I Think I am in Love

About the author

Devanshi Sharma is twenty-three years and four books old. She loves talking about writing and has been invited as a speaker to many institutions, including SRCC and IIT Delhi, to judge their competitions. A dreamer by choice and a stubborn workaholic, for her, her family is her lifeline.

Hailing from the city of food, Indore, Devanshi is a total foodie and enjoys travelling while she is writing. Her previous books – No Matter What I Do and Imperfect Misfits – are hot-selling reads and continue to charm youngsters and elderly alike.

You can know more about her or get in touch with her at:

Praise for the author and her works

‘Girl on the go!’

– The Tribune

‘She’s making the write choice.’

– DNA

‘A tantalising read...with soul-touching narrative.’

– The Times of India

‘Unimaginably Talented.’

– Hindustan Times

‘Dreams as a ray of hope: Devanshi.’

– The Chronicle, Raipur

I Think

I Am

In Love

Devanshi Sharma

Srishti

Publishers & Distributors

Srishti Publishers & Distributors

Registered Office: N-16, C.R. Park

New Delhi – 110 019

Corporate Office: 212A, Peacock Lane

Shahpur Jat, New Delhi – 110 049

[email protected]

First published by Srishti Publishers & Distributors in 2019

Copyright © Devanshi Sharma, 2019

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

This is a work of fiction. The characters, places, organisations and events described in this book are either a work of the author’s imagination or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to people, living or dead, places, events or organisations is purely coincidental.

The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the Publishers.

Printed and bound in India

Acknowledgement

I always feel that the freedom my mind has is all because of two people – Mom and Dad. Whatever, wherever, whenever I do something, it’s because of them. The biggest hug and thank you to them for bringing me up as a person who is free to make mistakes and then win over them.

Tolerating a workaholic writer is a task and my family has been doing that perfectly for a while. My grandparents, my families in Gurgaon and Raipur have been of constant support. To have them with me is a blessing, and without them, I wouldn’t have completed the book. I love you guys.

A special thank you to three people without whom my life wouldn’t be as cheerful as it is – Soumya, Bhai and Gungun.

To hear my stories over phone, to hear my blabber and to tell me that the next story should be 20% better than the last one, my gang of friends in Indore have just been my backbone and so have people here in my workplace. It’s a happy workplace family in Gurgaon and to all those who have been there in office by my side, thank you!

To the best padosis I have, thanks for hearing the stories on all weekends and discussing so many ideas!

My reviewers – Priya and Neha. A big thanks for all the comments, feedback and appreciation. All of it made our book great and that means a lot.

A special shout out to my metro buddy, who gave this story an altogether new perspective.

Last but the most important, the crew – Arup, Vivek and everyone at Srishti Publishers. The best editor – Stuti, you have always ensured our book conveys what the story wanted to. And to the cutest and the youngest contributor – Amay. Thanks, little hero.

To all the lovely readers, much love!

Prologue

I know I won’t get an answer, but I wanted to ask something, she said rather authoritatively.

Amidst the pin drop silence, her words echoed in the empty hotel room.

Ranchi, now famous as skipper M.S. Dhoni’s birth town, is a quiet city. It resonates the warmth of Bihar’s culture and hospitality, wherein everyone is welcomed with open arms. The city had welcomed Meera and Ishaan with the same warm embrace.

These two, I’d say, were like two un-friended friends. Wondering what that means? Well, that they were bothered about each other quite a bit, but pretended that they didn’t care. Amidst the steady strains in the friendship now, they had seen their lows and highs. But keeping aside their apprehensions, they had entered Ranchi with seven of their friends to attend a colleague’s wedding.

While the rest of the gang was overjoyed and excited to explore the new city in the evening, these two weirdoes sat inside the hotel room, pretending to look into their phones with awkwardness freely flowing in the room, accompanied by its best friend, silence, garnished with anger.

The room was bursting with unheard feelings, unsaid emotions, open-ended conversations, and an orphaned friendship which was hopefully waiting for both of them to adopt it. In a room hypnotized by silence, Meera’s words were piercing. But, as always, Ishaan’s silence was sharper than her words. He made sure his reply was as wry as it could be.

If you know you’ll not get an answer, why do you even bother to ask?

Wearing a navy blue kurta, Ishaan depicted the calmness of the sky. It seemed as if peace was encapsulated in him. He lay down on the bed, facing Meera, but not looking at her. He tried his best to escape her questions and her company, but when two people have to end up together, they do. No matter what.

Ishaan did not want any conversation to begin, because he knew well this question would come up. Especially when she had stayed quiet and unexpectedly formal in front of everyone else.

She was always the inquisitive and curious one, and he, always someone who would speak only when he wanted to. A Cancerian and a Sagittarius can be a deadly combination, after all.

And Cancerians are pretty stubborn. They don’t give up easily. Being one, Meera questioned, You feel you have the liberty of disappearing from someone’s life without their permission?

The first question fired and he immediately put his earphones on, pretending to not hear a word. Mind you, no music was playing yet.

Meera had taken off her kohl, but her eyes were red; she had taken off her copper eye-shadow, but the eye-lids complained of sleeplessness; her make-up remover had cleared her skin of all shimmer, but there was a big, fat tear shining on it. Even when she was here for a dear friend’s wedding, for which she was most excited, her usual smile was missing.

Like all other times, this time too, his silence pinched her inside out. Every time she wanted an answer, his silence was her reply. Every time she wanted a friend to hug, his quietness came in between and every time she wanted to talk to him, his lack of words answered back. In the race between her words and his silence, his silence always won.

However, she didn’t give up on him – she never had, she never would. She came closer to him and said firmly, "Take off your earphones! Now! Her eyes sparkled with anger, and knowing her anger, he hardly wanted her to begin. He reluctantly removed the earphone from his right ear as she asked, It is pretty unfair to just stop talking to a friend without having any reason, Ishaan."

His face reflected a mix of irritation, expectation and frustration.

‘How do I tell her that if I answer her questions, I’ll end up making things complicated for her, for us, for everyone? It’s best that I keep quiet right now, although I hate to see her in such a condition,’ he contemplated.

For him, she was a little kid wanting to chase him. But for her, he was her reason to smile.

So be it, Meera. I am happy being unfair, he replied, irritated, trying desperately to evade answering.

As much as she felt he had an innocent smile and a beautiful heart, she had also tasted his volcanic anger. His face, that was undoubtedly calm usually, looked miffed today. As if silently pleading her to leave him alone; as if silently requesting her to not invite more insult on herself.

But, what Meera saw in his silence was the underlying answer to many of her questions.

Silence is sometimes a strong foundation of some relationships, and words are then, mere spoilers.

Disclaimer:

Meera’s world is full of unsaid emotions, half-hearted

conversations and endless aspirations. There is drama

that accompanies her throughout.

Enter at your own risk.

THE END

A conversation without words!

Meera Tiwari is feeling excited.

1 December, 15:45

New Delhi Railway Station

‘T ravelling to my best friend’s wedding!! By the way, travelling in a train after five long years!’

Meera quickly updated her Facebook status with a bright smile as she boarded the blue-painted Rajdhani Express to Ranchi. She wasn’t a lover of weddings as such, but the fact that she was travelling to one of her closest colleague’s wedding gave her exciting vibes. Being the most expressive kinds, she immediately chose to let her Facebook frenzy know how she was feeling and what she was doing.

She was a popular fashion vlogger. And with a good thirty-two thousand people following her, the moment she posted her picture with the status, there was a flood of likes and comments. Meera replied to a few comments with a dazzling smile that shone through her lip gloss, and stayed in her shell pretty happily. For others, recreation was in enjoying vacations, but for Meera, recreation was hidden in her work.

She was someone who took time to get comfortable, and until she wasn’t comfortable, she was happier being in a zone where she was. Her work was her comfort zone, where people loved her for being herself.

‘What is life minus hardwork and emotions?’ she always thought.

They were a bunch of office friends travelling together from Delhi, and strangely, while six of them were engrossed in conversations, the seventh one found a place near the window. Meera was a rare case of being an extreme – either she was jumping with excitement, or she was gloomy with thoughts. A rare, over-thinking specie, I may add.

Big, dark black eyes, some dark circles beneath them, chubby cheeks, long, black and wavy hair tied loosely in a pony tail and a dazzling smile. As she stared at the sun setting gracefully through the train’s window, her eyes traced the landscapes outside. An hour ago, she was beaming with joy to jump into this journey. She had her set of apprehensions, insecurities and fear to lose more on the self-respect that she was already compromising on, but, keeping everything in a suitcase and locking it, she wanted to at least pretend to be excited.

In exactly 60 minutes, that excitement of hopping on to a new journey was replaced by void of being quiet. In exactly 1200 seconds, that dazzling selfie smile that she had posted on her Facebook timeline was replaced by a pretentious and forced smile. To top it, one of her friends commented, Thank god you are here, Kiya. I could have never imagined being alone with Meera and Ishaan. They would have kept arguing and I would have died solving their issues.

‘… died solving their issues’. The statement hit Meera’s heart. While others laughed it off, Meera’s self respect did not let her even approve of this joke. She stared at Ishaan with her big, round eyes and didn’t shift her gaze till it had a big fat tear rolling down from them. He noticed her gaze and carefully ignored it.

He knew he could not focus on anything else but her innocent eyes, which demanded answers to many unanswered questions. As soon as those unanswered questions dropped from her eyes in the form of tears, Meera immediately looked outside and wiped them silently.

She had no clue how she would handle the situation she was stuck in, but being herself, she just couldn’t let anyone know of her weaknesses. She vehemently believed that sharing her problems would make her appear as someone who was miserable and she could not see sympathetic eyes looking at her. They burdened her with the fact that she wasn’t strong enough.

She hid those emotions, she hid those tears; she perhaps was hiding the true self that she was. When you enter a zone where you don’t trust yourself, that is when everything starts becoming unclear. Remember, brain and heart together function your body. For life to be slightly sorted, at least one of them has to be in place.

No one but Ishaan noticed her expressions as she turned towards eternal silence and saw the train pass through the outskirts of Delhi. That’s what the problem with Cancerians is – when they love, their love has no bounds, and they have already gone so far ahead in their head that they are just unable to turn back. They are gutsy to stay there. Meera gulped the angst and tried to accept things the way they were!

On the other hand, Ishaan pretended to join the discussion with his friends and tried steering it towards office, people and places. For once, he wanted to get up and give Meera a tight hug and tell her that he was there for her; for once he wanted to assure her of their friendship, but he didn’t. That is how he functioned. Logic, he said, was running in his nerves.

He always said he did not care; he always said he could replace people and he always mentioned bluntly how she was just another friend to him; but Meera was bent on ignoring those words, inferring from his actions instead. Who would consider such words when everything was so beautiful that the chances of what was happening right now were as bleak as rain on an absolutely sunny day.

How she wished that she had believed what he said.

Wiping that tear away, she remembered how miserably she had pleaded with him to stay normal in front of others. She knew she wouldn’t be able to take the sympathy of known eyes, the sympathy which would remind her that she was outrightly ignored by her best friend. There were some mistakes which she had made earlier, and now, when she started solving them, he had sworn to make some – just to add salt to their plain lives, you see!

‘Why do I have to expect his support? Get a hold of yourself, Meera, and accept that he won’t.’ She told herself as she blankly stared at kids playing on the outskirts of some village the train was passing by. ‘You have your work for a lifetime. Let’s focus on that. You are independent enough to take a stand for yourself.’

It would be a convenient option to judge Meera here, but, before judging her, let’s know her a bit more. She was popular amongst the youth for her confidence and glamour. Her listicles and blogs were read by over a lakh people daily, most of them in appreciation of her inspiring conversations and pictures. Her work was her strength and when people recognised her on the digital platforms, she felt proud of the hardwork she was putting in to chase her dreams. She was confident, happy and cheerful.

But then, Cut 2 – Here! She was being neglected, ignored and left alone. She had a thousand