Amidst the vibrant chaos, some onlookers found themselves lost in memories. The carefree spirit of the youngsters celebrating Holi without restrictions, without hesitation, transported them to their own pasts—some to moments of joy, others to echoes of pain.
Among them stood Vansh and Karan, both caught in the tides of their thoughts, though their recollections painted very different pictures.
For Vansh, the scene before him played like an old film on fast-forward. Images flickered in his mind—his younger self, his parents, a home filled with warmth. A festival of love, where a small child squealed in delight as his parents smeared color on his cheeks, their laughter blending with the festive cheer. The memory was vivid, almost tangible, as if he could reach out and grasp that lost happiness.
But beside him, Karan's mind wandered into a different kind of past, one not painted in the vibrant hues of joy but in the muted shades of sorrow.
The colors of Holi, meant to symbolize happiness, had never been a source of celebration for him. Instead, they reminded him of a day he wished he could forget—a day when life had stripped away something precious from him.
As he watched the young revelers, another image replaced the present—a grand bungalow, a lavish Holi party thrown by the rich. The sound of laughter, clinking glasses, and music had filled the air, but he had not been a guest. He had been there as a waiter, serving drinks to the privileged, merely a shadow amidst their festivities.
And then, he had seen her.
His heartbeat had faltered when he spotted his girlfriend in the crowd, standing beside a man who introduced her to his friends as his own. Karan had felt the ground shift beneath him, disbelief crashing over him like a tidal wave.
Frozen in place, he hadn't even noticed when a young woman had accidentally bumped into him, causing the drink in his hand to spill onto her dress. It had been her fault, but he had still bowed his head, murmuring an immediate apology. Yet, no amount of words could stop what came next.
A sharp, stinging slap across his cheek.
A cascade of insults.
And then, the ultimate humiliation—she had grabbed another drink and poured it over him in front of the entire party, reducing him to nothing but an object of mockery.
People had watched. Some had murmured in sympathy. But no one had stepped forward to defend him.
Yet, it hadn't been the slap or the public embarrassment that had shattered him that day. No, the deepest wound had come from the person he had trusted most—the woman he had once believed was his world.
Lost in the depths of his memories, Karan clenched his fists as he watched the laughter around him. The colors that brought joy to others had, for him, become a reminder of the day his heart had been broken beyond repair.