BOOM!
A firecracker splits the sky—gold, blue, and loud enough to shake the windows. It's Diwali.
Sneha watches from her window, puffing her cheeks in frustration.
"Why can't we go out?" she grumbles, arms crossed.
Ravi, sitting beside her on the floor, lazily munching on a soan papdi, replies without looking up,
"Dangerous. I guess."
Sneha throws herself back onto the bed, limbs sprawled like a defeated hero.
"Honestly, going out doesn't even feel fun anymore."
Ravi stays quiet. Always the listener. Always steady.
"I mean, what's the point," she mutters. "It's not like I get to choose anything. It's all up to them."
A pause. Then Ravi says, "Maybe... when we're older. We'll do what we want."
She perks up. "Yeah. When we're older."
Another pause. But this one buzzes.
She turns her head sharply, eyes bright. "Wait. That's it."
"…What is?" Ravi blinks.
"When we grow up—we go on a trip together! Just us! No adults, no rules."
"A trip?" He blinks again. "Together?"
She leans in, face dead serious. "Let's promise. You and me. When we're older, we'll go somewhere far. For real."
"A promise, huh…" Ravi mumbles, skeptical.
Sneha jabs out her pinky. "Swear it. Even if you forget, I won't."
Ravi looks at her hand for a long second.
Then links his pinky with hers.
Five Years Later
The room is dark. A single bulb flickers weakly in the corner.
Ravi sits hunched over in a cracked chair. Gaunt. Pale. His skin clings to bone.
He hasn't left this room in weeks.
KNOCK KNOCK.
"Ravi?" His father's voice from behind the door. "Can I come in?"
"…Yeah."
The door creaks open. His dad steps in slowly, holding a cup of tea.
"You know what today is?"
Ravi's voice is flat. "May 25. 2008."
His father hesitates. Then:
"It's her birthday. Sneha's."
Silence.
Ravi's fingers curl into his sleeves.
"So?"
His father watches him. "I just thought… maybe you'd want to do something. Or say something."
Ravi doesn't look at him.
"There's nothing to say. She moved away. She left."
A beat. Then his dad nods and quietly walks out.
Ravi stares at the wall. His eyes are dry. His throat isn't.
A voice flickers in his head—soft, clear, and warm:
"When you make a promise, keep it. Even if it hurts. That's what makes it real."
His mom's voice.
He shuts his eyes.
Opens them.
Then slowly—stands.
Shower. Bandages. Clean shirt. The ritual of the living.
An hour later, he opens his door.
His dad nearly drops his tea.
"…You okay?"
"Let's go," Ravi says.
"…Go where?"
"To her."
They drive under the summer sky. The road blurs in orange heat. Ravi stares out the window, silent.
His dad clears his throat. "So… what gift do you wanna bring her?"
Ravi smirks faintly. "You remember her nickname?"
His dad squints. "Uh… Aami? You used to call her that. Like mango, right?"
Ravi nods.
His dad grins. "Then we don't need a shop."
"Huh?"
"We're going to the mango farm."
Ravi looks at him.
"…You're serious?"
At the Farm
An old man in a lungi yells as they arrive.
"Ey! You dragged this boy outta his cave, huh?"
Ravi offers a sheepish smile. The man thumps his back like he's restarting an engine.
They walk through rows of mango trees glowing gold in the sun. His dad picks one and tosses it to him.
"Catch, city boy!"
"DAD—!"
bonk
Ravi groans. His dad is doubled over laughing.
"Someday," his dad says, wiping a tear, "you'll do this with your own kid."
Ravi mutters, "I need to talk to a girl first."
Evening – Sneha's House
By the time they reach her home, the party is winding down. Kids buzz around like sugar-powered bees.
Ravi walks in, gripping a plain cardboard box. Inside: a single mango, golden and ripe.
Relatives whisper:
"That's Ravi? He got so quiet…"
"He was always quiet. But he's different now."
Sneha appears from behind the curtain, drawn by the murmurs.
She freezes.
Ravi stands there, stiff and pale, holding the box like a lifeline.
Their eyes lock.
She smiles—wide and stunned.
He nods. Unsure.
She nods back. Brighter than fireworks.
Later, out back
Sneha crosses her arms.
"Idiot. Took you long enough."
"Yeah," Ravi says, "been a while."
"Since Diwali, dummy."
Ravi squints. "You remember that?"
"Of course. You mean you forgot?"
He pretends to think. "Wait, was that the time you cried for three days 'cause you slipped in the rain—"
WHACK
"OW! You're still violent."
"You're still annoying," she snaps.
They laugh. Then the air shifts.
She lowers her voice.
"…Ravi. That promise."
He stiffens. "Yeah. I was going to ask you the same thing."
She bites her lip. Then sighs.
"Well… I don't want to do it anymore."
His smile drops.
"…Oh."
He turns, quiet. Nods once.
"WAIT—!" she yells.
He stops.
"I don't want to do it alone, idiot," she says. "So you better not bail again."
Ravi turns. Slow. His expression cracks—just a little.
And then—he smiles.