Thunderous claps and hootings took over the void her music did. Swara took her last bow for the evening towards a crowd, huge than expected.

That loud recognition pleased her; as an artist. To have her own creation of music not just tendered by herself but loved by millions of people was a dream.

A dream she had been living. Her vocals and fingertips became an instrument to reach another. Music. She spoke to it and it flowed along with her.

Decades of being a music student, Seven years- Five years into the famous band and Two years of being a solo. They indeed shared quite a chemistry.

Together they entertained people. People irrespective of who they are, where they belong to were united as one whole pack tagged as fellows of music lovers.

Swara loved the unity it brought. Today's evening was just another fabulous concert hit striked off from her listed schedule. The curtains were closed for the day.

Backstage members greeted her with cheerful smiles. The backbones of the concert success was them and she made sure to reach out for everyone.

At last, Swara returned back to her changing room and dumped herself on the chair for a minute or two. When she opened her hazel, her own reflection caught her.

Black shimmer gown, bold red lips and high heels - that was her appearance. A perfect facade pulled up on her by several hands of artists.

The constant buzz of her phone made Swara look at it. There were notifications, hundreds of them from her fans- pictures and videos of the concert tagged with her social media id.

But two people's messages brightened her exhausted face. Aditya's and his wife's voice notes to congratulate her and Mia's messages gushing over her concert picture.

She turned. The sky in New York had darkened for the night long ago. It didn't bear stars for all the star lights were below the sky; the city blaring like stars instead.

It must be morning in India. A pleasant late May's Summer- She mused. Swara visited many countries and atleast had a glimpse of some seasons.

But nothing like her homeland. One visit a year was the bare minimum she could do.  Swara had to make ends with her early career choices.

Nine years of being away from home, her people. But her family and friends made sure to keep her presence intact in their lives.

When she couldn't travel, they travelled for her. Shefali and Jay had first rankings on the particular list. Something Aditya would still fuzz about.

But no more of all these. Swara placed her mobile down with a softened face at a certain thought that kept her occupied these days.

"You plan for another concert, my death certificate would reach your table." Jatin, her manager barged inside. There he was. Tired face with a big scowl.

"That's one of the nicest greetings I heard today. Thank you Das!" Swara gave her not-so-sweet smile with the last word emphasized and got up. Counting one, two, th-

"Do not call me Das!" Jatin made his trademark whine. Expected reaction. She smirked through the mirror, her fingers  working to unclasp the ear studs, "Isn't that your name Jatin Das?"

"You can't steer away from the topic Swara." He glared, almost ready to pounce, "You aren't already working on another project behind my back right? I swear I'd--"

"The framework is done. But at the moment, we might have another important task to look after, my friend." Swara gave a friendly pat on his shoulder.

"Here I was planning for a vacation- it was my fault. Now I only wonder if I'll ever have time to relax." Jatin mumbled and a knock disturbed his rambles.

He took charge of the door and on his return, he held two cups of beverages, "I found an Indian restaurant that happened to make chai close to our home."

The grumpy Jatin now posed the biggest grin, all for a chai. She held the cup now. Warm. That brought on many memories, very similar ones with chai and a person.

"Damn! That hits home, doesn't it?" Swara heard him moan with each sip he savoured.  She sipped hers, It was actually better. It did hit waves of home, nearly.

Those flavours of spices brought nostalgia though it wasn't up to her preference. She liked her chai more strongly and one person always made it just right.

Years passed but certain things remained unchanged. It was her love for that particular flavour and for that particular person too, maybe.

But Swara knew despite all the warmth or nostalgia this chai gave, it wasn't the same-

Oh! It can never be the same.

~

Crisp beams of sunbeams and the right amount of mist for the night- Shimla's May summer was a soothing affair to start a fresh day in ease.

But not for one couple. Or atleast for one among them.

Soft piano music played in the background- compositions made by Swara had been their favourite music for their mornings routine.

They stood before the dresser, her in the foremost and him still towering her from behind nevertheless.

Aditya barely had eyes to look for the buttons of his classic white shirt he fastened; for all of it was stolen by his dearest wife in front of him.

Pavithra had been too immersed in her saree draping to notice the adoration. Her slender fingers ran through the plates in haste actions.

She placed it on her shoulder, "I'm late. Again!" Her accusing eyes caught her grinning husband through the mirror. The devil that he was, "This pin--" She huffed.

One long step and Aditya reached for the rescue, "How am I at fault?" Bangles in her hand almost faltered from the grip at that soft whisper.

Aditya smirked; very well aware of what affects her. Two years into marriage made him an expert. Only when he moved step back, Pavithra could breathe.

"I'm delayed to work thrice this week alone." Satisfied with her dressing, Pavithra now turned to him, "I can't flex my work timings like you CEO Aditya."

Aditya had a smug smile. Hands over the tie he did, "A call from our mother can always make things simple." She moved forward to adjust the collars.

"I get paid as an employee there." Pavithra was set to leave, a yelp left her mouth when Aditya's arms wound around her, "No worries. The weekend is already there."

Weekends? Ah! It was Friday -  She barely remembered. But his teasing smile had all the wrong meaning, "Adi!" He laughed at her realisation.

"I'm already lacking sleep." His brow shot up at the complaint, "I was talking about catching your beauty sleep only darling. Is there anything else I miss?"

Talk about twisting words. Pavithra's lips parted a bit- mostly in a want to complain about his wickedness but she ended up with no words.

"Pink suits you, as always." Aditya loved the pink mulmul cotton saree she wore. His fingers stroked her cheek and her lashes fluttered.

However, it was that enduring pink on her face that Aditya preferred more, "Stop looking." Pavithra retreated a step back to move away.

Aditya drew her back by her wrist to his chest, challenge evident in the tone as bowed dangerously close, "Then make me look away."

Pavithra had barely any sight beyond her husband. Mere inches parted them.. two or three, one swift move and their skin would meet.

It was fun- messing and riddling her. Aditya contained the chuckle but it died the movement his tie was pulled. Their noses away just by that last hair of distance.

"Oh, I don't intend to." Pavithra whispered; their eyes stilled as equals, "But now there's something that requires our attention more." Her hand made a safe distance between them.

"Right. Anyways I'll claim it back tonight." He smoothed out the creases of the suit he wore. The slight jab of her elbow to his stomach made Aditya have a painful laughter.

"Keep dreaming." She rushed to aid her belongings, still flushed by the short encounter. Pavithra tried to shrug off. She had no time to entertain such thoughts.

"Listen!" He managed to grab hold of her elbow, "Eat something Pavi. You keep skipping food these days; breakfast in particular."

Pavithra wasn't a person who skipped food, breakfast at that. But somehow food in the morning didn't settle well on her these days. Today was another day added to the series.

"I'll have some bites in school. Promise. I'm in a rush now." Aditya was least convinced hadn't been for those silent pleas. He sighed in defeat.

"Let's go. I'm running late--" Pavithra urged and was dragged downstairs. Aditya gladly followed; him behind, their hands entwined and her non-stop naggings.

Just a very normal day. Yet, so very special.

~

He was home.

The two room apartment in Shimla was his home, once. Lights were bright as before as he remained seated on the dining table. Several foods spread to be eaten.

Food-- it was Asha's domain always. To cook recipes each day he came back after a tiring day. She said- That is all I could do. To cook for you.

But it was her love equally proportioned in the meals, sometimes more than required. That love made even a simple wheat bread taste delicious.

Someone's abrupt presence put a halt to his musings. The hands moved across from dishes to dishes to be served on his plate. Those wrinkled warm hands-- how would he ever forget them?

Asha forwarded a morsel of food, waiting for him to take. She was the same person- kind eyes and soft smile as she narrated something to him.

About some of Rumi's poetry she loved and narrated a few quotes. Not an inch of ache on her face. The light never flickered or diminished in her eyes.

One morsel into his mouth and flavours of delicacy dampened his dark orbs. When was the last time someone ever cooked for him?

Another familiar voice caught him off guard. That voice-- that damned voice he devoured through electronic devices was now next to him.

Their eyes met; his gaping ones and her melting hazels. Asha and she laughed after a small converse and their laughter turned the home more vivid.

She stole glances and he barely blinked. Too lost but much in relief; for her hazels weren't in hurting red nor did it bear piercing questions.

They remained soft with an emotion forbidden to him. He looked away, scared to snatch the happiness from her. Once had been more than enough.

But when she gained the attention by advancing her hand to be taken, his resolve took a slow downfall. Years did pass but few things cannot be forgotten.

It was the very hand he unclasped and stepped back before. Now she extended to him again- the same hope, same glitters reflected in her hazels.

Was he worth it? Of this? Of her?

He doesn't. Or maybe in the slightest flicker of possibility he does and that alone made him proceed to hold the hand he should have never left.

Raised as equals, their hands almost touched and her hand was abruptly pulled away. He looked up and those smiles were no longer intact.

No! They cannot leave. Just as he tried to hold them back, they disappeared in a whirlwind and that very dark whirlwind engulfed him too.

All he could do was to scream.

Startled, Sanskaar got up. His breathing came heavy and he pressed the sweaty palms against his eyes.

Just another dream turned nightmare.

Like so many he had over the years. He could never get used to them; not even once. Sanskaar stood by the foot and raised the curtains.

Outside, Mumbai was a dream lit city even in the early morning of five. But May month had a strained affair considering the humidity.

The cold glass window reflected his self- the blurry vision of messy hair, good face and dark eyes devoid of anything. Details of the nightmares slipped in.

He was never short of dreams; particularly dreams turned nightmares. His grandparents and she were the usual visitors.

Visitors who were dead and gone. Whom he shall never see again. He knew all of it but-- Sanskaar closed his eyes and took a breath.

Maybe it was as people say- when hoped realities don't turn true they become a form of dreams. This way, we can at least live through.

However Sanskaar could certainly not embrace the solace. To live that sort of a happy dream.

What a vain attempt.

The alarm caught hold of him. Shortly, Sanskaar continued the normal routine- an hour of gym, fresh up and he was all set for another day to pass.

About food-- Sanskaar stared at the jug of milk and oats before him. Just the thought of consuming food made his stomach turn and twist.

Demons of past waited for his one fall to take him over. He cannot let his professional life go at stake. No nonsense should stop him, at least in daylight.

He placed the milk and oats back to its respective places. Skipping meals felt  preferable than throwing up food and memories.

A few minutes of drive; Sanskaar reached the designated place. He was received by a man and led to a room. Stylists were inside, waiting for his arrival.

And everything else was in a frenzy mood. Sanskaar's casual clothing was replaced into a branded suit. The stylists were put into immediate action.

One- busy added up the necessary modifications and another, made the final touches to his styled hair. Soon he was ushered to the main area.

The staff ran around setting up the equipments. Chaos; the chaos he was used to over the years. Sanskaar took his position and everyone's attention was to him.

Decade ago, if anyone told he would be a model he would have laughed it off. Life and its irony sure had a huge knack. A bitter smile graced him.

The photographer looked through the lens for a final checking. Once it was all ready to shoot, she asked

"Ready?"

Just a brief moment to switch to his professional side, Sanskaar answered back.

"Ready."

Suddenly it was all about- Lights, Camera and him.

A/n: Belated Merry Christmas everyone 🎄