Strings of Us

The car glided silently through the streets of Mumbai. Mehul sat quietly, his back straight, hands folded neatly in his lap. His eyes were fixed on the windows, marveling at the city-the tall buildings, glowing sign boards, and the endless stream of lights even though it was the middle of the night.

"Aapke shahar mein toh raat bhi hoti nahi hai," Mehul murmured, more to himself than to Shaurya.

Shaurya, who was checking a message on his phone, glanced at him. "Yeh sheher chalti hi raat mein hai, Mehul."

Mehul looked at him and then quickly averted his eyes, feeling shy again.

The car stopped in front of a tall glass building. The security guard at the gate saluted Shaurya, and the driver pulled into the private parking area. Mehul stepped out slowly, his eyes traveling up the height of the building.

"Yeh... yeh aapka ghar hai?"

Shaurya nodded. "Penthouse. Last floor."

Mehul didn't know what a penthouse was, but he didn't ask. He just followed Shaurya, holding the strap of his bag tightly.

The lift was large and sleek, its walls covered with mirrors. Mehul stared at his reflection in surprise-his slightly disheveled kurta, his tired eyes, and his own hesitant posture. He looked small, out of place.

Shaurya noticed his discomfort. "Relax, Mehul. Tum safe ho ab."

The words were simple, but they hit something deep inside him.

The lift dinged softly as it reached the top floor. They stepped into a long hallway, silent and carpeted, and Shaurya used his fingerprint to unlock the door at the end.

The door opened into a spacious, luxurious apartment-white walls, soft lighting, and a huge window overlooking the glittering city. The silence was calming, yet the space felt too big for Mehul.

Mehul stepped in slowly, like he was entering a temple. "Yeh... yeh toh rajmahal jaisa hai..."

Shaurya gave a small smile. "Bas ek ghar hai."

For you, maybe, Mehul thought, but didn't say it.

"Tum fresh ho jao," Shaurya said, pointing to a door. "Yeh guest room ka washroom hai. Kapde main de deta hoon."

Mehul hesitated. "Main... washroom use kaise-mera matlab... yeh sab samajh nahi aata."

Shaurya paused, then nodded. He walked him into the room and explained gently-how the taps worked, how to use the flush, the shower. Mehul listened carefully, a little embarrassed but grateful.

Shaurya brought a clean T-shirt and pyjamas from his wardrobe. "Thoda bada hoga tum par, but manage ho jaayega."

Mehul took the clothes carefully. "Thank you..."

As he closed the door behind him, Shaurya stood outside a moment longer, thoughtful.

Then he went to his own room and rubbed his eyes. The events of the day were finally catching up to him.

Inside the guest washroom, Mehul stood under the warm shower, letting the unfamiliar sensation soak through him.

He had never used such a thing before-water coming from above like rain, warm and comforting. His body, still stiff from the long day, began to loosen.

He scrubbed off the dirt and fear, the memories of that horrible night in the village, and let the newness of this place settle over his skin like a soft blanket.

When he came out, wearing Shaurya's oversized clothes, he looked even smaller-his thin frame almost swimming in the shirt. But his face looked a little fresher, his hair damp and curling over his forehead. He peeked out of the room hesitantly.