“I don’t need this!” She tried to push him away.
“Use it, Ava.” He commanded. She looked at him. In shock? Or in rage? Samarth gulped, opening his mouth to take his words or at least, his tone back.
“Faaaine,” she rolled her eyes. And surprisingly, her skipping mellowed. Samarth sighed in relief. The ground had become slippery with the sudden drizzle. But as he looked around himself, he couldn’t believe this was real — trees and grasslands and the Himalayas all around them. And flowers bursting to life like a carpet under their feet. The sun came out again and the drizzle slowed, leaving the most surreal combination of sunshine and mist.
What was this beauty?
“Had this place been like this before Vishnu Bhagwan did tapasya here or Laxmiji made it like this?” Ava echoed his thoughts. Samarth caught up with her — “Only a woman can work this magic.”
“Right answer!” She nudged his shoulder with hers. Samarth stumbled, laughing, and found himself half falling over a dense outgrowth of blue flowers — beautiful light blue flowers the colour of frozen skies, now covered in fresh dew. He reached for one lying broken atop a bed of greens and turned to Ava. She was laughing at him.
When her eyes fell on the flower in his hand, her laugh slowly drained.
What remained was an awed expression. She chuckled, swallowing, looking at anything but at him — “Trying to impress me with a flower now…” she clawed her hair back from her forehead, fluffing it, her feet moving away. Samarth glanced at their friends. They were far down on the trail.
He reached out, grabbed her hand and slowly nudged her closer. She came. So he pulled her tighter until she was flush with him, her chin on his chest, her face tilted up to meet his eyes. Her big brown eyes were just as dewy as the blue flower in his hand — a mix of so much. He wasn’t a great reader of emotions. He could understand them in people, but not always name them. With Ava, he knew it was a mix of fear and expectation.
So he took this step to see if he could tide over her fear.
“Are you ready for our long time, Ava?” He asked. “Because that’s what I have been feeling every time you come to me.”
She scratched her eyebrow, waving something off. He laughed. How was she so adorable and how had it only been two weeks since he had begun noticing it? Samarth was still fangirling over these tiny gestures of hers when she grabbed the flower from his hand. He startled.
“You are not as bright as they think you are,” she asserted and gave him the best insult of his life.
“So?” His eyes widened.
“So what?”
“Say it. Yes or no.”
“I just said, bro!”
“I’m not your bro.”
“I said it, Samarth.”
“Yes or no, Ava.”
She sputtered — “Yes. Y for Yak, E for Elephant, S for… Samarth. Yes. Fine? Still need me to write it somewhere and show y… aah!” She squealed as he grabbed her around the waist and spun her in circles. It was like spinning a child. She hadn’t put on anynew muscle mass or height since they were kids. She had the strength to do some damage to him but here she was again, his to spin. To elicit a laugh.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you…” he whispered to her as he held her poised over himself, half-suspended in the air.
“For what?” She panted, laughing.
“For accepting so much of me.”
“Thank you back.”
“For what?”
“For converting into sev-on-poha,” she twined her arms around him and buried her face in his shoulder, laughing so loud that he had no other option but to keep twirling, spreading the sounds of her joy through this valley of Badrinath’s flowers.
8. Love Bombing
Samarth entered the school Monday morning with big hopes. He ran up the stairs and down the corridor, earlier than usual. The bustle of students standing outside classrooms, chatting, some half-asleep, some dancing around like they had been high all night, crossed his path. Samarth greeted all those he knew, nodded at those he didn’t but who came to say hi, handing out high-fives to juniors or seniors or friends. Being on the Polo Club and getting selected back-to-back for tournaments put him on the ‘famous’ list. Being a prince added to it.
Samarth though, was out for one particular princess today. He skidded to a stop outside the classroom, schooled his features, clawed his fingers up the hair falling on his forehead. It didn’t stay put, and fell back down. He just pushed it to the left, hoping it didn’t look too bad. Then he took a deep breath and rounded the entryway and stepped inside the class. His eyes went straight to the corner row by the door, third bench. And halted.