Holding hands
Covered in fog, the road was all a blur, the light drizzle made the road shine with puddles reflecting the street lights. It was sufficiently cold for the last few days in December, and Maaya was enjoying her walk. The street lamps were shining hazily through the fog, as even the breath was a little cloud of vapour. This was her favourite part of winters, to let out pretend smoke with her visible breath in the cold winter days. Maaya looked around at the lively stillness of the season, taking in each and every detail and reminscing the lovely old days of childhood which came to her in whiffs, as intangible as this haze surrounding her.
Maaya's train of thoughts was halted by the heavy voice of Mridul, "You sure you wanna hold my hand like this only?"
Maaya looked onto her right to realize she had been holding Mridul's hand, fingers entwined with one another in a strong grip, his hand warm against her's.
"Yeah, I'm sure." Maaya shrugged. She raised her eyebrows in an attempt to ask Mridul, why he was asking the question in the first place.
"Tu normally aise nahi chalti, you're a little too touchy about touch aren't you? . . ." Mridul chuckled, he had known Maaya long enough to know her aversion to physical touch in general.
"Haan, to wo alag baat hai. I dont' like people touching me, or even holding my hands. But, tu baaki janta mei nahi aata na. Tu alag hai. Also, I am loving the warmth, you're my personal hand warmer." Maaya beemed a smile, that almost made her eyes close to form little slits as her grin stretched from ear to ear.
"Aisi baat hai?" Mridul looked at her, feeling a little amused. "Where's your other hand then, give me. I should do my job right, should'nt I?" Mridul took her other hand.
Maaya, with her left hand freezing cold in her pocket, hesitatingly let Mridul take it out. His warm hand enveloping around her cold one was a comforting relief, and somehow, her heart filled with a beautiful sense of serenity too, as she stood in front of Mridul. Her hands cupped in his, Maaya felt protected and safe not just from the chilly weather but also the world. In that moment, she was happy and at peace, except for the birds sound that was growing louder by the minute.
Maaya woke up in her bed, alone, but with warm hands and a fuzzy feeling of happiness leaving her dazed and happy for the day. It was another lucid dream, and a pleasant one at that. Maaya turned off her alarm of nature sounds and checked the time, then she typed a brief text before making her bed.
Had a dream, you were in it. (Message sent to Mridul)
Maaya wanted to go back to sleep, but she knew the day had begun and she had to get going.
Pondering over her dream from the morning Maaya wondered what it could have meant, did she like Mridul? Did Mridul like her? was their friendship her little cocoon of safety? Or was it all, just another of her dreams which held no logical meaning whatesoever?
None the less, she knew her bond with Mridul was special and that they both cherished it equally if not more. Some friendships are accidental, yet the most beautiful, and in case you lose track, the universe keeps you reminded of how special they are. Like it does for Maaya.
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