Chapter 7
Invitation
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Nitin had a strange nightmare, at least it wasn’t like the visions he had had in some past days. Sleeping was easy that night. The jolt had reduced him to a limping skeleton.
He woke up still thinking about the permission slip. Just one sign could change future. He mouth immediately went bitter. Why didn’t Vyom sign the form?
Vyom’s startled face came back in his mind. Whatever dreams he had been having, they were true. At least some of them. But why now? He had never had any vision of his mother. No photographs, nothing. That day was the first time he had seen Mansa. Her green eyes worried him again. After a hard struggle against the luring bed, Nitin finally got up.
He got dressed and went down the stairs to the kitchen.
It was a simple kitchen, with white furnishings all over. Vyom had told him that the kitchen was the result of Mansa’s dream. Mansa…he was afraid of that name now.
His father wasn’t there, he usually was. Nitin sat down on the round white table. His breakfast lay covered. He doesn’t want to talk with me.
With a dread, he finished his sandwich.
Vyom wasn’t a type of person who could express his feelings very clearly. And so was Nitin. He always had to think before speaking, making sure the words he was going to use were correct, and that it didn’t sound rude to anyone. And that thing had caused him enough trouble. But still the same.
At seven thirty, he boarded the yellow bus, and immediately fell on the aisle.
“Watch your steps, Nitin,” grumbled from the seat next to him.
The whole bus burst into laughter. Nitin tried to remain calm. He was not going to leave him. Just let us them reach school.
Forcing back his bitter face, he got up and dusted off his clothes. The bus zoomed, and Nitin thudded forward and broke his nose. His ears met with double the gale he had heard before. So good of laws of Physics…
He had a window seat. There was nothing for him except to enjoy the scenery outside. Halfway to their school, Nishant boarded and sat next to him.
“You look gloomy,” he commented.
“Nothing.” He clearly declared he didn’t want to walk. But among many things that he endured in his school life was the boy next to him. Not even a minute had passed, and he stroke up a conversation.
History was taunting. Mrs. Rani Meetu collected the slips from his fellows. Nitin looked around. Excluding some geeks and some pessimistics, everyone else was lining up in the queue. Lokesh sent him a snare while returning to his seat. Even Top Third Tisha Gupal was going to Srinagar.
He would never forgive Vyom.
It was time for Lokesh to hand out his invitation cards. Nitin was sure he wasn’t going to get one, but, to his utter amazement, Lokesh approached his desk and said, “You can come, if you want, Nitu, I don’t loathe you.” That was unexpected.
Lokesh had had a terrible accident recently, and he came to school with his plastered hand slung by a sling curving behind his neck. The plaster barely had any space left for further ‘Get Well Soon’s. And Lokesh had a good reason to seat at last and do nothing except what he usually does.
Anyhow, Nitin accepted the invitation. He would think whether he really go that evening, granting Vyom won’t feel betrayed.
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Nitin reached home at three. He finished his homework in a jiffy, completed one of the boring FAs they gave these days and downloaded some information on Bulk Phenomena.
Next, he placed the invitation on the table, and began thinking.
It was a blue hand made sheet invitation, with a Dear Nitin on front.
Date: 29 April
Time: From 7 to whichever time you want to stay
Venue: Thakur Manor, 23rd Square Road, Vijayanagar.
That would leave him with one hour of stay. Vijayanagar wasn’t much far away. He could hire a taxi and reach there in ten minutes.
He had to return before Vyom.
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“How much?”
“Thirty.”
Nitin paid and stepped over the sidewalk. The sun had dissolved in the sky tingeing it red. Thakur Manor was the biggest building in the neighborhood. Bordered by a thick cream-colored wall, the Manor stood after several yards of lawn. The gate itself was immense. The building was double storey with colonial architecture. The windows gleamed with red tint. Nitin crossed the pathway and arrived to the veranda. Apparently, everyone had already been hosted b Lokesh. Nitin could see many cars in the parking lot. He viewed his cadeaux again. Was it too small?
Nitin wondered what if everyone else bought him Xboxes and PSs. His gift would be nothing in front of them. He wasn’t Lokesh’s friend, and there was no need for him to buy him a posh present.
As soon as he opened the door and entered the threshold, night fell and CDs began to play.
The hall was glittering with flash lights, though mostly it was dark. A huge club ball swung above. Music blared and echoed throughout the house. Nitin could recognize many of the figures from the school. Some might be Lokesh’s neighborhood friends. Food tables lined the walls. Anyone came anytime, picked up some pizza and moved on to dance or chatter in a corner. Most of them were laughing.
Adults, clearly, were not allowed to disturb the party. Every door leading further into the house was closed.
Nitin saw Lokesh near the speakers, chatting with his group. Over in a corner, a huge table was crammed with shiny boxes. Nitin gave a sigh of relief. His box wasn’t small. Depositing the box over the table, Nitin moved on to Lokesh.
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