Destination...Yes, you heard it right: it's the destination that most people choose before they begin their journey. But for me, I found mine along the way. Beyond just the story of my travels, this is also the story of a mystery that remains unsolved.
Bombay - Mumbai's former name - was my dream city, much like it is for countless others who aspire to become something greater within its vibrant chaos. I had often thought about going there, but the chance never arose. I grew up in a small village where the idea of a girl going out alone was almost unheard of, and I was raised with the belief that a girl carries the soul, responsibility, respect, and dignity of her family. My education was cut short after the 12th grade, so dreaming of working independently in Mumbai seemed utterly out of reach. I had made peace with that fact and tried to be content with my life - or at least I was trying to.
On August 4th, I turned eighteen. I should have been happy, but I wasn't. Why? I couldn't say. What would you feel if you realized that, from now on, you wouldn't even be allowed to dream anymore? At eighteen, my life as a bachelor had ended.Although we had the usual family celebration, one of my uncles dropped a bombshell during the festivities. His in-laws had found a suitable match for me - a rich family, no less. The boy's family name was Rahil, which was quite rare at the time. They had arranged a meeting at my uncle's in-laws' house, fearing that introducing him in our village might somehow taint the impression. All of this had already been agreed upon by my father. The question now was: how would I get there? My father was unwell, and my brother was away studying in the city. After considering every possible option, they decided to send me alone. Today, it might not seem like such a big deal, but back then, it was monumental. The thought of it made me tremble, but my father's words calmed me. "Don't be afraid, Dristi. Mumbai is not so far away - it's just a 12-hour journey."
Mumbai. My dream was suddenly within reach, just a day away. I couldn't believe it. But at what cost? Tomorrow, the old knot of my single life would be severed, only to tie another knot - one I wasn't ready for. For the first time in my life, I couldn't understand my own emotions. I was so consumed by confusion that I became emotionless.
My uncle arranged for the train tickets, and on the morning of August 6th, I found myself alone on a train, clutching my purse so tightly my knuckles were white. Everyone seemed to be watching me, but I did my best to appear normal, hiding the fact that this was my first time traveling on my own. As the train started moving again, a wave of liberation washed over me. Yes, I was scared - uncertainties about my future still lingered - but I no longer wanted to dwell on them. All I wanted was to savor the journey, free from the weight of thoughts about where the tracks of my life might lead.
At the next stop, a young boy passed by, selling tea. I hesitated for a moment but decided to buy a cup. Instantly, my mind flooded with fears. What if the tea is spiked? What if I lose consciousness? What if something terrible happens? So many questions raced through my head, each one darker than the last. But as the steam from the tea began to fade and the warmth of the cup started to dissipate, I decided to take a sip. After all, I didn't want to waste it.
As the train resumed its journey, I sat there with the hot tea in my hand, watching the landscape pass by. The train snaked through villages and tunnels, the rhythm of its motion somehow soothing. In that moment, all my worries seemed to dissolve. I was smiling without even realizing it, caught up in the simple joy of the ride, the warm tea, and the view outside the window.
At the second stop, a boy ran up and took a seat in front of me. He was panting so heavily that just watching him made me feel exhausted. After a few moments, he caught his breath, settled himself and started staring at me intently. At first, I ignored him, but it seemed his goal was to make me uncomfortable. Every girl knows the discomfort of being stared at by a strange man, but this felt different - unfamiliar, somehow. I couldn't explain why I felt this way. It was as though he was trying to communicate something without saying a word.
I endured his gaze for over an hour before frustration got the better of me. I decided to confront him. I summoned my courage, mentally rehearsed what I would say, and, as I gathered my breath, I blurted out, "Are you mad?"
That was all I could manage. My voice barely carried, but he heard me clearly and burst into laughter. He laughed for a full three minutes, and even now, I still don't understand what was so funny about my question. His laughter was contagious, though, and before I knew it, I found myself smiling too.
Oh no. How could I let this happen? How could someone like him make me smile?
When he finally stopped laughing, he realized he had to say something. He smiled and said, "See? That's what I wanted - to make you laugh. You've got a beautiful smile, and that's what I like to see. I'm not mad at you, I promise. I just figured this was your first journey, and I could tell you were scared. But you don't have to be."
I was stunned. I thought I had done a good job hiding my fear, but clearly, I hadn't. I didn't respond, and though he continued to stare at me, I eventually became accustomed to it. It no longer bothered me. Despite my father's warning not to speak to strangers, I couldn't stop myself from asking him where he was headed. He replied, "Bombay."
At that moment, I couldn't help but smile again. I caught myself quickly, though. My question had opened the door to a conversation, and he took full advantage of it. He began asking about my life - where I was from, where I was going, and why. In return, I asked about him.
His conversation wasn't filled with flattery or trivial talk like I had expected. He told me he was a college student and a full-time traveler. His father was wealthy and covered all his expenses, allowing him to live the life of his dreams. In just three years of college, he had traveled everywhere - tourist spots, hidden gems, temples, beaches, mountains - and he'd done it all by bus, car, bike, plane, even by crew. He was living the life I had only ever dreamed of.
The conversation flowed easily between us, but what bothered me was the silent judgment of the people around us. At the time, it wasn't common for a girl to chat with a strange boy, and I wondered how everyone just knew we weren't related. But we ignored them and kept talking. He told me he lived in front of the oldest church of Bombay called St. Andrew's Church located in Bandra, and though I had no idea where that was, his excitement painted a picture of something extraordinary.
As we spoke, I didn't even notice that I was halfway through my journey. Only six hours remained.
The train came to a stop at a small, disorganized station. I didn't know its name, but we had been there for more than fifteen minutes. It's strange how we never get tired while the train is moving, but as soon as it stops, exhaustion sets in, even though we're still just sitting.
We were both growing drowsy, and he suggested we get off the train for some tea. The thought terrified me. What if the train started moving while we were still on the platform? I had never caught a running train before. I didn't voice my concern, though. I simply said no.
He smiled, seemingly reading my mind. "Don't worry, I'm with you."
How did he know? His smile softened as he stared at me again, and when I became conscious of it, he quickly turned his gaze away. Somehow, his reassurance gave me the confidence I needed, and I surprised myself by agreeing to step off the train.
We stood on the platform, the warmth of the tea cup in my hands contrasting with the crisp air around us. He held his own cup but hadn't taken a sip. I couldn't help but wonder why he had even come out with me if he wasn't going to drink the tea. My curiosity got the better of me, and I asked about the cut on his head.
"Oh, just a good accident," he replied casually.
I furrowed my brow. "A good accident? How can an accident possibly be a good thing?" I asked, letting out a small, hesitant laugh, thinking he might have misspoken.
He smiled, a mix of amusement and something deeper behind his eyes. "You probably think my father is paying for all my travels, don't you? But that's not the case. Yes, I'm a college student - an MBA student, to be exact. My dad wants me to finish my studies and join him and my brothers in the family business. But I'm not made for that life. I'm a traveler, a photographer. I can't see myself wasting away in luxurious offices when the world is out there waiting to be captured through my lens."
He paused for a moment "My dad has always been against this - he never believed in what I do, even though my brothers have always supported me. But I don't blame him. It's not entirely his fault; it's the pressure of society. He's been raised to believe in stability and success through wealth, and now he's passing that belief onto the rest of my family. He wants all of us to work together, build a big business, create a picture-perfect happy family. But what he doesn't see is that in doing so, he's risking the true happiness of everyone around him."
"Two days ago, on August 4th, I had the biggest fight of my life with my father. It was the first time I ever raised my voice at him. Out of sheer anger, I broke down in tears and stormed out of the house. I had never stood up to him before, and after I left, guilt weighed on me. But I couldn't bring myself to go back, so I just ran - ran down the road, trying to outrun my emotions. When I finally decided to return, it happened right in front of my house, in front of the church, and right there, where my mom and dad were standing outside in the garden, waiting for me.
In their full view, a car hit me.
The accident was severe. But I survived. I call it a 'good accident' because it changed everything. My parents thought they were about to lose me, and the last thing they'd remember was our fight - my fight for freedom. They felt the guilt I had carried too, and yesterday, my father broke down in front of everyone. He told the whole family to follow their own paths, to do whatever they truly wanted in life. In a way, that accident gave my entire family a new beginning.
Dad realized how fleeting life is - that we shouldn't spend it living by someone else's rules, not knowing when our time will come. He thought I hated him, but that's not true."
A tear rolled down his cheek as he spoke, and I stood there, stunned. It was hard to believe that someone who could smile so easily had gone through such a life-altering event just two days ago. I didn't know what to say, my words seemed inadequate.
Just then, I noticed my train starting to move. Panic surged through me. How was I going to make it? Without thinking, I started shouting at him in a frenzy. He reacted immediately, sprinting toward the train and jumping on board. As I stumbled in pursuit, he reached back and pulled me into the moving train, saving me from being left behind."
I was breathing heavily, my heart still racing from the rush of catching the train. I couldn't count how many times I had thanked this man, but I was exhilarated. For the first time, I had experienced something so wild and unexpected. We were both laughing, giving each other high-fives for what felt like five straight minutes. People passing by kept staring at us, but after a while, we stopped caring - or more accurately, I stopped caring. It felt liberating not to worry about what anyone thought anymore.
After some time, we made our way to our seats. Once we settled in, I asked him why he was on the train instead of resting after everything he'd been through.
"Resting is a waste," he said with a shrug. "It's better to do something worthwhile before you die."
I didn't quite understand what he meant. "What do you mean?" I asked, my curiosity piqued.
"Oh, it's just philosophy," he said with a laugh. "Did I forget to mention I'm a philosophy student too? So don't take everything I say too seriously."
He smiled, but something about his words and his expression didn't quite align. There was a strange heaviness behind his light-hearted tone, but I didn't push further. After all, he was just a stranger.
After talking so much about himself, he turned the conversation toward me. He wanted to know my story. I didn't hesitate to share. My life, as I told him, was completely different from his. He had always stood up for what he wanted, fought for his freedom, while I had spent my entire life trying to be the perfect daughter, never daring to go against my father's wishes. I had never truly done anything for myself.
When I finished telling him my story, he seemed genuinely shocked. He looked at me for a moment, processing everything I'd said before he spoke.
"So, you've never left your village before? This is your first time traveling?" he asked, pausing thoughtfully. "So... did you never get the chance, or did you never want to go?"
"I always wanted to leave," I replied. "I dreamed of studying, of getting a job in the city. But no one ever let me. The only thing my father allowed was for me to learn Kathak, and that was only because my teacher came to our house for lessons. I never dared to go against my father's wishes. I've always tried to be the perfect daughter, and in the process, I lost sight of myself. I forgot who I was and what I wanted from life."
I sighed, my eyes drifting toward the window as I continued. "This train to Bombay - it's not just a journey for me. It's another path where I'm heading to fulfill my father's dream, even though it comes at the cost of losing my own identity. That's how my life is going."
When I finished, I turned to look at him. He was staring at me, deeply engrossed in my story. For the first time, I had met someone - a man, no less - who was genuinely listening to me. In my village, no one listened to women; their voices were considered threats to the fragile egos of the men. But here was this stranger, listening so intently.
I glanced around and noticed the other passengers staring too. I wondered if they were silently judging me, wondering how I could be so comfortable sharing my life with a stranger. But for once, I didn't care.
He didn't say a word, so I turned back to the window, letting the silence settle between us. After a few minutes, the train made a brief stop at a station, halting for no more than five minutes. When we started moving again, he approached me, this time holding a cup of tea. He offered it to me, and I took it without thinking. Then, he spoke.
"Have you ever thought about what it'll be like when you grow old? What if you look back on your life and realize you're not happy? And then you tell your father how his decisions complicated everything - how he's the one to blame for the life you feel was wasted? How do you think he'd feel?"
I thought for a moment before replying, "He wouldn't be happy to hear it, of course."
"Exactly," he said, leaning forward slightly. "Then why aren't you telling him now? It's good that you love your father and your family, but you can't ignore that this is your life. No one else should control it. The remote control to your life should be in your own hands. You should tell your father what you want. If he doesn't support you right away, try to convince him. If you believe you're right, you owe it to yourself to stand your ground.
"Look, it's your life - I don't have the right to interfere. But I can't stand seeing someone waste their life because of family pressure. After my accident, when my father thought I was going to die, my brother reassured him by saying, 'He only did what he wanted, whether or not you agreed with it - but he lived his life with complete satisfaction.' At that moment, my father smiled. For the first time, he was happy that I hadn't followed his wishes. I don't want you to end up with regrets later. Think about it."
His words hit me hard. I started questioning everything - my life, the way I'd been living it. Had I really wasted it all this time? How could he be so wise, so mature, at such a young age? Everything he said made sense, and I realized I needed to take control of my own life.
We were only an hour away from Bombay when he moved back to his berth, sitting quietly, watching me, waiting for me to say something. But I was too lost in thought, too confused about my next steps to respond. He must have sensed my indecision because he spoke again, softly.
"It's your one and only life. You won't get another chance to fix it."
Those words lingered in my mind, echoing. This is my only life. I had made my decision. I didn't say anything, but I smiled at him, and he smiled back, understanding that I had found my clarity. He started packing his things, knowing we were almost at our destination. I followed suit, packing my own belongings as we neared Bombay.
When the train finally arrived at the station, we stood for a moment, just looking at each other. There was something between us, an unspoken connection, as if fate had brought him into my life at the precise moment I needed him most. He had come out of nowhere and, in just a few hours, had changed the biggest decision of my life.
Lost in that thought, we suddenly realized everyone else was leaving the train. We grabbed our bags and followed suit. As we stepped off the train, I saw my uncle approaching from a distance. I stood frozen, watching him draw nearer, but I couldn't bring myself to move.
"So, we're here. Our destination," he said softly. "From here, our paths will part. I hope you'll be able to do whatever you truly want."
"Hmmm? I hope so," I replied, turning away from him. I couldn't look at him any longer - his eyes, so calm, so full of meaning. There was something different in them, something I couldn't quite explain.
"By the way, my name is Kabir," I heard him say. The realization hit me - I hadn't even asked his name. Instinctively, I turned to where his voice came from, but he was already at a distance, walking away. Without thinking, I called out, "Goodbye, Kabir!"
He stopped, turning briefly to face me, his expression unreadable. "Tell my father I never hated him. I always loved him. Please... tell him this for me." And with that, he started walking again, disappearing into the crowd.
I stood there, frozen, watching him leave, my mind buzzing with unanswered questions. What did he mean? Why would I tell his father? Why isn't he telling him himself? My heart raced as the questions piled up, but before I could act, he was gone. Kabir was gone.
Just then, my uncle arrived. I greeted him mechanically, my mind still on Kabir's parting words. My uncle led me to his home, and after an hour, I found myself in the familiarity of his living room. Soon, my father called to check if I had arrived safely. As they spoke, the conversation drifted to Rahil - about how he was arriving the next day, what food would be served, how the house would be decorated, and most importantly, how I was expected to behave in front of his family.
The mounting pressure from these conversations became too much to bear. I quietly slipped away to my room, seeking refuge from it all. After freshening up, I sat on the bed, thoughts of Kabir swirling in my mind. His tear-filled eyes haunted me. Why was he crying? My head throbbed with the weight of unanswered questions, and the confusion grew unbearable. To escape, I let sleep take over, skipping dinner and drifting into twelve hours of undisturbed slumber.
The next morning, around 11:00, I found myself sitting on the terrace with Rahil. The air between us was thick with silence. He was shy, clearly unable to start a conversation, and I had no interest in speaking to him either. But as I observed him, I could see he seemed like a decent person. Finally, I broke the silence.
"I don't want to marry you," I said quietly, bracing myself for his reaction.
He looked stunned, his face clouding with confusion and hurt. "Why?" he asked, his voice rising slightly. "Did I say something wrong? Did my family do something to offend you?"
I didn't answer his questions directly. Instead, I asked him, "Do you want to marry me?"
He lowered his head, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Yes," he said, almost shyly. "Even before we met. Just from hearing about you, I had already decided I wanted to marry you. I knew I'd say yes."
He paused for a moment, then looked up at me with surprising maturity. "But Drishti, don't worry. If you don't want to marry me, it's fine. No one will force you. Just relax, okay?"
I was taken aback by how calmly he handled my rejection. I had been so worried that I might hurt his pride, that he might lash out at me, and that I wouldn't know how to deal with it. But none of that happened.
"It's not about you," I explained. "It's just that I want to get a job first. I need to do that before I marry anyone."
Rahil nodded, understanding. He didn't push or question my decision, and in that moment, I felt a weight lift off my chest. For once, someone understood me without making demands.
I hadn't told my father yet. Rahil listened to me so calmly, as though he had known me for years. When I finished, there wasn't even a moment of hesitation before he spoke.
"Did I ask you to marry me right now?" he said with a gentle smile. "No, I didn't. So, why do you look so stressed? I'm really happy you expressed all this to me before marriage. Isn't that the sign of good communication between a couple?"
His words were comforting, almost like he had been waiting to say them. He leaned forward slightly, holding his cup of tea as if it gave him something to focus on while speaking. "I love that you want to become independent. I'll support you in your journey. But for now, we need to say something to our parents. We can't keep them waiting for long."
He took a sip of his tea and continued, "I promise you, even after we're married, my family and I will never stop you from doing what you love. We won't stand in the way of your dreams. In our house, you will never lose your individuality."
He spoke so effortlessly, as though he had not only listened to me but also prepared his response long before I finished talking. His words were genuine, and for the first time, I felt understood. But as I looked at him, something strange happened. For a fleeting moment, I saw a glimpse of Kabir in Rahil's eyes - the same calm, unspoken depth that Kabir had. It was almost as if Kabir had come to comfort me through Rahil, even if just for a second. I blinked, and the image was gone. Kabir was gone again, leaving me with a strange peace and an answer to my confusion.
I took a deep breath. "Yes, I'll marry you," I said, my voice steady. "But first, I need to find a job. I want to do something for myself and for my parents before marriage."
I met his eyes confidently, feeling a sense of relief. He didn't say a word in response. Instead, he stood, smiled softly, and gently caressed my head, as though acknowledging the weight of my decision. He understood exactly what I was trying to say.
I was sitting on the terrace, trying to prepare myself for what I would say to my family. I rehearsed conversations in my head, bracing for what I thought would be a battle. But when I finally went downstairs, I found that I didn't have to say anything at all. Rahil had already taken care of everything.
Rahil and his family had already left, and my own family was sitting in the hall, looking stressed. My aunt approached me with a hesitant expression. "Rahil agreed to the marriage," she said, "but he had one condition. He'll only marry you if you get a job. He doesn't want to marry a girl who'll depend on him, and he's set the wedding for next year. So, do you want to find a job, or should we reject the proposal? Just think carefully before you make any decision. His family is very nice and rich, and it will be hard to find another match like this."
I stood there, amazed. Rahil had played his cards so perfectly that now my family was urging me to get a job - something I had always wanted but never dared to push for. Well played, Rahil.
"I agree," I said, feeling an odd mixture of relief and gratitude. My family quickly nodded in agreement with Rahil's conditions, and for the first time in a long while, I felt like the weight of my own dreams was no longer a burden I had to carry alone.
The next day, I began searching through newspapers for job advertisements, but as expected, there were hardly any openings for a 12th-pass fresher like me. Two days later, a postman came to our house, delivering an envelope addressed to me. It was from Rahil.
Curious, I opened it and found a job advertisement inside. It was for a radio station, looking for a fresh voice as an RJ. No qualifications were required, just fluency in Hindi - and the interview was scheduled for tomorrow. My heart raced with a mix of excitement and nervousness. This was a real chance, a glimmer of hope when I had almost none.
I couldn't believe it. Rahil had gone out of his way to help me in my pursuit of independence. He wasn't just promising support - he was taking real steps to help me achieve my dreams. What more could I ask for in a life partner?
Grateful and overwhelmed, I tried to collect myself. After controlling my emotions, I sat down and started preparing for the interview. Tomorrow could be the start of something new.
I was sitting on the terrace, mentally preparing myself for what I would say to my family when I went downstairs. Little did I know that I wouldn't have to say anything; Rahil had already arranged everything. When I went down, I found my family sitting in the hall, looking stressed. My aunt approached me and said, "Rahil agreed to the marriage, but he has one condition. He will marry you only if you get a job; he doesn't want to marry a girl who will depend on him. He plans to marry next year, so think carefully about what you want to do. He comes from a nice and wealthy family, and it will be hard to get such a proposal again."
I was amazed at how well Rahil had planned everything. Now I didn't have to fight for my dream; my family wanted me to find a job. Well played, Rahil. I accepted his proposal, and my family agreed to all the conditions.
From that point on, I started searching for job advertisements in the newspaper, but there were almost no openings for a 12th-grade fresher. Two days later, a postman arrived at our house with an envelope addressed to me from Rahil. When I opened it, I found a job advertisement looking for a fresh voice as an RJ at a radio station. There were no specific qualifications required; only a native Hindi speaker was eligible, and the interview was scheduled for the next day. I felt a wave of happiness, excitement, and nervousness wash over me. I was grateful to Rahil for actually helping me pursue my dreams. What more could I expect from my life partner? He was the best. After calming my emotions, I began preparing for the interview.
The next day, in the evening, I was coming home from the interview when I called Rahil from a phone booth. He didn't greet me with the usual "hi" or "hello." Instead, he immediately recognized my voice and asked, "How did your interview go?" Not wanting to discuss it over the phone, I asked him to meet me at St. Andrew Church, and he agreed.
An hour later, I was sitting in the church, which was so beautiful that I couldn't even describe it in words. Its energy, architecture, and sculptures were perfect. Suddenly, I saw Rahil coming toward me, holding flowers in one hand and a black umbrella in the other. I realized it was raining heavily. This was typical of Bombay; you could never guess when it would rain. But I must say, Bombay looked marvelous in the rain; the vibes were unique and amazing.
Rahil sat next to me, handed me the flowers, and said, "Congratulations." I replied, "Did I tell you whether I got the job? Because I remember saying nothing about it." He laughed and said, "No, you didn't tell me anything. I congratulated you because if you got the job, that's amazing. But if not, it's still a milestone; it's your first time traveling alone in the city, which is something to celebrate." He was so smart to motivate me like that.
"I accept your congratulations because I did get the job! I'm so happy I can't even describe it. This is one of the best things that has ever happened in my life - not just the job, but you and Kabir. You two showed me the direction I needed to go." I realized I was tearing up a little. Were these tears of joy or a sign that I was missing someone? I was lost in my thoughts until Rahil gently wiped my tears with his finger. I could see his happiness for me in his eyes.
He said, "This is just your first step; now you have to soar high and fulfill your dreams. Remember, the sky is not the limit for you." He paused for a moment and then asked, "Who is Kabir? You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but I'm curious." I laughed because it was the first time I'd seen him fumble; he usually spoke confidently. Whenever he spoke, I felt echoes of Kabir in his words, and I couldn't shake that feeling off.
After regaining my composure, I decided to tell him everything about Kabir and my journey with him. Rahil listened intently, not reacting at all. He was so focused that I noticed a tear slip from his eye. He quickly wiped it away, and as I shared my story, it felt like I was recounting a normal journey between two strangers. But Kabir's goodbye was something that wouldn't allow me to move on. Kabir had once told me that he had been lost for ages, unsure of where he was going. It was difficult to accept that the man who guided me in my own story was lost in his.
Suddenly, Rahil looked toward the door, he pointed outside and asked,"If this is the oldest church in Bandra, then the house right in front of it must be his" he said confidently, his tone light but certain. "And if it's not, don't worry - I'll help you knock on every door near the church until we find Kabir's place." His words carried a playful reassurance, as if the task of searching every house didn't phase him at all, but instead felt like an adventure he was ready to embark on with me."So, do you want to meet him? I can take you there." I felt an overwhelming urge to say yes; I had so many questions for Kabir. "Yes, I need to meet him. I have to find out how he is now, why he was crying when he left."
Rahil smiled, stood up, and took my hand. "Then let's go. If meeting him can clear your mind, it's necessary." We walked out of the church and headed toward Kabir's house, praying that he was okay. I couldn't forget the tears that had rolled down his cheeks.
In a few minutes, we arrived at Kabir's house. Rahil rang the doorbell, and we waited. I had hoped, with all my heart, that Kabir would be the one to open the door. But when it creaked open, it wasn't him. Instead, a young man stood there, someone who looked strikingly similar to Kabir. His features were familiar - perhaps a little sharper, but unmistakably related. This must be his brother, I thought, my heart sinking slightly with the realization."Yes, who are you?" he asked, his expression neutral. I instinctively looked inside the house, searching for Kabir.
Rahil replied, "We're here to see Kabir. Is he home?" The man opened the door wider and invited us in, saying, "Hello, I'm Amar, Kabir's elder brother. And you are?" Before we could respond, Kabir's mother entered. She saw us and asked, "Are you friends of Kabir?" Rahil answered, "Yes."
Before he could elaborate, I noticed tears welling up in Kabir's mother's eyes. Suddenly, an older man in the corner faltered and sat down, sobbing. Kabir's mother sat on the sofa, struggling to hold back her tears. The atmosphere became suffocating; I felt so scared that I instinctively clutched Rahil's shoulders, taking a step back and partially hiding behind him. Rahil held my hand tightly to reassure me.
Somehow, Amar managed to control his tears and said, "Please calm down, everyone. They don't know what happened. Let's allow them to speak." His mother, gathering her composure, asked, "Why do you want to meet Kabir? He never mentioned you guys, so could you tell me how you know him?"
Gaining courage, I stepped forward to explain everything. I told them about my journey with Kabir. Everyone listened intently, their eyes fixed on me. I repeatedly glanced at Rahil, unsure of how they would react, but he was just as lost in the moment. Kabir's father suddenly asked, "When did all this happen? How can he tell you about the accident? The date?"
I replied, "I met him on the train to Bombay on August 6th. He told me about the accident before he left. There's something that's been bothering me, though. I need to know why he was crying..."
Before I could finish, Kabir's father interrupted me. "Stop this nonsense! Do you think we're fools? What's your purpose here? Why are you lying that you met him on August 5th?"
I responded, "No, Uncle, I'm not lying. It's true that I met Kabir on August 5th, and he told me about his accident. You can call him and ask if I'm lying." Kabir's father approached us, placed his hand on my head, and said, "It seems you're not lying, but you must be confused about some other Kabir because the Kabir you met couldn't be my son. He died on August 4th. He didn't survive the accident; death claimed him instantly, leaving no time for last words or final breaths. It was over in an instant, as though fate had already decided his end the moment the crash occurred."
What did he just say? Kabir was dead? How could that be possible? I had seen him, talked to him, and touched him. How could this all be an illusion? I looked at the family photo hanging on the wall, sure that the Kabir I had met was the same one smiling back at me. This was the worst moment I had ever faced. I felt my hands and legs shake, and I was about to fall, but Rahil caught me. Kabir's father handed me a glass of water, and after a few minutes, I regained my senses. I could see that Kabir's father was crying as he said, "I think you're mistaken; you never met Kabir."
I wanted to scream, to make them understand the truth of my experience, but instead, Rahil told me we should leave. I didn't see any other option. As we walked out, I suddenly remembered something. Kabir had given me a task, and I needed to complete it. Turning back, I told his father, "I know it's hard to believe, but what I said is true. Kabir told me to convey a message to you. He wanted you to know that he never hated you; he disagreed with your thoughts but could never hate you. He loves you, and you were the best dad for him."
His mother looked at me, tears flowing down her cheeks, as she said, "You can't be serious. He never spoke about this."
His father broke down, whispering, "I love you, beta." The family surrounded him, weeping openly. I glanced at Rahil, who stood behind me, listening intently. I took a deep breath and said, "You may not have known, but he told me he would never stop loving you all."
Kabir's family was taken aback. I knew they were shocked, but it was necessary for them to hear it. They needed closure, just like I did. I couldn't change what had happened, but maybe this message could help ease their pain. After what felt like an eternity, Kabir's mother said, "I'll trust you, but it hurts to hear this. Please, go now; we need time to process all this."
I couldn't bear to stay any longer, so I took Rahil's hand and left. As we walked away from Kabir's house, I felt a mix of emotions. I had lost Kabir, yet I had shared his message with his family. I was grateful to Rahil for being there by my side. We reached the church again, where Rahil hugged me tightly.
"I'm sorry you had to go through this," he whispered. I replied, "Thank you for being here. I needed you."
I knew it wouldn't be easy to move on, but I was grateful for the journey I had taken with Kabir. He had taught me so much, and though he was gone, his spirit would always be a part of me. As we walked away from the church, I felt a sense of peace. I knew that I had honored Kabir's memory, and that was enough for now.
That day changed everything for me. It's been thirty years, and I still struggle to understand what happened on August 6th. I know now that people don't stare at us just because we're a girl and a boy; they gaze because they can't see Kabir, only I can. He is a part of my life I cannot forget, a friend who guided me at the start of my journey and disappeared at its end.
