Story with an undisclosed destination: It had been over a month since we’d dared to meet anywhere other than the university library amidst rows of books. Two souls caught in silent, stolen moments, this constraint tested us, driving us both to the edge. We needed a break—a breath of fresh air outside the watchful eyes of campus life.
The voting in Rajasthan was scheduled for tomorrow, which meant that Sisodiajee’s attention was wholly devoted to the last mile of connectivity and control of his election campaign. It was a test he must pass.
Chances were that today, we need not have worried about the prying eyes. So, we decided to venture to the lake, the unofficial lovers’ point of the city, for just a few hours of freedom.
Smitakshi looked radiant in her favourite red salwar kameez with a matching net dupatta. The subtle shimmer of artificial silver jewellery cast a soft glow against her fair skin. She seemed brighter and chirpier once we moved out of the university campus. I wore my usual outfit: a T-shirt, neat jeans, and blue NorthStar shoes. The evening was somehow special, even in its simplicity. Together, we could just be.
The evening at the lake was everything we’d missed—quiet and private, a time to talk freely, to laugh without holding back, to share our fear and confidence, and to be close without restraint. For a moment, we lost control and stole a few kisses under the broad canopy of trees. The world faded away for a while, leaving just the two of us and the gentle breeze skimming the lake.
But all good things have to come to an end. Well aware of the earlier warning and fearing the possibility, we left early enough not to miss the imposed deadlines for her to enter the hostel. Leading her towards our bike, on a whim, and I don’t know why, I said- “I want you to meet my mother”.
Her eyes widened, a combination of excitement and hesitation flickered across her face. “Are you sure?”. She was cautious and checking if I was serious.
“Yes,” I replied, trying to brush off my nervousness. I was not going to change my mind once I had placed my cards in the open.
She did not say anything other than once we were nearing my home when she again enquired if I was sure. I was still unsure if it was too early to make her meet my mother. What if she failed the test?
It wasn’t a planned meeting, and the surprise on my mother’s face said everything. She has also heard rumours, but I have not confided in her. She wasn’t prepared. I introduced them. My mother took a moment, giving Smitakshi a long look, before instructing me to step out. “I’d like a word with her alone,” she said, her tone calm yet holding an unspoken authority I dared not question.
Standing behind the door, through the thin walls of a middle-income household rented apartment, I overheard fragments of their conversation, each word sinking into me.
“So, Smitakshi,” my mother began, her voice careful and measured. “Are you in love with my son?”
I held my breath. Smitakshi’s voice rose, soft but clear. “Yes, I am.” There was confidence and clarity in that voice.
“And you want to marry him?” my mother asked, her voice hard to read.
“Yes,” she said again, her answer unwavering.
My mother didn’t pause, continuing with her line of questions. “Your father sent you here to study, not to fall in love. What do you think he’ll say?”
Smitakshi’s reply was simple but held a certain degree of vulnerability. “It happened. I came to study, but one can’t control one’s heart.”
A few beats passed in silence, and my mother pressed on, sounding sterner. “Do your parents know about this? Are they okay with it?”
There was a pause before Smitakshi answered. “No,” she admitted. “Neither of them knows. But my sister does, and she likes him.”
There was a shift in my mother’s voice as she replied, her tone serious and almost preachy. “Smitakshi, you’re young. College romance is often infatuation, and it is usually the girl who is targeted by people and shamed if things go wrong. And what makes you think my son will go against me if I ask him not to marry you?”
I missed a beat. This was not why I wanted Smitakshi to meet my mother. I heard Smitakshi chuckle softly. She replied calmly, which surprised even me. “That’s something only your son can answer- do check it out with him,” she said. “But I know he will find a way. He will marry me.”
That was my cue. I stepped in, half-smiled at them both, nodded to my mother, and told her it was time to move and drop Smitakshi at the hostel. Though the tension was palpable, it was still manageable. Smitakshi looked relieved but tired.
My mother asked us to wait. She went in and came back with a few flowers and tikka from the temple. She gave the flowers and a Ten rupee note to Smitakshi, saying, “May good things happen to you in life. Keep this: you have come home for the first time. Do concentrate on your studies and make your parents proud”. She applied a black kajal mark behind her ears. Smitakshi bent forward and touched my mother’s feet- a traditional way of demonstrating respect and liking for an elder. She knew she had passed the test.
Later that night, my mother called me into her room. She looked thoughtful, but there was a glimmer of something in her eyes that seemed to soften as she spoke. “She’s a nice girl, you know,” she said, almost as if to herself before her eyes met mine. “Don’t ever fail her. Don’t ever leave her.”
Her words stayed with me long after I’d left her room. It was an anchor I didn’t realise I needed. It meant approval and a command. Suddenly, the simple college romance turned into something long-term and positive. Our love had passed its first test, not in rebellion or defiance, but in a quiet, steadfast assurance that we were together, regardless of the obstacles that might come.
I fell asleep that night with a sense of resolve. I knew what I had to do, and the path seemed a little clearer for once. And with her love and confidence, I knew no test would be tough.
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This story with an undisclosed destination started as part of the @BlogChatter event #BlogChatterBlogHop, where I started weaving a story based on the weekly word prompts suggested by BlogChatter. However, after the 5th weekly prompt- Blogchatter took a break, but I continued to develop the story based on the prompts friends and readers suggested on social media. Do suggest some word prompts for the next chapter. And if you want ( which I wish you do) read the whole story- here are the rest of the chapters. https://sanjeevkotnala.com/category/story-undisclosed-destination/ and to start the first chapter – Rainy evening in a resort at Mukhteshwar
