wanted to be an architect and not a photographer?” Niribili asked Phatik again during their tea party.

“Absolutely! Yes, I love photography, and maybe someday I might want to shoot a documentary or even a film, but right now, I’m only interested in designing and planning others’ houses. Let photography remain my hobby only.”

“You have a lot of photography gear for a passion, bro.”

“Hahaha… well, that’s why it is called passion, I suppose,” Phatik said with a wink.

“By the way, I have mailed you the photographs. And thanks for the tea. I really needed it. Chal, gotta go now,” he quickly added and left.

Niribili collected the used cups and the plate, put them in the kitchen sink and locked herself in her room. She turned on her desktop, logged into her email, and downloaded the photographs Phatik had emailed her.

She carefully looked at them and uploaded one as her Facebook profile photo.

Sometimes the best memories are made when you least expect them—she captioned it.

She stared at the photo for a while, and then opened Vedant’s profile to see what new stuff he had posted that day when a notification popped up. She opened it. It was Vedant’s comment on the photo.

“Least expected memories always have a lasting impression,” he wrote.

She chuckled to herself and liked the comment.

She wrote a reply, and then deleted it. She wrote another and then deleted it again.

As she tried to write the reply for the third time, she noticed a message in her inbox. It was Vedant’s.

Vedant: Hi. Hope you are doing fine. The photograph is beautifully framed.

She read the message longer than usual, then replied, “Thanks a ton.”

And that was it. There was no further messaging.

But that brief exchange laid the foundation for their future conversations.

A couple of days later, when Niribili saw Vedant online, she wrote to him:

Niribili: Hi Vedant. This is Niribili. Hope you are doing fine.

After a minute, he replied.

Vedant: Greetings, Niribili. I am doing fine. What about you?

Niribili: I am doing great. Well, to be honest, I am blank, and I don’t know what a stranger usually asks another stranger to initiate a conversation.

Vedant: Well, you have already initiated one. Okay, fine. Let me get formal. My name is Vedant. I live in Guwahati. I am an HR professional. I love cooking, video games and movies. I live with my parents and my younger brother. I have a pet dog. Her name is Laila.

Niribili: It sounds like an HR professional giving an HR interview. I also live in Guwahati. I am from Narengi Tiniali. Where in Guwahati are you from, exactly? I live with my parents, twin sisters, uncle and his family, and my two pets—Bagh and Devi.

Vedant: I am from Zoo Road Tiniali. Bagh? Devi? What are they? Leopards?

Niribili: No. No. Golden Retrievers. So what is your Laila?

Vedant: A Labrador. And what do you do?

Niribili: I am a teacher. I teach at Horizon Academy. I am the class teacher of Class IV (A). As for hobbies, I like reading books and travelling. It seems we haven’t read each other’s bios on Facebook yet!

Vedant: Haha! I thought the same! That’s why you use proper language instead of internet lingua franca in chats!

Niribili: It is nothing like that. I am just not used to the shortcuts.

Vedant: Well, same here! I fail to understand how abbreviated text messages can convey the entire feeling.

Niribili: Glad! At least someone understood the pain! By the way, you have a unique name—Vedant.

Vedant: Really? Well, thanks! Actually, my real name is Bedanta. I use Vedant only for my Facebook 🙂

Niribili: Okay. Now I get it.

Vedant: And what about you? What is the secret behind this absolutely Asomiya name?

Niribili: My grandma gave me this name. Niribili was my great-grandma’s name.

Vedant: Legacy?

Niribili: You can call it that.

Vedant: By the way, isn’t the meaning of your name solitude? Are you like the meaning of your name?

Niribili: I don’t think so; I am a solitude-loving person. Well, I don’t enjoy chaos and crowds… so in that sense, maybe I somewhat mirror my name in real life.

Vedant: Hmmm! Thoughtful. You seem calm about almost everything, don’t you?

Niribili: How do I answer that now 🙄🙄? By the way, since you have two names, what should I call you? Vedant or Bedanta?

Vedant: Friends call me Bedni.

So, this first conversation marked the beginning of one of the least anticipated friendships.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, but their conversations stayed confined to Facebook Messenger.

They spoke about everything. They discussed books they never finished. They talked about movies they loved and songs they enjoyed that had stayed with them since childhood.

Gradually, without Niribili even realising it, Vedant became a far more important part of her life than she had expected. Subconsciously, she was deeply attracted to him. Though they never met or spoke over the phone, she felt his presence almost all the time. When they chatted, an imaginary voice echoed in her mind, reading his messages aloud, and she imagined his real voice would sound like the one in her head. He made her feel special; she felt it!

Since Facebook wasn’t at her fingertips 24/7, they decided to chat at a fixed time every other day.

During their conversations, she learned about Vedant’s love for cooking, his craze for good drinks, and his attraction to stylish watches.

The change was not merely outward. Something within her began to change too, and gradually, it started to show.

After the vacation ended and school reopened, her colleagues noticed the changes, especially Nayana.

One day, after school, she asked in a light-hearted, teasing tone.

“Niri, you have changed a lot in the last month. The Niribili before vacation was very different from the one after. Ah… well, you seem a lot more vibrant. Any good news?”

Niribili almost blushed, losing her composure.

“Err… nothing like that. Just… well, I felt I was perhaps a little too protective of myself. Learning to loosen up a bit.”

“Is it because of something? Aum… or… someone?”

Niribili struggled to contain her excitement, but somehow managed not to give herself away.

“Arey, no yaar. Not someone. Just… the summer vacation rejuvenated me, perhaps!”

Nayana did not press further. She just looked at the almost-blushing Niribili and smiled.

As time went by, Vedant and Niribili’s alternate-day chatting became a daily affair. It began with “Good Mornings” and ended well past midnight. She logged on to Facebook once in the morning after waking up, and again after dinner.

All the stories she had heard about boys asking for numbers and nudes after becoming friendly with a girl seemed like fables to her. In their eight months or so of digital friendship, Vedant had neither asked for her number nor even requested a casual selfie—let alone nudes.

Though they lived in the same city and within ten kilometres of each other, he never asked her out, and she never asked him if they could meet someday. She was happy with this platonic digital friendship.

Everything was going fine until one day.

It was a Sunday, and on Sundays they chatted more than usual. She knew Vedant loved his weekends, so on Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays, they didn’t chat in the evening. On Sundays, they chatted for an hour in the morning before he got busy cooking the Sunday lunch. She didn’t complain, as she also had a lot to do on Sundays.

“Papori, is your Facebook working?” Niribili asked her younger sister as she stepped out of her room. Papori was busy with her phone on the small verandah-balcony just outside her room.

“Ha? What?”

“I asked, is your Facebook working? I am unable to open mine. I am repeatedly getting an error message.”

“Let me check. No, Ba, not working.”

Before she could ask anything else, Pahari, who was playing with Bagh and Devi nearby, said, “How can it work? There has been a global outage of Facebook.”

“Global outage? When?” Niribili almost shouted.

“According to the news, it hit this morning at around 8 a.m., and the outage should be rectified within the day. Facebook has issued a statement.”

Niribili looked blankly at Pahari. Niribili looked blankly at Pahari. A strange restlessness tightened inside her.

“Oh! Okay. Thanks.”

“Any problem, siso?”

“Hmm! Haa, nothing. You carry on. I’ll go and take a nap.”

She kept trying to log on to Facebook, but every attempt ended with the same error. From morning until late at night, she checked again and again, until she finally fell asleep at her study table, exhausted.

She woke up at the first stroke of dawn the next day, and the first thing she did was check Facebook. She was left disappointed again!

Later, while dressing for school, she paused in front of the mirror to apply some light makeup. She wore a sky-blue blouse and a white petticoat, and her hair was down. She stood in front of her dressing table mirror and looked at herself from top to bottom, caressed her long black hair, applied the best lipstick and perfume from her collection, and smiled.

She looked at the desktop over her shoulder once again and thought for a moment. She then shook her head, put on the navy-blue saree and left for school.

At school, all her efforts not to look disturbed seemed to have failed, as every second person asked her the same question—What’s wrong, Niribili? Is everything okay? You seem stressed. She dodged the question every time, though not very convincingly.

The day passed, and the final bell rang. Along with the other teachers, Niribili walked out of the building, taking the slowest steps of her five-year teaching career.

After leaving the building, Niribili had just reached the front exit when Nayana, already standing there, asked again if she was all right.

“Niri, what’s wrong? You seem to be disturbed. Is everything okay?”

She looked at her for a while, let out a deep sigh, and told her everything that had been going on in her life—about Vedant, about their chats, and about the Facebook outage that had eventually led to this restlessness.

Nayana listened silently and patiently, without interrupting. After Niribili finished, she said in a reassuring tone, “Hmm… That’s what has been bothering you. Facebook has indeed been down since yesterday. Don’t worry, it will be up soon.”

“Hmmm?”

“So, you both still haven’t shared your numbers?”

“No. To be honest, we never felt the need to do so.”

“Well… that’s your personal choice. But in this fast-paced world, I don’t think sharing a number is a big deal. After all, you both have been chatting on Facebook long enough to trust each other.”

“Hmm… I guess you are right.”

“Now cheer up, bondhu. When Facebook is back again… Wait, let me check if the issue has been resolved or not.” Nayana stopped midway and opened the Facebook app on her phone.

“There, it is back again. Now smile,” she said, showing the app to Niribili.

Niribili looked at the phone and let out a small but warm smile, reassured by the news. Her expression said it all.

“I think you should take a rickshaw today and reach home as soon as possible. Skip your walk home today,” Nayana said, patting her softly on the back.

Niribili nodded in affirmation and took a rickshaw home.

She did not waste a second after reaching home. She dashed to her room, turned on her computer, logged into her Facebook account, and texted Vedant.

Niribili: Hey, how are you? Hope all’s good at your end. This FB thing! This outage. I don’t see you online. Perhaps you are busy. Do reply when you are online.

She waited a few minutes to see if he replied. When she got no reply, she got up from her chair, freshened up, and slipped into comfortable baggy pyjamas and a loose, oversized T-shirt.

She checked Messenger again. Still no reply. He didn’t reply until around 7 p.m.

Vedant: Hey, I am good. What about you? All good? Yeah, the Facebook outage was pretty funny, honestly. I had gone on a trip to Sonapur for an overnight stay at a friend’s place. My phone’s battery drained, and none of their chargers was compatible with my phone. Had a wonderful time there. Reached home a while back. The phone is partly charged now. That’s why I took time to reply.

…and their chats got back on track.

Though Niribili chatted as if nothing had happened, Nayana’s words still played on her mind.

“Ask for his number. Share your number,” a voice inside her kept insisting. After resisting the temptation and thinking it through, she finally asked if they could share numbers.

Vedant: Numbers? But… why?

Niribili: Well… Aaa… Say another outage happens tomorrow and lasts for weeks. We might become strangers again! If we have our numbers, we can at least chat through SMS or maybe have an occasional call. But only if that is okay with you.

Vedant: Hmm… You have a point. I hope it won’t become an issue later on.

Niribili: Issue? Like what?

Vedant: I don’t know. I just asked.

Niribili: Don’t worry. Well, that’s what I should be asking you, since I asked for the number first. As a girl, I have no issue sharing my number.

Vedant: Wow! That’s something unlike you… Anyway, my number is…

…And after sharing their numbers, the chats also switched to SMS. Their Facebook Messenger chats did not stop. They mostly chatted through SMS while she was at school or in bed after dinner.

Though their SMS chats were far fewer than their Facebook chats, the number of SMSes sometimes exceeded the free daily limit. Even then, neither initiated the first call. Their friendship, now eleven months old, remained mostly confined to chats.

It was her birthday month, and Niribili finally decided to gift herself a smartphone. To find the best phone, she asked Vedant one day during their daily chat.

Niribili: I have decided to gift myself a smartphone for my birthday this time. Could you suggest what brand I should go for? I have no idea about smartphones.

Vedant: Smartphone? What made you think of buying one all of a sudden?

Niribili: FOMO perhaps!

Vedant: FOMO? And you? Asorit kotha! Strange!

Niribili: Why do you find it strange?

Vedant: Well, you having FOMO is a bit strange for me.

Niribili: Oh, come on! Now please suggest a good smartphone within Rs 25,000… At most Rs 30,000.

Vedant: That’s a lot! What do you need the smartphone specifically for?

Niribili: Mainly for photography. And a faster OS so it doesn’t hang. Being my first purchase, I want the best in this range.

Vedant: Hmmm…

…and based on her specifications, Vedant suggested a few brands and their latest models, along with their camera and OS specs.

After a lot of discussion, she finally zeroed in on one phone with the best camera quality within her budget. Even though it wasn’t the brand’s flagship model, it was far better than some of the top models from rival companies.

Her birthday came. Everyone wished her a happy birthday. He wished her a happy birthday too, and they chatted all night. Despite chatting for almost the entire day, they never ran out of topics. Even after Niribili got her smartphone, they kept their chats on SMS and Facebook Messenger—no calls, just occasional WhatsApp chats.

Another month passed, and then his birthday came.

Niribili: Hey, your birthday is next week. What are your plans this time? You said last year was ruined by some unforeseen events. I hope everything goes well this time.

Vedant: Yeah! Last year was a disaster. This year I am gonna make up for the loss. Shall drink some pure Scotch, have some pork ribs and… Well, let me see. Why, do you have any surprise in store for me? 🤨

When she read the message, she felt a strange feeling. She did not reply immediately. She kept staring at the text a little longer than usual. She then smiled to herself.

Niribili: Well, guess what? I might just surprise you with a little gift 😉

Vedant: Heh! Seriously? Seems like you might be trying to make up for last year’s disaster!

Niribili: Ummm… Maybe…

For the next few days, she was preoccupied with one thought—the surprise gift for him. Though she had already decided what to give him and felt sure he would like it, a few lingering reservations, however, kept making her reconsider.

Their usual chats continued, and in between, Vedant repeatedly tried to coax the surprise out of her. Niribili, however, proved to be a hard nut to crack.

“Are you sure?” A voice inside her asked the night before Vedant’s birthday as Niribili stood in front of her dressing-table mirror, dressed in a beautiful short blue kurta and jeans, her hair down, and her makeup neat and clean.

“Are you sure you want to do this? Do you think he is going to like it?” the voice shouted once again.

“Why not? Why wouldn’t he? Even if he has not expressed it, he likes me, and I strongly feel he wants me,” she replied to herself aloud, her eyes closed, and her expression relaxed.

“Fine!” the voice replied.

After her inner storm passed, she clicked some normal, non-sensual, non-explicit selfies. After her private photo session, she looked at the pictures and smiled.

“He is going to be surprised by this surprise!” she told herself.

On his birthday, exactly at midnight, she called him—the first call after chatting with him for a little more than a year.

Her heart raced when he answered, “Hello.” His voice was huskier than she had imagined, and hearing it unsettled her pleasantly.

“Happy birthday. Have a wonderful day ahead. Wish you the best in everything.”

“Thanks… Thanks a ton. Whoa! I… I wasn’t expecting the call. Wa… a… wait a minute! Is this the surprise you were referring to? A beautiful surprise indeed!”

“Aummm… well, there might be something more!”

“More? Whoa! What’s that?”

“Take a breather, birthday boy.”

This made him burst out laughing, and they talked for a while before he ended the call, saying numerous people were calling and he needed to take them.

After hanging up, she opened WhatsApp, went to his chat, selected two of the best selfies she had taken, and sent them to him.

“I was wondering what special gift I could give you on your birthday, and then I thought maybe a little surprise would be better than anything I could buy. 😊 So these are just for you. Keep them to yourself, okay? Happy birthday once again. I hope this brings a smile to your face and makes your day just a little more special. ❤”

She waited for his reply. The double ticks confirmed the message was delivered, but they didn’t turn blue. She waited and waited until she fell asleep.

The next morning, she woke up at 4:30 a.m. and immediately opened WhatsApp to see if he had replied.

He had.

Vedant: The photographs were beautiful. Thanks. But I did not understand why you sent them to me in the first place. I did not ask for them! Or did I? Did you ever feel I was looking for ways to get your selfies? Honestly speaking, I don’t know what I should write. I mean, I am grateful you trust me, and maybe I have done something to earn it. But still… somewhere, this does not feel right. Well, there is nothing wrong with friends sharing selfies, but… I do not know… I am unable to express myself in words, and I shall never be able to do it either over the phone or through voice notes, and I am not sure if we should meet in person or not. Perhaps I am making a mountain out of a molehill. Perhaps this is nothing at all. Perhaps I am acting far too noble. I am unable to express myself.

The moment she read the text, her sleepiness vanished. She sat upright, suddenly wide awake.

She sat upright, rubbed her sleepy eyes and read the text once again. Her heart began to pound. Hundreds of thoughts crossed her mind. She was restless.

Wasting no time, she replied.

Niribili: Hey, I am sorry if the photographs offended or hurt you in any way. I… I never thought they wouldn’t land right. Please tell me what I can do to make it right.

She waited to see if he was awake. Much to her surprise, he was. He sent her a voice note.

“Good morning, Niri. First, I am sorry I started your morning in the worst possible way. As I wrote earlier, you did nothing wrong, and you don’t need to be sorry for anything. I just wasn’t expecting it, and when things come your way unexpectedly, sometimes you can’t process them immediately. Honestly speaking, I find this selfie game dangerous. What starts as an innocent display often ends up not so innocent. I just don’t want us to travel down that path,” he said in the voice note.

Niribili listened to the voice note carefully. Questions crowded her mind.

“Can you be clearer? I am not able to make head or tail of what you’re saying,” she replied.

“Okay. Let me be straight and direct. See, today you willingly sent me a selfie without me asking. From here on, things could take a different turn, and this selfie game could grow. You’ll ask for mine, and… aah, leave it. What if this selfie game changes everything?”

The voice note left Niribili confused.

“Change? Dangerous? I have not understood a word you are trying to express.”

“I know I am bad with spoken words. All I can say is that you need to know a lot more about me. If you are free, can we meet tomorrow at 4:30 pm at the Jew’s Café in Rajgarh? Perhaps the meeting in person will clear things up!”

Somewhere deep down, she had always wanted to meet him, and under different circumstances, his invitation would have thrilled her. But his reaction to the selfies dampened her excitement. Nevertheless, she agreed to meet him the next day.

After getting confirmation, Vedant said he would be sitting at the corner table opposite the entrance.

“You can spot me wearing a black shirt and a pair of blue jeans. Bye, then. See you tomorrow. I’ll be waiting for you there. Let’s not talk any further today,” he replied in the final voice note for the day.

Reluctantly, Niribili agreed to the meeting. She wanted to talk it through right then, not wait until the next day.

Though she tried to sound normal, she wasn’t. It brought back memories of the day the Facebook outage hit.

“Just a few more hours. Calm down, calm down. Fooooh!” She repeated in her mind countless times.

The next day, she took a half-day off from school. After getting home by 12:30 p.m., she took a long, warm bath and dressed in a neatly ironed white kurta and a long navy-blue skirt. She chose heavy black metal earrings with a matching bracelet, applied maroon lipstick, heavy kajal and a light blush, and finished with her favourite perfume. She wanted to look her best.

By the time she reached the café, it was buzzing with customers. She looked around for the corner table opposite the entrance and spotted a man sitting with his back to her. She walked over and called his name softly.

He turned and smiled.

Niribili’s smile disappeared.

“Hey, good afternoon,” he said, extending his hand.

She took it almost mechanically. Her eyes remained fixed on his face.

“What? Shocked?” Vedant asked, watching her expression.

She did not answer. For several seconds, she simply stood there, trying to reconcile the man before her with the face she had known for more than a year. Only when Vedant spoke again did she seem to realise that she was still standing. She pulled out the chair opposite him and sat down.

“So, what do you want to have? Tea, coffee, or something else?” he asked as he called the waiter.

She didn’t answer, still looking at his face without flinching.

“Niri, now please stop giving me that queer look. It makes me feel uneasy. I understand what you might be thinking. I know you must have a lot of questions right now. Hmm… I’ll tell you, but before that, tell me what you want to have?”

“Orange juice,” she replied softly.

After ordering a glass of orange juice for her, a cup of black coffee for himself, and some light snacks, he turned to her again, smiling his brightest smile.

“So… ask… what’s drumming in your head? You want to know why the Vedant from Facebook looks so different from the real-life Vedant, don’t you?”

She was still silent. She was still silent, but the questions in her eyes were unmistakable.

Vedant heaved a deep sigh and began his story.

“It was about four years ago when I was not the Vedant whom you have known through Facebook,” he began.

“I was a very different person then. I was reckless with relationships. I enjoyed attention. I enjoyed being desired, and I rarely stopped to think about what my actions might mean to the other person. I was a charmer; you could say I was a philanderer who could charm any woman easily, and for a long time I mistook that ability for something worth being proud of.”

He paused as their order arrived. After the waiter left, he slid the glass of orange juice towards her.

“So, are you going to remain silent or speak your mind?”

She did not reply. She pulled the glass towards herself and took a slow sip.

“Well then, let me continue.”

He leaned back slightly and looked down at the table.

“Things were going fine until I met a nineteen-year-old college student. We met on a dating app and started seeing each other. It was a messy relationship. What began casually soon became intense. We met, hooked up, and every time we were together, we left wanting more. When we couldn’t meet, we turned to sexting. The physical attraction between us kept growing.”

He stopped for a moment.

“Perhaps I should have stopped when she became an obsession. I thought about it once or twice, but each time I decided to go with the flow. Somewhere, I think I already knew that what we were doing wasn’t healthy. I just didn’t want to listen to that part of myself.”

For the first time since sitting down, Niribili’s expression changed slightly.

Vedant continued.

“One evening, I was at my regular pan shop buying cigarettes. A boy came towards me and called my name. I turned around, and before I could understand what was happening, he threw acid on my face.”

His voice stayed steady, but his right-hand fingers tightened slowly around the coffee cup.

“There was no warning. No confrontation. Nothing. One moment I was standing there, and the next I felt as though my entire face had caught fire.”

He lowered his eyes.

“I screamed. I don’t remember exactly what I did after that. I remember running blindly. I remember people shouting. Someone pulled me towards a tap and kept pouring water over my face. Others called for help. After that, I remember everything only in fragments.”

He remained silent for several seconds before continuing.

“When I woke up in the hospital, several days had passed.”

Niribili did not move.

“I learned that the burns were severe. The left side of my face had suffered extensive damage, and I had permanently lost vision in my left eye. There were surgeries after that. More treatment. More hospitals. More procedures than I care to remember.”

He raised his head and looked at her.

“For a long time, I kept asking the same useless question—why me?”

He gave a faint smile, but there was no humour in it.

“For the first few days, I didn’t even know who had done it. I had seen the boy for only a second before he threw the acid, and I had never met him before. But the pan shop was in a busy area. There were people around, and a couple of them had seen him waiting there before I arrived. The shopkeeper had noticed him too.”

He paused and ran a finger slowly around the rim of his cup.

“The police came to the hospital while I was still recovering, but initially I wasn’t in any condition to tell them much. By then, though, they had already spoken to the witnesses. Someone had seen the boy running away, and from what I was later told, the police managed to identify him within a few days.”

Niribili remained silent.

“I still didn’t know who he was or why he would want to do something like that to me. Only later, when I was well enough to understand what was happening, did I learn the whole thing. He was a classmate of the girl I had been seeing. Apparently, he had been in love with her for a long time. She had rejected his advances, and when he found out about me, his jealousy turned into something much uglier.”

Vedant lowered his eyes to the coffee.

“The strange thing is, before I knew any of that, I had spent days lying in that hospital wondering who it could have been. I had treated so many relationships casually that faces kept coming back to me. Women I had hurt. People I had lied to. People whose feelings I had dismissed because I thought there would always be someone else.”

He shook his head and fell silent for a moment.

“But there was something else I eventually had to understand. I have to live with the things I actually chose to do. But nobody deserves to have acid thrown on their face. Those are two different truths, and it took me a long time to understand that.”

He paused and took a sip of coffee.

“The attack did not magically turn me into a better human being either. For quite some time, it made me worse.”

Niribili’s eyes remained fixed on him.

“I became angry. Bitter. Suspicious of everyone. Some days, I hated people simply because they could look at me normally and then look away. Some days, I refused to leave the house because I couldn’t tolerate strangers staring at me. Sometimes people stared out of curiosity. Sometimes out of pity. Sometimes they tried very hard not to stare, which somehow made it worse.”

He rubbed his thumb slowly along the cup’s side.

“And then… came the rejections.”

His voice softened.

“Women who might once have found me attractive avoided looking at my face. Some were polite. Some were cruel. Some disappeared after seeing me. I cannot blame all of them. Attraction cannot be forced. But after a while, every rejection started confirming something I had already begun telling myself—that whatever life I had before was over.”

He paused and heaved a deep sigh.

“I had too much time alone. Too much time to think about the kind of person I had been when everything came easily to me. I started remembering conversations I had forgotten, women I had treated casually, people whose feelings I had dismissed because I knew there would always be someone else.”

He looked at Niribili again.

“But when I began talking to you, I realised this was different. We chatted about almost everything, and whatever was growing between us felt nothing like my past relationships. I don’t know exactly when it became more than friendship for me. I only know that somewhere along the way, it did.”

He paused. He gave another faint smile.

“When we started talking, you treated me as a normal person. But when you sent me the selfies yesterday, I realised we’d crossed into different territory without even realising it. I wanted to call and tell you everything about myself, but somewhere I was afraid­—afraid of being rejected again.”

The words remained between them for a moment.

He looked directly into her eyes.

“Not merely afraid that you would reject my face. I was afraid that the moment I told you, everything between us would begin revolving around it. Either you would disappear, or you would stay because you felt sorry for me. I didn’t want either.”

He glanced briefly towards the window.

“You never spoke to me carefully because you thought I was damaged. And selfishly, I wanted to preserve that for as long as I could.”

His voice became quieter.

“So I hid behind old photographs, silhouettes, and pictures showing only my right profile. Every time I thought of telling you, I put it off. One week became one month. One month became six. Then a year had gone by, and telling you became harder because by then I was no longer only revealing my face. I was admitting that I had deliberately allowed you to believe something that wasn’t true.”

He looked down.

“That part is on me. Completely.”

He took a breath.

“I can explain why I did it, but I cannot pretend it was fair to you.”

She continued looking at him, her eyes filled with more questions than before.

Vedant gave a tired smile.

“Well… that’s all I have to say. Yeah. That’s it.”

Niribili finally looked away. She sat upright and fixed her eyes on some indistinct point across the café.

For several moments, she said nothing.

Breaking the silence, she asked, “So… you were trying to escape from reality, or…”

“Perhaps!” he replied immediately, cutting her short.

“I am not finished. So you were trying to escape from reality, or were you trying to run away from yourself?”

He opened his mouth to speak, but stopped midway.

Niribili heaved a sigh and asked in a soft but firm tone, “So… what if… what if you were not attacked that day? What if you had not been disfigured? Would we have kept chatting for this long? Or would you have continued being the charmer you had always been?”

He did not reply. He kept looking into her eyes, his expression unreadable.

She pushed the juice glass aside, took both his hands, and rubbed them warmly.

“I have changed a lot in the last year or so, and credit for a large part of it goes to you. Talking to you made me feel safe, secure and special. But…” She stopped and smiled faintly.

“Your past is your past, Bedanta. I won’t pretend that everything you just told me is easy to hear. It isn’t. Perhaps when I go home tonight, I will have a hundred questions running through my mind. But this…” She looked at his face for a moment. “This is not one of them.”

Vedant remained silent.

“I didn’t fall for your face. In fact, I never really knew what you looked like. I fell for the man who waited for me every night on the other side of a screen. I liked the man who never asked me for a photograph, never asked me for anything I wasn’t ready to give, never tried to take advantage of the fact that I trusted him.”

“So no, I am not going to walk away because you look different from the photographs. If that is what you were afraid of, you didn’t have to be.”

For the first time since she had entered the café, something in Vedant’s expression seemed to relax.

Niribili noticed, but gave no sign.

“There is just one thing I want to ask you.”

“Ask.”

She remained silent for a few seconds.

“What if…”

Vedant waited.

“What if tomorrow you wake up and all this is gone?”

He frowned.

“Maney? What do you mean?”

“The scars. Your damaged eye. Everything.”

He continued looking at her, puzzled.

“What if some doctor somewhere tells you there is a treatment? A medical miracle, perhaps. What if you get your old face back? Your eyesight comes back. You look into the mirror one morning, and the Bedanta looking back at you is the man you were four years ago.”

She paused.

“What if people stop staring?”

His faint smile slowly disappeared.

“What if women start noticing you again?”

Neither of them moved.

“What if the rejections stop?”

Her thumbs, which had been gently rubbing his palms, became still.

“And what if, suddenly, you have choices again, Bedanta? All those choices you once had.”

He stared at her.

Niribili held his gaze.

“I know the man you became after life took those choices away from you.”

She paused. When she spoke again, her voice was softer.

“But what if life gives them all back?”

Vedant said nothing.

Niribili looked into his eyes for a long moment.

“And then, Bedanta… what if you are asked to choose again?”

His fingers became still beneath hers.

She tightened her hold on his hands.

“Will you still choose to be the man sitting in front of me today?”

Somewhere behind the counter, the coffee machine hissed, cups clinked against saucers, and conversations rose and fell around them. But at their corner table, the question sat between them like an untouched cup of coffee, slowly turning cold.

~~~~The End~~~~

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