-• an unexpected encounter •-

Typically, we see one full moon each month. But when the blue moon phenomena occurs, two full moons appear twice in a row. One, in the beginning of the month, and another at end of it. It's not a frequent occurrence, and happens every two to three years. Hence, the idiom goes, once in a blue moon.

It's unclear where the term blue moon came from. There's a probability it might be a mispronounciation of the disused word "belew" which means 'to betray'. Now this can be a reference to the betrayal of the usual idea of having one full moon every month or perhaps something entirely different.

But as a child, I used to think the name blue moon has something to do with the colour of it. I believed we call it blue moon because it's blue in colour. But that's not the case, we call it blue moon because it's rare. Something that you know you can expect, but have no idea when.

But I think I liked the idea of the moon actually being blue than just appearing twice in the same month. I guess, the latter has a more scientific connotation to it, which makes it boring. Fantasy and fascination are two different things, you can be fascinated by a fantasy but you can't create a fantasy of a fascination. Blue moon was my fantasy. So when I understood the reality of it, the fascination wore off.

"We'll be starting night school from tomorrow," Agastya informs me, his eyes barely glancing at me, consumed by the rubix cube in his hand, one that he has been trying to solve for the last one hour.

"Just give it to me. I'll do it for you." Ayush demands, annoyed by the constant fixing of the rubix cube.

"No, I'll do it." Agastya insists.

I sigh, not really surprised by his stubbornness. The brush in my hand gently dips in the blue water color, diluted slightly with the black, swirling and mixing before I lift it to the canvas. "Shouldn't the moon be golden?" Arush stops scribbling on his notebook.

I glance at him over my shoulder, my eyes drifting back to the painting. "Why? Does it look weird?"

"It strangely matches with the night," Ayush hums.

Hearing that, Agastya raises his head, his eyes taking in the almost finished painting. "Yeah, it does," he mutters and goes back to his rubix cube. I simper.

"Don't you guys have your own rooms?" I ask softly. I had been painting for two hours now, and the three had come in one by one.

Agastya came to demand why I left school in the middle of the game, then got distracted by the rubix cube and rest is history. Arush had come to get back his geometry assignment notebook since he has to submit it today. Upon seeing his favourite brother lounging in my room, he didn't waste time shifting his work to my desk. Ayush came to suggest me some good books. From the time I've told him reading doesn't interest me, it's like he has made it his mission to at least get me into one book of his choice. And once he caught the sight of us three 'hanging out' together, he pulled himself a chair and got an energy bar from the drawer, reading the same book he had bought for me.

"Your room has the best ventilation," Ayush murmurs.

"And the best aesthetic," Arush adds.

"And the best view," Agastya mutters. He isn't even enjoying the view.

"About the night school you were telling me?" I probe him to finish.

"Oh, yeah, tenth and twelfth grade will be starting night school from tomorrow. Did you not receive the notice?"

I glance mournfully at my phone on the nightstand. I didn't use it the whole day except to check the time. I haven't even called Janet today. We usually talk a little after I come home from school.

"Night school as in?"

"Night school as in," Ayush trails. "We go to school as usual at eight, sit through all the lectures as per the timetable and are sent back home at the usual time to have our dinner and then head back to school. It starts at eight thirty and ends at eleven thirty. Two hours for each major subject that is Science and Maths and one for self study." He states.

I drop the brush on the palette. "Sounds terrible."

"It is terrible," Arush mumbles distractedly.

"It feels terrible because it's your first time," Agastya says, finally giving up on the rubix cube as he tosses it at Ayush. The younger twin catches it in his fist and starts solving it excitedly. "It's just one month. So you'll live."

"You're in the last year. This must be your second time." I realise.

He hums and lies on the bed, hugging my pillow to his chest. "Why is everything in your room so soft and plush?" He frowns, squeezing the pillow aggressively.

"Because I take care of my things." I remark cockily.

"Can moon really be blue though?" Arush eventually comes back to the painting, the colour of my moon still bothering him. Did I not say he's a perfectionist?

"That's like asking whether water has a colour?" I smile at him. "It can never be blue, unfortunately, but in very rare circumstances it can appear blue. In that case it is a colour added to the moon by viewing it through a haze of dust particles in our atmosphere, perhaps from a recent volcanic eruption. Hence, if you view it from space, the moon will look grey, like it has always been."

Arush nods, twirling the pen skillfully between his fingers, his attention stolen by the moon on my canvas.

A knock on the door interrupts us. I shift my gaze to the threshold, spotting a maid standing their obediently, waiting for our attention. "Yes?"

"The dinner is ready." She informs politely and exits with a bow.

I drop my brush in the water and get up, wiping my hands to the dry cloth.

The sheets rustle, a book slams close behind me and the desk chair wheels back. As I turn, three of my brothers wait for me to walk ahead. I smile and take the lead, fond of their gentlemen attitude. These were the same boys who seemed like they merely tolerated my existence on my initial days here.

A guard opens the door for us, and the four heads raise, surprise shining through their irises when they spot us coming together.

"All four of you together?" Vivaan questions curiously.

I thank my father when pulls the chair for me. "They were hanging out in my room," I share, flipping over my plate and beginning to serve myself.

"Together?" Dad asks, sounding shocked.

"Yes," I chuckle, witnessing the look of disbelief on everyone's face.

"What were you guys doing?" Vivaan leans in curiously, his fingers interlacing through the gaps.

"I was painting. Agastya was trying to solve the rubix cube, which in the end he gave up on-"

"I didn't give up. I was bored." Agastya scoffs.

"Yeah, he was bored." I air quote the last word teasingly. "Ayush was reading a book and Arush was completing his assignments." I end with a small smile.

"All of you were doing your own things?" Yuvaan raises a brow at me.

"Yeah," I nod.

"Then what's the point of hanging out together?" He frowns.

"We don't need a reason to hang out together. We're siblings." Agastya answers nonchalantly.

"I didn't ask you,"

"Your question was pointless."

"Like your existence," Yuvaan snorts.

Agastya chuckles and dust off his hands with a clap, his elbow sliding to the right of the plate as he eyes Yuvaan with a mirthful gaze. "Are you by any chance jealous?"

Yuvaan drops the spoon, it clanks with the plate. He laughs bluntly. "Ridiculous. Why would I be jealous?"

"You know better," Agastya nods.

Yuvaan rolls his eyes. "Get out of whatever delusion you're living in. Hanging out with a bunch of teenagers doesn't fancy me."

"Yeah, is that why you're acting so broody?"

"I always act like this," Yuvaan bites out.

"Right, how can I forget that? It isn't a personality trait anymore if it's your personality now." He sighs and looks back down at his plate.

"What is your problem with me!?" Yuvaan slams his hands on the table, getting up furiously. The chair screeches back with force, causing me to flinch at the noisy impact it had on my eardrums.

I hear Yuvraaj sigh tiredly.

Same, Bhai. Same.

"Your breathing." Agastya answers nonchalantly, swirling the ghee in his Dal.

"Agastya, Yuvaan, what are you guys doing?" Vivaan questions, disappointment lacing his voice. "Stop picking fights with each other and finish your dinner."

"He started it." Yuvaan points at Agastya.

"So?" Agastya tilts his head daringly. "Do you want me to apologise to you?"

"No, keep your sorry to yourself." Yuvaan sneers.

"I will. It's too precious to be wasted on someone like you." He scoops a spoonful and puts it in his mouth, lazily slow.

"Ah," Yuvaan scoffs out a chuckle. "Now I get it. Now I get it why you're trying to get on my nerves. Why? Annoying me and indulging me in these petty arguments helps you distract yourself from the thought of your mother's death?" He smiles, unamused.

Everyone stiffens at his words.

Agastya clenches the spoon tightly.

"Are you still deluding yourself to think she was a nice woman who loved you by rereading those stupid mails she left us?" Yuvaan continues. "What a coward. You know something? I pity you. Must be hard to be so emotionally weak that you make up for it by acting like a douche on the outside," he snorts and storms out of the dining hall.

Agastya wastes no time in going after him.

We all look at Yuvraaj in panic. He doesn't budge from his seat. Vivaan shakes his head in disbelief at his nonchalant attitude and gets up to run after his brothers.

"Don't," Yuvraaj states.

"Bhai-"

"I said, don't." He finally looks, but to glare at Vivaan. "Sit down and continue your dinner."

I flinch hearing something crash to the floor.

"What if they hurt each other?" I ask worriedly to no one in particular. Vivaan's thought matches mine and we both look at the door longingly, wanting to get up and go behind them.

"They've already hurt each other with their words," Dad mumbles. I discern a note of guilt in his voice. "Maybe the physical pain will blind those emotional wounds," he exhales a shaky breath.

Vivaan drops to his chair in defeat.

The guard closes the double doors, drowning out the scarring words hurled at each other in the fit of anger, and a deafening silence fall upon us. Like felines, we close our senses, pretending what we don't see, has never happened.

"You're starting night school from tomorrow," Yuvraaj suddenly brings up, probably trying to shift to a lighter topic. The twins and I force ourselves to nod. "Stay focused. It's just two more months. For summer vacation, I'll send you guys to somewhere fun."

"Is that a bribe?" Ayush teases.

Surprisingly, Yuvraaj smiles. "I'd rather call it an investment."

"Well, if that works," Ayush shrugs.

"Have you decided something?" Yuvraaj suddenly looks at me.

"Like what?"

"Your future," Vivaan adds. "Have you decided something for your future?"

I swallow uneasily. "Is it embarrassing if I say I don't have a dream right now?" I bite my lower lip.

Yuvraaj's expression fall blank.

"It's not embarrassing," Vivaan smiles. "Of course not. We were just asking. Take your time."

"Yeah, don't worry about it right now." Dad strokes the back of my head. "Focus on your studies for now."

"Just try not to follow the path of those two rebels," Yuvraaj says, his tone icy, biting at my conscience.

"What do you mean?"

"Art and sports help you lead a talented life, but they are not enough to live a successful one. It's either the family business, medicine, or law." There's a certainty in his voice, controlling my future, that I don't have courage to deny. "And if you're stubborn enough to follow your dreams, pave your own path. You'll not be provided any help through old money."

"Is that a warning?"

He shakes his head. "An advice."

Suddenly, the mystery man flashes before my eyes at his words. No wonder the two get along despite being so harsh in nature. All the same, play the same.

"Is that why you're choosing business?" I look at Arush. He halts abruptly. His gaze lifting to meet mine with a glare.

"He chose it because he's mature. Basketball won't help him in the long run."

"Don't worry about me," I turn to him with a smile. "Whatever I decide to become, I won't ever regret it."

"You say that because you're young," his hands clasp together.

"I say that because I don't want to be unhappy." I reply.

Like you. I wanted to add, especially after the old, dusty piano I saw in his room, covered in a white cloth, unused for years, and hence, now useless forever.

He understands my words. He doesn't show it on his face, but the spark of realisation flies across his onyx eyes, and his hard look flickers, like on and off light bulb, uncertain and threatening.

"I'm done. Thank you for the dinner." He quickly gets up and leaves the room, his departure quiet unceremonious to accept.

"Why did you pull me into it?" Arush demands harshly.

"Because your dreams deserve better than a lousy compromise." I tell him.

"That's for me to decide!" He slaps the napkin on the table and exits the dining hall as well.

I sigh, biting my lower lip as my appetite turns shallow. "Was I- was I wrong?" I ask hesitantly to the remaining occupants.

Dad forces a smile on his face and shakes his head in a no.

Ayush simply shrugs.

"You weren't wrong," Vivaan says. I sigh in relief. "It was just too soon." He adds softly, but a heavy weight falls on my chest.

After dinner, I head to my room and grab a first aid box from the bathroom cabinet. Agastya's door is left open when I reach close. He lifts his head as I make my presence aware. "I'm fine," he says, but the cut on his lips makes him wince.

"Yeah, you look fine." Sarcasm drips from my tone.

I pull the ottoman closer to the bed and sit on it, placing the first aid box on the nightstand before I open it, grabbing the disinfectant, ointment, bandaids and gauze.

He reacts quickly, wincing and hissing everytime the disinfectant soaked cotton touches his wounds. I apply the ointment to the corner of his lips and he sighs through it. Then I patch the injuries on his cheek and eyebrows with bandaids. "Anywhere else?" He shows me a nasty purple-bluish bruise under his ribs.

"Are you guys really brothers?" I shake my head and take out the spray. He leans back holding the end of his tshirt as I apply it to the swelling and cover it with the gauze.

"Did your mother love you?" He suddenly asks. I did not expect that question. But given the vulnerability of the moment, I wasn't surprised.

"Yes." I reply.

"How does it feel? To be loved by your own mother?"

I crush the bandaid coverings in my fist. "Warm, loved, belonged." I murmur and meet his eyes. "Like I've someone to depend on. My worries weren't mine alone, no matter how silly they were. I wasn't lonely. But there were days when I felt the exactly opposite of what I just told you."

"Why?" His curious yet innocent voice breaks my heart.

"Because at the end of the day, the one who's always there for you, no matter the time, day or situation, is yourself. I realised that pretty early in my childhood. But despite everything, I was glad to have her around. She kept me on the surface. She was my anchor." I smile sadly.

He nods, sucking in his cheeks as he looks away, sniffling softly.

"She didn't love me. She didn't love any of us. She didn't even love herself, except Dad." He whispers, looking back at me. "If only- if only he had loved her back, if only she was the only woman in his life, maybe she would have been alive today. Maybe- Maybe this wouldn't be my reality right now."

I sit quiet. I'm the daughter of the woman he wished wasn't part of his parents' lives. There's nothing that I say will help him overcome his grief.

"I don't know why I want to remember her for all the good, when I don't remember her at all." He murmurs.

"I'm sorry," I offer softly.

He sighs and rubs a hand all over his face. "You don't have to be. I should be sorry. You should go now. We've school tomorrow."

I nod and get off the ottoman with the first aid box in my hands, wishing him good night before I leave the room. I hesitate before going to the second floor but descend the stairs anyway. Just as I reach Yuvaan's room, Vivaan steps out and closes the door after him. Our eyes meet and we chuckle, amused at finding one similarity between us.

"We're unpaid nurses of this household," I comment.

He laughs, coming over and swinging his arm around my shoulders as we walk in the opposite direction of the corridor.

I go back to my room, passing the night in the arms of the slumber. The next day, I go for a run with Agastya as usual and get ready for school upon returning to my room.

The day at school passes away rather quickly, half of the time I try not to sleep and other half I'm struggling to copy the notes from the whiteboard into my notebook.

We come home and get fresh, each one of us busy studying for the upcoming exams. The dinner is a quiet event, everyone still reeling in the aftereffects of the last night's catastrophe.

At eight, we pile into Agastya's car and he drives us back to school.

"The teacher is not here?" I ask Anagha as I enter the brightly lit classroom. She points to the white board. I glance over and see self study written with a red mark over the board. With a strangled sigh, I make my way to the desk and plop on the seat with a sigh. I fish out my silk handkerchief from the pocket and wipe the sweat off my face before putting it on the desk as I lean over to unzip my bag.

A gush of wind sweeps through the class out of the blue and I hear everyone groan. Just as I sit straight, I find my handkerchief flying out of the window. "What the hell?" I look to my opposite. The boy mutters an apology to all of us and quickly shuts off the window. I click my tongue in annoyance as I peep out of the window. My white scarf has landed weirdly on a big outdoor plant.

"Move," I say to Ayush. He shifts his feet aside, letting me leave. I quickly descend the stairs to the ground floor and make way to the side of the second building. My feet hit the bricked pathway, the night cold as it sends shiver down my spine, arousing goosebumps all over my arms. I reach the tall plant and raise on my tip toes to grab the scarf. My height disappoints me.

Coming up with a quick idea, I grab the thickest branch and shake it harshly. It must have been watered recently because I felt huge blobs of drops fall on my uniform. And maybe on someone else too because I hear them wince.

"Shit! I'm sorry!" I step around the tree, finding a boy at the end of the staircase that leads to the open field, his broad back to me. "I'm sorry. Did I startle you?" I ask, but get distracted easily at what I see in the sky. "A blue moon," I whisper and the boy turns, his face blocking the view, stealing all of my attention.

My breath gets stuck at the ethereal creature standing in front of me.

But wait.

He's familiar.

I step closer, squinting my eyes to look carefully. His face is enough to turn heads around. Angled brows that curve like the bow, luscious full lips and high cheekbones, blessed with a sharp jawline. There's this glassy shine to his skin, it's absolutely flawless. Or maybe it's the moon, offering all of it's glory to this God like human. He feels like snow, beautiful, untouched and cold.

He descends the stair and I stumble back, alarmed. He closes the distance between us, making my heart race wildly in my chest. Then he suddenly leans in, his height overpowering mine and I bend backward with my eyes wide like saucers.

To my surprise, he grabs the handkerchief from the branch and holds it out to me.

I reach to take it, my eyes meeting his. The dark brown in his eyes strikes a familiar chord. A gasp leaves my mouth at the realisation.

"Shourya?"

Uff, this took an interesting turn.

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