A man stood anxiously outside the ICU ward of a hospital, his face etched with worry.
"My name is Arjun. You might be wondering why I'm here or why I look so troubled."
Inside that room lay someone special—someone who was the very reason for his existence.
"My life has been nothing short of a movie, a blend of many genres—romance, drama, and tragedy."
Five Years Ago
It all began on a regular evening as I was driving home from work. I stopped at a traffic signal and, through the window of a bus, I saw her—a woman whose beauty could rival Cleopatra’s. Even though I had never seen the real Cleopatra, I was certain her beauty would be just as legendary. But there was something missing—her smile.
She looked awfully sad, and I couldn't help but wonder why. Before I could think further, the traffic light turned green, and the bus disappeared from sight.
For the next few days, I returned to the same spot at the same time, hoping to see her again. On the third day, fate finally favored me—I spotted her once more. Determined not to miss my chance, I parked my bike and boarded the bus.
The bus was crowded, and the seat next to her was already occupied. I politely asked the woman sitting beside her if I could take the seat, but she ignored me. Desperate, I even tried bribing her—first with 100 rupees, then 200, then 500, and finally, at 1,000 rupees, she agreed. Without hesitation, she took the money and got off at the next stop.
Yes, I had just lost 1,000 rupees for no reason.
Finally, I sat beside the mysterious woman. A quick glance at her attire and accessories told me she was a working professional. Then, I saw her company ID—her name was Meera.
I turned to her and said, "Hi, I'm Arjun."
She looked at me skeptically. "Arjun who?"
I smiled. "I'm a software developer. I used to work at your company a while ago. Just thought of introducing myself."
Her guarded expression remained. When I asked for her name, she hesitated. "I don't share my name with strangers," she replied.
Sensing her discomfort, I decided to stay quiet for a while. Then, after a few moments, I softly said, "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable."
I wanted to leave, but not without leaving an impression.
"A precious metal holds no value if it doesn’t shine. Likewise, a face as beautiful as a diamond is dull without a smile. So keep smiling."
With that, I stood up and got off at the next stop. As the bus moved away, I noticed her glance back at me before turning away.
A Game of Fate
For the next two days, I didn’t take the bus. On the third day, as I stood at the stop, the same woman who had tricked me into paying for her seat saw me. Expecting another bribe, she offered me a seat again. I declined, and she left, grumbling in annoyance.
Meanwhile, Meera noticed me. She seemed pleased to see me again.
As the journey continued, the woman beside her got off, leaving the seat empty. Meera glanced at me, but I pretended not to notice. Just as another girl took the seat, I got off at the next stop.
The next day, I found the seat next to her empty again—despite the bus being crowded. I stood, pretending not to see it.
"Arjun," she called softly. "Sit."
I hesitated. "I don’t want to make you uncomfortable."
She insisted, "If that were the case, I wouldn’t have saved the seat for you."
Smiling, I sat down. She finally introduced herself, though I already knew her name. But I acted surprised.
Then, to my shock, she asked about my bike.
"Bike? I don’t have one," I lied.
She smirked. "I saw you park it before getting on the bus."
Caught red-handed, I admitted, "You got me. I was just here to admire and compliment God’s creation."
She chuckled. "Does God need compliments?"
"No beautiful thing ever thanks God for its existence," I said. "Only men appreciate his work, and their admiration keeps Him motivated to create more beauty."
She laughed.
From that day on, our conversations flowed effortlessly. We spoke for hours, both on the bus and over the phone. We became close.
One day, I learned that her birthday was approaching. I asked her out, and she agreed.
I was elated. I planned a surprise for her at a restaurant. On the day of our date, I arrived an hour early, eagerly waiting for her.
But she never came.
I called her—no response.
Disheartened, I left the restaurant. As I drove along the usual bus route, I saw something that made my heart stop.
An accident.
Multiple ambulances.
Police vehicles.
I rushed toward the wreckage and saw the bus—the same bus Meera took every day.
Panic surged through me as I approached a police officer.
"What happened to the passengers?" I asked.
He sighed. "Fifteen people died. Twenty others are critically injured. They’ve been taken to a nearby hospital."
I ran to the hospital, my heart pounding.
And there, inside the ICU, I saw her.
Meera.
Present Day: Five Years Later
Now, five years have passed.
I stood outside the ICU once more.
A doctor walked in, followed by a group of medical students.
I stepped inside the room with them.
The doctor turned to her students and began explaining. "This patient’s name is Arjun. He has been in a coma for the past five years."
One of the students spoke up. "Doctor, what’s your name?"
She removed her mask and smiled softly.
"Meera."
Basically Arjun's consciousness told his dreams,
What really happened to Arjun?
Is any part of his story true?
