Abhiman turned and gave the old man a piercing look. It wasn't a glare filled with anger, nor was it one of affection—it was simply a look that carried weight, one that held an unspoken command. It was enough to make the old man fall silent.
The elderly man sighed, already aware of the truth buried deep in his heart. A normal, loving family was an impossibility for them. Their bonds were not built on warm embraces or affectionate words, yet when trouble knocked at their door, they stood together like an unshakable wall. There was no resentment among them, but neither were there grand displays of love.
Even so, a quiet wish lingered within the old man's heart. One day, before he closed his eyes forever, he hoped to see a family that laughed together, that celebrated joy without restraint—a family that was whole in the truest sense.
As these thoughts swirled in his mind, Mihir, who had been watching the scene unfold, had already sent a helper to fetch Drishti. By the time she arrived, the old man had started nagging Vansh and Abhiman to hug each other—a gesture that felt almost alien between them.
Drishti, who had just entered, froze on the spot. She stood there, rooted in place, silently observing the scene in front of her. It was rare to see such a thing, even if it was forced.
Mihir was the first to notice her hesitation. With a knowing smile, he said, "Drishti, this is your uncle. Take his blessings and pay your respects."
Hearing Mihir's words, Drishti stepped forward, bending down slightly in a traditional gesture of respect. But instead of touching Abhiman's feet in the usual way, she lifted her hand and smeared bright colors across his face. "Happy Holi," she said with a soft chuckle, breaking the tense atmosphere.
For a moment, Abhiman seemed taken aback, but then, without a word, he followed suit. He dipped his fingers into a plate of powdered color and gently applied it to her cheeks, acknowledging her playful gesture.
Next, Drishti turned to the old man, her hands carefully dusted in hues of pink and yellow. She reached out, applying the colors to his wrinkled face with gentle strokes. The old man, who rarely expressed emotions, simply placed a hand on her head in silent acknowledgment. It was a small gesture, but for those who knew him, it spoke volumes.
Abhiman observed the exchange, his eyes momentarily lingering on Drishti before he gave his grandfather a slight nod. As if on cue, his phone rang, cutting through the moment. Without hesitation, he attended the call and walked away, leaving behind a scene that was as rare as it was fleeting.
The old man watched his retreating figure before letting out a deep sigh. He felt something shift within him, something subtle yet powerful. Perhaps, after all these years, his family was finally falling into place. Maybe not in the way he had once imagined, but in a way that was uniquely theirs.
And that was enough.
The Holi Celebration Begins
The Holi function was in full swing, the atmosphere electric with laughter, music, and the vibrant explosion of colors in the air. At the center of the event stood a massive dance floor, its wooden panels dusted in a fine layer of powdered hues from enthusiastic revelers.
Groups of girls had already taken over the floor, their movements fluid and captivating as they showcased their dance skills. Some danced for the sheer love of music, losing themselves in the rhythm, while others had a different agenda—flirting subtly with wealthy onlookers, hoping to catch the eye of an affluent admirer.
And some even succeeded.
But what they failed to realize was that these victories were fleeting—mere moments of satisfaction, not an ultimate conquest. The dance floor was a battlefield of different kinds, where some fought for attention, while others danced to forget their worries.
Amidst the swirling chaos, Tia's voice rang out like a clarion call.
"Guys, let's rock the dance floor!" she shouted, her excitement contagious.
A chorus of enthusiastic cheers erupted in response.
"YES!" they shouted in unison.
"Woohoo!" someone yelled, spinning into the crowd.
With that, the group rushed toward the dance floor, ready to lose themselves in the celebration, in the music, in the madness that was Holi.
And for a while, under the canopy of colors and laughter, nothing else mattered.