Faajal ran her fingertips across the spine of dusted books, smelling slightly musty and gagging. But she didn't care. The older books became, the more worth they obtained, subsisting through ages. They were rambling across the junk room of the studio during their lunch break. Yusuf and Pran surveyed disposed film rolls and expired tints. Pran planned to notch out an outdated camera, still functioning, but the reverse lever was clogged up. He claimed some tactics from the local mechanic could restore it. Yusuf was focused on identifying spoiled 35 mm film frames. These were from the 1930s, certainly, as studios now prefer 65 mm of width.

Faajal traced the titles of the books, some almost had vanished. She dragged out a photo album and disclosed photos of early stars and workers. A barely recognizable handwriting labelled the dates the photos were captured on. The last picture consisted of Devika Rani's expired husband and her. She hadn't aged even a little bit. No contrast lingered between her current profile and the earlier one except her hairline had reared up.

Film rolls clattered as the two men hustled amid neglected items. They would undoubtedly arouse suspicions if they didn't stay quiet timely. "SHHH!" Faajal spat at them who sheepishly blinked at her. She groaned and turned away. Her concentration was immersed in exploring the patched memories when a cry punctured in, followed by a clang. "HELP!! HELP!! OH, HELL!!"

She sprinted to the source to find Pran clinging to a shelve, dangling midair. The ladder laid on the floor and Yusuf balanced the rocking shelves, bracing his arms around the timbers. "WHO TOLD YOU TO CLIMB THERE?!"

"STOP IT AND DO SOMETHING!!" Pran screeched, now losing his grip on the wooden ply.

"Where have you been, di?" Chanchal's voice rambled inside as she prowled through the slim threshold. "No time to answer, Chanchal!" Faajal tried to position the ladder back to Pran, but his weight and the unsteady motion drenched her attempts. Chanchal bolted her helping hand in and poised the ladder, but it only stretched a few feet shorter than Pran's distance. Yusuf broke into a cold sweat, propping the shelves tighter. "Pran, get off now!" Faajal hollered out.

"I CAN'T!! Don't you see the shelves and the height?!"

"YOU can! Just put a foot!" Chanchal barked.

"NO!! And why are you here?" Pran retorted.

"Unsentimental fool! Mind your own safety first!"

"I....I am!" Pran struggled with his grip while whisking his foot to reach the ladder. The tip of the ladder scraped the sole of his shoe, but his foot couldn't stable on it. Chanchal, out of a sudden, started clambering towards him.

"CHANCHAL, WHAT THE HELL!?" Yusuf scoffed, toiling to keep the shelves from collapsing. His call faded in vain. She had almost crossed halfway then. Pran swung his foot to place on the ladder when it swayed again, earning scorn from Chanchal.

"Yusuf, are you alright?" Faajal was tensed from his soaked state from a prolonged labour of strength. She clamped around the ladder tightly. Chanchal elongated her hand to stabilise Pran's foot. "Can you stay still for a moment?!"

"How can I?!" The shelf rapidly swung back and forth, loosening his clutch.

"Ughhh!" Chanchal managed to lace around his foot. She towed it on the ladder, urging him to rest the other foot below. "Come on, now!"

"How can I trust you?"

"Who would climb this high for you if you don't trust me, you ungrateful brat?"

Yusuf growled from below, having his veins float clean beneath his shirt. "PRAN, GET ON THAT NOW!!"

Chanchal lengthened her back to aid him down, shuddering the ladder and menacing Faajal's hold. Pran, at last, conjoined hands with hers and managed to stand on the ladder. Chanchal dismounted first, then Pran hastened down. They had left halfway, but Chanchal's shoe slipped off. Her feet left the ladder, now dangling midair as her hands clawed onto the ladder. "All hell breaks loose!!" She grunted, having her hand sweaty enough to glide off.

"CHANCHAL!! GRAB TIGHT AND SHAKE OFF THE SHOES! THEN, STEP ON IT!!" Faajal's scream banged the deserted hall.

"I AM!! EGHH," Chanchal shook off her shoes and intended to rest her foot on a step, but failed. Pran descended another step, now inches close to her and encircled her waist. "WHAT are YOU doing?!"

"Saving you, brat!" His nails dug into her back as he clamped her harder and cautiously stepped down with his clear hand.

"Careful, careful!" Yusuf murmured as they landed on the ground. He let go of the shelves and rushed to them. Chanchal's braid was unruly, and her dupatta was almost unpinned. Pran was sleek with sweat and terror. His cinnamon tan was replaced with a stark blend of red and purple.

"I would have been hurt for you!" Chanchal spurned, fixing her dupatta.

"Who told you to come?" Pran dusted off the spider webs on his shirt and hair. "Huh, janglee murgi." He babbled, waving her brows in mock anger. Chanchal wobbled her throat to thrust another insult.

Faajal eyed Yusuf's watch. Their lunch break was soon to end. "You two would get us murdered now! Let's leave!" Yusuf wiped his hands with the edge of her dupatta and led them out.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Dawn washed the sky with blue and violet as Faajal sat by a window, cherishing shayaris from the shayar reciting below. A small function had been gathered on their street, performed by locally renowned shayars.

"Nigah hain yah talwar, joh mere jigar ko lahoon se ranga deta hain?" One of the shayars presented to the microphone. [Is this a gaze or a blade, painting my liver in blood?] The moderate crowd cheered, some appraising the verse.

"Nigah hain yah talwar, joh mere jism ko sitaro mein bhar deta hain?" [Is this a gaze or a blade, filling my body with stars?

A man joined the audience, his chest draped in a grey shawl. His light brown hair danced in the evening breeze as the milky sheened skin hooked her eyes. He looked familiar, but Faajal shunned him.

The shayar now was intoning compositions on the intensity of heart, the connection of souls and the longing we stumble upon only to return grievous.

Faajal clapped after the end note but soon paused, grasping a pair of eyes beaming at her. That shawl-wrapped man was gazing behind the iron gate, the gleam in his pupils embodied that person's Faajal had learnt by heart. Yusuf stared at her with his lips mildly curved. His hand waved at her, so did she. An instant smile hung on her face. A meagre sight of him was equivalent to a daylong of sunlight—a freshening sensation reviving her vigour.

He inserted an envelope in the mailbox and motioned for her to come down. She bobbed her head in denial, hinting at Ravinder. He rolled his eyes, folding his arms on his chest. Faajal groped around for a means of communication. She noticed her diary lying on the table. Hastening to it, she ripped a piece and tucked a pen in its middle. Then, the paper plane took its flight, soaring through its tracks until landing on his ankle. He unfolded it and scrawled his message. Then, the plane reversed to its starting point.

Kucch hain tere liye. Kaal jaldi aana.

[Have something for you. Come early tomorrow.]

His smile widened, and so did hers. Her eyes beamed at him, brimming with ecstasy, while his pair glistened with yearning.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Faajal knocked on his door. Seconds later, he clicked open and granted her access. "So, what do you intend to give? Her manner sounded commanding as if she were his mistress. He grinned, removing the locks scratching his temple. "Well, I had promised you something years ago, remember?"

"You have made countless promises. How am I to recall a specific one?" She plopped on the sofa.

He closed to her, so close that their breaths melded into one harmony. "Remember the day we shared lichies,"

"And you gifted me that payal." Her reflection was glazing in those ocean eyes.

"We promised to buy another one together." A silver payal dangled in his fingers, the partner to the previous one. The tiny bells chimed, tuning their exhales with serenity. Her gaze sparkled at the payal, dazzled by its delicacy.

"Dussera holiday is in 2 days!" He rested the cool payal on her palm. "If that father of yours allows, I shall introduce you to my family." His fingers twined with hers. "Then, wear the pair for me. You'll look stunning." Elation brightened his words as his radiance flared fairer.

How could she tell him of that payal? Saira hadn't returned it yet and Faajal wouldn't dispose of her pride. Whereas, elucidating to Yusuf would pain him. He couldn't stand Saira's name.

She stared at him dumbfoundedly, wrestling with dilemma. Her jaw worked, but no reply was brought forth. Unpleasant answers churned in her throat.

"Faajal?"

She jerked from stupor, blinking to replenish the awkward pause. "I will ask baba."

His fond gaze twinkled on the payal in her palm. His eagerness scared her that it would be marred soon. 

A/N: I was on another vacation to wildlife, so couldn't update on time. My heartiest apology to dear readers. It's the first chapter of new year!