Ashutosh Gupta

Okay, so this is going to sound a little crazy, but hear me out.

I think I finally understand Wanda.

Not the Scarlet Witch, but Wanda the person. The girl who had already lost so much that when she finally got something that felt like a normal life, she became terrified of losing it again. She had lost her parents, her brother, and then Vision, the person she loved the most. And the worst part was that she had to lose him twice. I do not know how much pain a person can carry before something inside them just quietly says, bas bhai, ab nahi ho raha. Maybe Wanda had simply reached that point.

When I first watched WandaVision, I thought Westview was just another crazy Marvel storyline where someone had become too powerful and decided to create problems for the entire world. But slowly I started understanding what she had actually done. She was not trying to become a queen or conquer the world. She did not want money or fame. She created a house, a husband, two children and a boring suburban life. She wanted to wake up next to Vision, argue with him about stupid things, watch her children grow up and experience the kind of normal life most of us do not realise is precious until it is gone.

She had the power to create almost anything in the universe and chose a small house in a small town. There is something almost funny about that. Give a person unlimited power and eventually they may just ask for everyone to come home for dinner.

And bhai, if someone gave me Wanda's power, I do not think I would be any better. I know she trapped an entire town inside her reality and yes, obviously, that is wrong. Those people did not ask to become extras in Wanda's personal sitcom. But if someone gave you the ability to change reality, not to become rich or powerful, but simply to bring back the things you had lost, would you really have the strength to say no? I honestly do not think I would. Main toh pehle apna Westview banaunga, baad mein morality ka lecture sun lunga.

And my Westview probably would not be anything extraordinary either. I would not need a palace or a perfect city where everyone walks around smiling like they have just won a toothpaste advertisement. I would probably just want a normal life. A house where the people I love are still around, friends who have not slowly disappeared because life got busy, people who still call without needing a reason, and evenings where nobody is thinking about the next EMI, promotion, interview or responsibility.

Maybe just a dinner table where everyone is sitting together and nobody is secretly checking their phone while saying, "Haan haan, I am listening." A life where nobody is in a hurry to become something.

Because that is the part nobody really tells you about growing up. You spend your childhood thinking adulthood means freedom, money and making your own decisions. Then you grow up and realise it mostly means having passwords for things you do not understand and worrying about things your younger self had never even heard of.

Your friends get jobs in different cities, someone gets married, someone moves abroad, someone becomes busy, someone changes. And most of the time there is not even a dramatic reason for it. No fight, no betrayal, no final conversation. Life just gets crowded, and people who were once part of your everyday life slowly become occasional calls, birthday messages and Instagram stories.

The strange thing is that you can still remember their favourite song, their stupid habits and exactly how they used to laugh, while having absolutely no idea what is happening in their life now.

Sometimes a song, an old photograph or some completely random memory can take you back there for a few minutes, and suddenly you are living in a version of your life that does not exist anymore. I have done that more times than I would like to admit. I have replayed conversations and wondered if different words could have changed something. I have thought about people I should have held on to longer and choices I understood differently only later.

That is probably the closest we get to Wanda's magic. We cannot change reality, so our brain changes it for a few minutes and then leaves us alone with the consequences.

And then there are some memories that do not really have an ending. Those are the difficult ones. When something ends properly, at least you know where to put the full stop. Sometimes life gives you three dots... and leaves you wondering whether the story ended or whether you are just waiting for a chapter that is not coming.

Maybe that is why certain people stay in our minds much longer than they stay in our lives. Zoya is one of those memories for me. Not because I want to turn the whole thing into some dramatic story about one person, but because sometimes a person becomes connected to an entire version of who you were. You do not necessarily miss them every day. Sometimes you just miss the person you were when they were around.

And maybe that is what makes life difficult. We never know which ordinary moment is going to become a memory. The last time you sit with your friends without knowing it is the last time. The last random conversation. The last trip. The last time someone calls just because they wanted to talk.

If we knew, we would probably pay more attention. We would stay a little longer, take the photograph instead of saying, "Arre baad mein le lenge," and say what we actually wanted to say because we would know there was not going to be a baad mein. But life does not give us that information. It just keeps moving, and eventually we have to move with it.

That is where Wanda and I are different. She had the power to stop the world. I have a job. Which, depending on the day, is honestly worse. I still have to wake up, go to work, think about money, career, future, expectations and all the other wonderful adult things nobody mentioned when they were selling us adulthood. I have to make decisions without knowing if they are right and accept that some things I want may never happen.

That is why I cannot completely blame Wanda. She could not bear the life she had been given, so she created one she could bear. If I had her power, I would probably create mine too.

But then Wanda realises something important. Her Westview is perfect because she controls it. Vision does not get to choose. Her children do not get to choose. The people of Westview do not get to choose. Everyone is living inside Wanda's idea of happiness, and suddenly something that looked like heaven starts looking like a prison.

That is the problem with trying to control life. You can remove the uncertainty, but you also remove the freedom that makes everything real.

And I think that is why I would not stay in my Westview forever. I would create it, obviously. I am not going to pretend I am noble enough to reject magic if it offered me everyone I have lost. I would probably stay there for a while and enjoy the hell out of it.

But eventually I would have to walk out, because I do not want people to stay because I made them stay. I want them to choose me. I want friends to call because they want to. I want people to stay because, despite everything life throws at us, they still decide that I am worth showing up for.

A real relationship has the possibility of ending, and maybe that is exactly what makes the time you get with someone matter.

I do not think I have a neat answer for any of this. I still miss people. I still think about certain friendships and decisions, especially when the night gets quiet and my brain decides it has unfinished business. But I do not think I need to rewrite everything either. The life I imagined when I was younger was never a promise; it was only one possible version of what my life could become. Some things worked out, some did not, some people stayed and some left, and somewhere along the way, I changed too.

Maybe that is why I understand Wanda, but do not want to become her. I understand wanting to go back. I understand wanting to keep something before it changes. I understand wishing you could have five more minutes with a person, a place, a friendship or even an older version of yourself.

But if I could actually build that world, I think I would eventually want to leave it.

Not because it was not beautiful.

Because it was never real.

Somewhere between a Tatkal ticket, a shared shawl and a sleepless train journey, my friend found himself in a Bollywood movie. Unfortunately, life had a different ending in mind.

I have known this boy since our college days. Calling him my male protagonist feels a little funny because he was never the kind of person who imagined himself being part of a story, let alone a romantic one. He was too simple, too carefree and too happy with whatever life had to offer. He laughed loudly, lived lightly and never really bothered about things that the rest of us spent sleepless nights over. Maybe that was the secret to his happiness.

Meanwhile, there is me, who can spend an entire Tuesday afternoon overthinking whether I should breathe fast or slow.

He joined our college when I was in my second year, and somewhere between the usual college nonsense and endless conversations, we became good friends. By the time we graduated, we had become one of those friendships that did not need daily calls or good morning messages to survive. We could go two months without speaking, and one random phone call would somehow cover everything that had happened in our lives since we last spoke.

After college, he moved to Chandrapur for career reasons, and our conversations became occasional phone calls about Career, relationships and the future that neither of us had figured out.

But last week, he called me and told me a story so ridiculously filmy that, for the first time, I felt genuinely jealous of him.

Not the usual jealousy of seeing a friend get promoted or buy a new car. This was different. He had somehow walked into a love story while the rest of us were still walking alone on the footpath of life, earphones plugged in, listening to sad songs and pretending we were perfectly fine.

And the funniest part? This was the same guy who, back in college, probably could not have explained what being in love actually felt like.

So, here it is. Day 1 in Udaipur. Not mine, but theirs.

How it all began

There was a girl. No names here because some stories look prettier without labels.

My friend had met her once or twice in Pune through work. Just formal work meetings, nothing particularly romantic. But when he started talking about her during our call, I could tell something was different. There was an excitement in his voice that even he could not quite hide.

He had fallen for her, and from the way he described everything, he had fallen badly.

"Bhai, sambhal jaa. People do stupid things once they catch feelings," I warned him.

Of course, he did not listen. Love has a way of turning even the most sensible people into interns in their own lives.

A group of seven or eight people from his workplace had planned a trip to Udaipur. And, as luck would have it, she was going too. She was travelling a day earlier than the rest of the group, and somehow, my friend managed to get a Tatkal ticket on the exact same train.

"Kehte hain agar kisi cheez ko dil se chaho, toh poori kaaynat tumhe usse milane ki koshish mein lag jaati hai."

For once, I think Shah Rukh Khan was right.

The girl, being a responsible woman of this century, had boarded the train armed with pepper spray and all the necessary precautions. But when she saw my friend, the safety measures quietly found their way back into her bag. At least, that is how I imagine the scene.

He had not met her in almost a year, and the moment he saw her, he hugged her. He told me he froze. Completely. Could not speak, could not think, of anything else in that moment

Eventually, like an old Windows XP computer rebooting, he regained consciousness and started asking her about her journey and family. They even stepped off the train for a while to meet her parents, who had come to drop her off.

He told me he felt privileged to meet her family. Privileged. I do not think I have heard him use that word with such sincerity before.

When the train started moving again, he felt as if someone had pressed the Resume Happiness button in his life after almost a year.

Somewhere along the way, they met a Gujarati family, the kind that adopts complete strangers within five minutes. Soon, they were being offered khakhra, thepla, achar and probably everything else the family had packed for the journey.

My friend, being my friend, got into a philosophical discussion with them about love, money and power. I suspect he was trying to impress her, although he would probably deny it.

She kept smiling at him from the corner of her eye. And while she slept peacefully, he stayed awake, making sure she was comfortable and warm.

He told me he even wished the train would never reach Udaipur.

Imagine liking someone so much that a crowded train compartment and an uncomfortable seat feel like luxury. But trains do not wait for lovers, not even in my friend's story.

They reached Udaipur early in the morning. The Gujarati family, not yet finished with their kindness, even arranged a cab for them. The driver dropped them a little before their destination because vehicles were not allowed beyond a certain point.

And just like that, my friend found himself with an opportunity to walk a kilometre with the girl he had been thinking about for so long.

Now, this is a man who genuinely hates walking. But when I asked him about that particular kilometre, he said, "Bro, I hate walking, but that one kilometre? I have never walked so happily in my life."

Hand in hand, through the unfamiliar streets of Udaipur, with the cold morning air brushing against their faces.

An old friendship, a new city and feelings that neither of them had quite figured out yet.

[Image: A morning walk through Udaipur]

The city, the shawl and everything in between

They checked into their hostel, freshened up and headed out to explore the city.

"Bro, I was carrying her bag, holding her hand and walking through the beautiful streets," he told me.

At this point, I genuinely considered throwing my phone out of the window. There is only so much romance a single person can listen to without questioning his own life decisions.

They explored cafes, wandered through markets and visited the lakesides. But from what he told me, Udaipur was almost irrelevant. He was too busy noticing her laughter, her expressions and all those little things that you begin to notice when you genuinely like someone.

By evening, they returned to their hostel and went up to the terrace to enjoy the night view of Udaipur. The cold breeze, the distant lights and the quiet rooftops made for a rather perfect setting.

Somewhere along the way, they ended up sharing a shawl. He told me he did not even realise when it happened. I do not know whether it was the cold or simply the comfort of being around each other, but he seemed to have found happiness in the smallest of things.

And yet, when he spoke about these moments, there was something I could not quite understand.

He was so certain about his feelings, but I wondered whether he knew what she felt about him. Her smiles and the time they spent together clearly meant a lot to him, but I could not tell whether they meant the same thing to her.

I did not ask. Sometimes, you let your friends enjoy their happiness without bringing reality into every conversation.

The next day, the rest of their friends joined them, and the trip became the usual group adventure. Bike rides, photographs, street food, laughter and sunsets.

For everyone else, it was probably just another weekend getaway. For him, however, Udaipur had already become something else. He was exploring the city through her laughter, her energy and her presence. The photographs were probably just an excuse to remember the moments they had spent together.

I have known this guy for years. I have heard him laugh and complain about his career, his job and all the usual problems that come with adulthood. But I had never heard him this happy.

And then came the part of every trip that nobody particularly looks forward to.

The journey back home.

The last train

Returning from a trip is always strange. You board the same kind of train, sit on a similar seat and watch familiar landscapes slowly replace the unfamiliar ones.

You return with the same luggage, the same responsibilities and the same unfinished work waiting for you. But sometimes, you bring back a few memories that you know you will revisit long after the trip is over.

For my friend, the return journey was supposed to be simple. Two tickets, two seats and a few hours of travelling back to their respective lives.

But destiny, apparently, was not finished writing its screenplay.

Only one ticket got confirmed. Neither of them was particularly happy about it, although they tried to act normal.

She eventually fell asleep, and he found himself sitting beside her, watching over her as the train rattled along the tracks.

He told me, "Bro, uska soya hua chehra dekh ke lag raha tha ki duniya yahin ruk jaye."

Every love story needs a villain, and my friend got a railway Ticket Checker.

The man started tapping her shoulder. Once. Twice. And then again.

"Ticket dikhao."

My friend was understandably irritated. How dare someone disturb a sleeping beauty?

He handled the checking himself, quietly explained that she was sleeping and sent the villain of the night on his way.

He did not sleep after that. He just sat beside her, trying to hold on to a night that was already slipping away.

"That night ended too fast, bro. Maine zindagi mein koi raat itni jaldi guzarte hue nahi dekhi."

And before he could make sense of it all, morning arrived.

The stations started appearing, announcements echoed through the compartment, and the first rays of sunlight entered the train.

She woke up gradually, rubbing her eyes, unaware of how much he had been thinking about that journey.

And then came the goodbye.

No dramatic dialogue. No background music. No running behind a departing train. Just a small smile, a soft nod and a hesitant wave.

He wanted her to stop him. Perhaps he wanted her to ask him to stay a little longer, or perhaps he simply wanted a reason to say something that he had been holding back for so long.

But he could not bring himself to speak.

And she did not stop him either.

He walked away, occasionally looking back, carrying all those unsaid words with him.

The train journey was over, Udaipur was behind him, and the girl who had made those two days so special was now standing somewhere in the distance.

He told me he felt a strange heaviness in his chest, as if all the words he had wanted to say had gathered inside him, and he did not know what to do with them.

Sometimes, the most difficult goodbyes are the ones where neither person knows what to say.

[Image: The morning goodbye]

The part I forgot to mention

Now, if this were a Bollywood movie, this would probably be the part where the hero returns to his city, the girl realises what she has lost, and a beautiful Arijit Singh song starts playing in the background.

Unfortunately, my friend was not starring in a Bollywood movie.

There is a rather important detail that I have conveniently left out of this entire story.

Yes, after all the unexpected train journeys, the shared shawls, the romantic walks through Udaipur and the sleepless nights, our male protagonist finally decided to confess his feelings.

And the girl said no.

Cut to the background music suddenly stopping.

I wish I could tell you that I was sitting there with tears in my eyes, feeling completely heartbroken for my friend. And honestly, I was a little sad for him. Nobody likes seeing a friend get rejected, especially when you know how genuinely happy that person had been.

But I also have a reputation to maintain.

Knowing this guy since college, I immediately realised that this was not just a heartbreak. This was a story that was going to entertain us for the next twenty years.

Every time someone mentions Udaipur, every time we discuss relationships, or every time he tries to give someone romantic advice, there is now a very good chance that this particular chapter of his life will make an unexpected appearance.

But jokes apart, I genuinely felt for him.

Behind all the humour and teasing, there was a boy who had experienced something that meant a great deal to him. He had liked someone, gathered the courage to express his feelings and accepted an answer that was not what he had hoped for.

And there is nothing embarrassing about that.

She had every right to say no, just as he had every right to tell her how he felt.

Not every beautiful connection turns into a relationship, and not every story needs a happy ending.

My friend is now back in Chandrapur, carrying all those memories with him. The train journey, the morning walk, the terrace, the shared shawl and the city that he will probably never look at the same way again.

He might eventually move on, meet someone else and create a completely different story for himself. But I hope he never loses the courage to be this happy or to express what he feels.

Because sometimes, even when things do not work out, the experience itself becomes a part of who you are.

And as for me, I am just glad he told me this story.

Twenty years from now, when we are sitting together, complaining about our jobs, responsibilities and how quickly life has passed us by, I can already imagine myself casually asking him whether he remembers that one trip to Udaipur.

He will probably tell me to shut up.

But that is the beauty of friendship. You are there for your friends when life does not go their way, you listen to their heartbreaks, genuinely wish the best for them, and then remind them of their most embarrassing romantic adventures for the rest of their lives.

Some friendships are built on shared memories. Ours will probably be built on Udaipur.

He went to Udaipur hoping to find a love story. He returned with a heartbreak, a lifetime of memories and, unfortunately for him, a friend who is never going to let him forget any of it.

And somewhere in all of this, I am still the same guy who overthinks whether he should breathe fast or slow on a Tuesday afternoon, wondering how my carefree college friend managed to experience an entire romantic drama while I was busy overthinking my own existence.

Life is unfair, I suppose.

But at least this time, I have a very entertaining story to tell.

It was supposed to be a normal night, nothing special, just one of those last meets before life quietly pulls everyone in different directions and you pretend it’s fine even when somewhere inside you already know it’s not.

It was me, Aarav, Kavya and Rohan, all of us leaving the city the next day for jobs, different cities, different lives, so this was like a final pause before everything changes, and you could feel it in the way we were talking a little more than usual, laughing louder than needed, like if we kept the noise going the silence inside wouldn’t catch up to us. We didn’t have a plan, we just got into the car and started driving, Rohan at the wheel, me in the front, Aarav and Kavya at the back talking nonsense that only feels funny when you’re twenty two and with people who know you too well.

At some point Rohan said we might have missed a turn, very casually at first, so he drove ahead, slowed down, reversed a little, then paused again, and this time something in his voice changed, like even he wasn’t sure what he was seeing anymore. I looked outside properly then, and something felt wrong instantly, not confusing wrong but physically wrong, like something in the world had been moved without telling us, because the turn we were supposed to take wasn’t just hidden, it was gone, like it had never existed, and where the road should have continued there was just this dense forest, too dense, like a wall, and the worst part was we had just come from that side minutes ago and there was no forest then. Rohan got out and I followed, and the silence outside didn’t feel calm, it felt incomplete, like standing in a place that wasn’t fully real, and inside the car Aarav and Kavya were watching us, waiting for an explanation we didn’t have.

And then suddenly the empty silence broke because people came running out of the trees, screaming, banging on the car, the kind of panic that doesn’t look fake, it looked like they were running for their lives, and before we could even react one of them reached through the slightly open window and scratched Aarav’s arm badly, Kavya screaming, everything happening too fast, but the part that didn’t make sense, the part that stayed with me, was that me and Rohan were standing right there, just a few feet away from the car, and not a single one of them looked at us, not once, not even by accident, like we weren’t even there, like we didn’t exist in whatever reality they were trapped in.

For a second I actually looked down at myself, like maybe I was missing something, like maybe I wasn’t really there either. I shouted at Rohan to get back in the car and we both rushed inside without thinking, doors slamming shut, my hands shaking as I told him to reverse, just reverse, and the moment the car rolled back onto the road, those people didn’t run or step away, they just vanished, instantly, like someone had erased them mid-moment.

After that we kept driving, thinking maybe we would find our way back, maybe things would go normal again, but they didn’t, the road just kept looping, the same stretch, the same turns, again and again, and at some point Aarav quietly said the fuel hadn’t moved. We all looked at it then, properly this time, and it just stayed there, full, unmoving, no matter how long we drove, and no one said anything after that because saying it out loud would make it real.

After a while we stopped again, and this time all of us stepped out, mostly because sitting inside that same car for so long was starting to feel worse than whatever was outside. For a few seconds nothing happened and it almost felt normal, like maybe we had imagined everything, but then somewhere around a minute later we heard it again, the same distant screaming from inside the trees, faint at first but getting closer in a way that makes your chest tighten without knowing why, and we rushed back in without even speaking. The next time we tried, we stayed out less, watching the timer on the phone, and again, right around that same moment, the sound started. That’s when it settled in, slowly and quietly, like something you don’t want to accept, that we could step out, but not for long, that there was a limit, and if we crossed it, they would come back. After that it stopped feeling like a guess and started feeling like a rule, so we began timing it, stepping out for short breaks, counting seconds, getting back in before the world around us changed again.

The strange part is after a while we stopped being afraid, or maybe we just got used to it, which is worse, because even something like this becomes routine if it doesn’t end. We didn’t feel hungry, didn’t feel sleepy, we just kept moving, and the road kept repeating itself like it didn’t care how long we had been there. Hours passed, or maybe days, it was impossible to tell, the same silence, the same empty stretch, again and again until it stopped feeling like we were going somewhere and started feeling like we were just stuck in motion. Aarav’s voice got quieter over time, Kavya stopped reacting to things the way she used to, their conversations became shorter, then rare, and I noticed it, I think I did, but I didn’t do anything about it, because some part of me had already shifted to something else.

Then one day we saw another car, just standing there on the side, empty, abandoned, and when we checked the odometer it showed a number that didn’t make sense, something like a lifetime of driving, and none of us spoke for a long time after that, because we all understood what it meant without saying it. That was when Rohan started changing, he spoke less, his eyes stayed on the road longer than necessary, like he was looking for something he already knew he wouldn’t find. And then one day he just stopped the car, stepped out, and didn’t check the time. We shouted for him, told him to come back, but he just looked at us and smiled in this tired way, like he had already accepted something we were still trying to fight, and he said quietly that there’s no end to this road, and then he walked into the trees and didn’t come back.

After that we kept moving as people emerged from the forest as rohan walked towards them, but something inside me shifted completely. I became fixated on reaching the end, like if I just kept going long enough everything would make sense again, like the world would fix itself if I just didn’t stop. I started driving harder, taking fewer breaks, ignoring Aarav and Kavya when they tried to talk, and somewhere in between their voices started fading, not suddenly, just slowly, like conversations getting shorter, responses turning into nods, then into silence. There were moments when I would realize no one had spoken for a long time, and I would almost say something, but then the road would pull my attention back again.

I don’t know exactly when it happened, and that’s the worst part, because one day I just turned around to say something and the backseat was empty. No sound, no sign of when Aarav and Kavya left, no memory of them stepping out, just gone, like they were never there in the first place. And I didn’t even stop immediately. That’s what stayed with me. I just kept driving for a while, like reaching the end still mattered more than the fact that they were no longer there

Somewhere in between all this my mind kept drifting to Zoya, and I don’t know why but the feeling of this road felt exactly like what I had with her, always waiting for the right time, expecting clarity to come someday, thinking things will fall into place if I just keep going, and slowly realizing there was nothing coming, no right time, no moment where everything suddenly makes sense, just you moving forward because you don’t know how to stop.

After days I saw more cars over time, hundreds of them, maybe more, all empty, like everyone else had come this far chasing the same idea, and then finally the road actually ended. There were rows of cars parked there, silent, abandoned, and beyond that there was just nothing, no exit, no explanation, just the end of the asphalt like the world itself had given up.

I got out and sat on the hood for a long time and for the first time there was no sound, no movement, no one coming out of the forest like they used to every time we stopped before, just silence, and it didn’t feel peaceful, it felt heavy, like something sitting on my chest that I couldn’t push away, because suddenly it all caught up to me at once, Rohan was gone, and somewhere along the way Aarav and Kavya had disappeared too, not in one moment, not suddenly, just slowly, so slowly that I cannot even remember when they stopped being there, and that is what hurts the most, not losing them, but not even noticing when disappeared.

I kept thinking I was moving forward, that I was getting closer to something that would make all of this make sense, but I never once stopped to look beside me, never once asked if the people with me were still there or already slipping away, and now I am here at the end and there is nothing waiting for me, nothing except the realization that I reached somewhere, somewhere where I wanted to reach.

And that is when it stopped feeling like just a strange road and started feeling like life, because you keep telling yourself that once you reach a certain point you will slow down, you will fix things, you will call people, you will sit with them, you will finally be present, but you don’t, you just keep going, thinking there is still time, thinking they will still be there when you are ready, and without realizing it you trade moments for milestones until one day you have the milestone but no one left to share it with.

Rohan was the first to leave the car because he reached a point where he accepted the truth instead of resisting it. When he saw the endless loop, the abandoned cars, and the pattern that never changed, something in him settled. He wasn’t confused anymore. He understood.

Aarav and Kavya didn’t make a loud decision like Rohan, and they didn’t chase the road like the I. They simply stayed… and slowly disconnected.

They didn’t leave me in a single moment. They disappeared gradually, almost invisibly, because the I stopped noticing them while focusing on the road.

And the people running out of the forest weren’t random. They were the ones who had already stepped out of their Car journey earlier, just like Rohan.

At some point, they must have made the same choice walk away, stop chasing, accept that the road had no end. But what came after that wasn’t peace. It was something worse. Regret.

Their behavior says everything. They didn’t attack like predators. They came running, screaming, reaching out, almost like they were desperate to get inside the car.

Leaving the road didn’t free them… now they want another chance.

That’s why they only appear when the car stops. Because stopping is the only moment when you become like them outside the journey, vulnerable, uncertain. And they try to pull you into that same state.

Sitting there I understood something very simply but very painfully, that some things are not taken away from you, they fade because you stopped holding on, because you got distracted chasing something that felt important at the time, and by the time you look back it is already too late, just like Zoya, just like everything that quietly leaves while you are busy planning when to live, and when it finally hits you, it does not come with noise or drama, it comes like this, in silence, when you are already too far to return and all you are left with is the weight of knowing that you chose the road but lost the people who made the journey worth it.

I don’t know why this thought came to me suddenly. But that night, I was just sitting alone. Scrolling aimlessly, no one around, just a massive void. This one question started popping in my head again and again Where exactly am I going in life? What is that one thing I actually want? Why all these struggles and sacrifices?

And honestly, I had no answers. Just like half of us, I was just travelling on the local train of life same track, same stops, zero clarity.

Have you ever just sat somewhere quietly and taken a proper peaceful breath? I did, thinking about my future. Like, really paused. Because when I tried doing that, this old song from the movie Guide started playing automatically in my head “Wahan kaun hai tera, musafir? Jaayega kahaan?” I don’t know what it is about that song… the tune feels like calmness, but the words? They hit like someone is gently pulling out the sadness you’ve kept hidden for years.

It’s a movie so old that the colors feel dull, but the emotions? They felt more real than anything I’ve lived recently. Within ten minutes, I felt like the movie wasn't on the screen anymore it was happening inside my head.

From the outside, it looks like a light Bollywood musical with Dev Anand smiling and dropping heart-touching dialogues. But inside? It’s the story of a man’s downfall and his rebirth. It shows how society first crushes you, and then worships you.

I couldn’t stop myself from writing about it. The music, the loneliness, the quiet philosophy… it grabbed me by the collar and said, “Ashutosh, kahaan bhaag raha hai? Zindagi ko ek second dekh bhi le.” And somewhere between Dev Anand’s smile and Rosie’s anklets, I was watching myself. My own confusion. My own messes. My own questions about what the hell I’m even becoming.

When Dev Anand narrates his past, it really hits hard. He says he can’t go home because he has disappointed everyone he ever loved. He couldn’t save his father’s savings. He couldn’t give his mother comfort. And the woman he loved? He betrayed her just to protect his own ego. He cheated his work, and worst of all, he cheated himself.

And then he asks that question we’ve all whispered at 2 a.m Who even wants me? Where do I go now? Who even cares? Sometimes I think movies from the 60s understand my 2026 heart better than people do. Even better than Zoya at times, Trust me, I had an entire library of emotions stored inside, and Guide touched them all in weird ways.

You know how Dev Anand keeps pretending everything is fine? That was me with Zoya. Acting fine, laughing, masking everything with jokes while my heart was busy collecting its own broken pieces.

The story starts so casually. Dev Anand is a guide in Udaipur, living life like a railway timetable. Earn, flirt, sleep, repeat. Until Rosie walks in. She doesn’t have a dramatic entry she’s just the kind of person who silently changes your life when you aren’t paying attention.

Dev Anand and Rosie fall into a strange relationship that wasn't messy, but silent, emotional exactly how real feelings are. No filters. No perfect Instagram reels. Just two people trying to love each other while their insecurities slowly eat them alive.

Dev Anand loved her in his own stupid way. The kind of love where you hold too tight and end up breaking what you were trying to protect.

I swear, I never meant to hurt her. But intentions don’t matter if the actions harm someone.

I felt that deeply. Because when I cared for Zoya, I never said it properly. I had that stupid hope that she would understand without me saying anything. Spoiler alert: They never do! Even when you scream your heart out, sometimes they still don’t.

Eventually, Dev Anand’s life breaks apart. He loses his reputation, his love, his identity. The man who guided others loses his own path. I’ve been there. It’s a world without colors. That stage where you don't want to go home because you don't know which version of "you" will answer the door.

And then, he ends up in a village by accident and they mistake him for a saint. Life has a strange sense of humor, right? One of the most flawed men becomes a holy figure.

But I think he didn't become toxic with a bang. It happened softly. Gradually. It started with love. He saved Rosie, felt like a hero, felt irreplaceable. But then, her freedom stopped being hers and started being his contribution. Her success became something he thought he "earned" the right to manage.

That’s where love slips into control. When support starts expecting obedience. He manipulated things not out of cruelty, but out of fear. Fear of being left behind. Fear of losing relevance. I look at myself and I see that same fear. Why did I spend the last 2 years sacrificing everything? No friends, no family, no love. Just study and work. I did all that just to forget her. I thought if I cracked the competitive exams, if I became "someone," I would finally deserve someone better.

And now, I’ve cracked the FRM exams. Earlier I was nobody, but now I’m an FRM. But it hurts more to be alone now. The distraction of the books is gone. I have nothing to do, no one to share this "success" with. I want to tell her, "Look, I made it," but she’s already left like Rosie

Dev Anand’s fall in Guide doesn’t happen because the world is cruel or because fate turns against him. It happens because he doesn’t know how to let go. He keeps holding on, even when everything is slipping away. Slowly, life starts taking things from him, love first, then his identity, then the purpose he thought defined him. Until one day, there’s nothing left. And strangely, that’s where his redemption begins. Not with applause or forgiveness, but in silence. With no roles left to play, no ego left to protect, no desires left to defend,

Dev Anand finally stops pretending. He becomes a saint by accident, forced into sacrifice and surrender, sitting quietly with himself for the first time. And somewhere in that stillness, the act fades away. The man who once tried to control another person’s life finally learns what it means to give his own life away. That’s the quiet beauty of Guide, I fell sometimes a person keeps trying to be good for so long that, after losing everything, they don’t even realize when goodness stops being an act and becomes who they are.

I don’t know why this movie affected me so much, but I guess some stories don’t entertain you they reflect you. Guide showed me that people break, people lie, people fail, people pretend… but somewhere in between all that, people also grow, People have to let it go. And maybe that’s the whole point of life. You make mistakes, you apologize, you try again, you lose people, you find yourself, and then one random night, you watch an old movie and it explains your entire life better than you could.

And maybe… that’s enough.

Love.

Such a heavy word, right? And honestly, we barely understand it.

The funny thing is, whenever I hear the word "Love," my brain doesn’t think of real life. It plays a scene, Automatically some random guy standing dramatically, looking at a girl who looks confused but pretty, hawa chal rahi hai for no reason, background music is doing its magic, and somewhere in my head, Shah Rukh Khan's dialogue echoes. I don’t even remember the exact line, but I believe in it blindly. Like a religion I never questioned.

That’s how love lived inside me for years. Not as something I experienced. But as something I consumed. And honestly? That feels a little suspicious now

Because if I’m being honest, most of us didn’t really learn love from life. We learned it from content Movies, Songs, Books, and Instagram reels. Perfectly edited stories telling us this is love, this is how it should feel, this is what will finally fix you. But pause for a second. How do you understand something real when you learned it mostly from fiction?

If you strip down most things running on Netflix or in theatres right now, it’s the same recycled story. Boy meets girl. Some invisible force drags them together. They fight. Then they fight the world. Breakup and Heart Breaks. Rains, Crying in Depression. And after defeating parents, distance, careers, exes, logic, self-respect, and sometimes basic sanity, they win. Happily ever after. And then they die. Unfortunately.

For a long time, I genuinely believed I could never be fully happy until I met “the love of my life.” Even on good days, something felt missing. And I used to think bas, she will come and fill that gap. Final piece. Life sorted. End credits roll.

This is the garbage we were fed. Repeatedly. With Arijit Singh’s voice in the background.

Nobody ever tells you to pause and ask Bhai, why is this guy so obsessed with one human being? Why does his entire existence depend on someone who also eats, sleeps, overthinks, and gets bored like the rest of us? But we don’t ask. Because it looks romantic on screen.

Real life? It doesn’t give a damn about that template. Some stories don’t scream romance. They quietly walk away from it. No drama. No rebellion. Just silence. Like real life actually does. Sometimes people meet not to stay forever, but to mess each other up a little and leave. Because relationships don’t just introduce you to another person. They introduce you to parts of yourself you were comfortably ignoring. You fight. You say stupid things. You unlearn stuff you thought was permanent truth. You grow. Or you don’t. But you never stay the same.

And that’s why “500 Days of Summer” hit me differently. It felt like the English version of Raanjhanaa. Looks cute outside. But inside? Brutal. No comfort. No sugarcoating. Dekh le bhai, yahi hota hai.

It follows 500 days in the messy, confusing, beautiful but painful timeline of Tom and Summer. Tom is this twenty-something guy stuck in a boring job he doesn’t care about (which already felt a little personal, thank you very much). He believes in love. Not normal love. Certified pop-culture love. Soulmates. Destiny. One-person-will-save-my-life type love. The kind you grow up believing in when songs hit harder at 2 a.m. and the ceiling fan feels like your therapist.

Opposite him, we have Summer with those hypnotic eyes that look like they know more than they say. And she’s different. She doesn’t really believe in the whole “love” myth. Or at least she doesn’t think it’s for her. She doesn’t like labels, She hates the idea of calling something a relationship and then to building expectations around it until it collapses under its own weight.

She believes feelings change, people change, and eventually somebody gets hurt and everything turns into a mess. So her philosophy is if you can function without all that emotional drama, Then why walk into the fire voluntarily? Typical GenZ

When Tom falls for her, it’s instant. And honestly, I can’t blame him. I’ve seen this happen too many times, including with myself. He doesn’t fall for her ideology. He falls because she’s beautiful. And that’s a truth most of us don’t like admitting.

They start something “casual.” Summer is honest from day one. Nothing serious. Tom agrees. Out loud. But inside his head? He’s already written the full story. He’s cast himself as the hero (Kundun) and given her the lead role (Zoya), without checking if she even wanted the script.

Ye humara hi failaya hua sanichar hai, par hum bhi kya karte hum sanichar se he dil laga bethe.

And that’s the dangerous part. When someone walks into your life and suddenly things feel lighter. Like waking up tomorrow doesn’t feel heavy anymore. Problems don’t disappear, but they feel manageable. The future stops scaring you. Hope stops feeling stupid.

I’ve felt that. And once you feel it, losing it hurts in a way that stays with you.

And when things start changing replies coming late, conversations feeling forced there’s no clear ending. No final fight. Just confusion. We are left replaying everything in our head. Every message. Every moment. Wondering how someone can cross emotional lines and later say it was all just fun or worst just disappear.

I have felt this too, like all of us

We don’t just get heartbroken by what people do. We get heartbroken by the stories we secretly write in our own heads.

I’ve lived that "Expectation vs. Reality" scene every day for 2 years now. I thought cracking the exam was the climax of my movie. I thought that’s when the "Zoya" in my life would realize my worth. But she’s already left. She’s gone, and I’m sitting here with my FRM result like a fool.

I want to share this moment with her. I want to tell her, "Look, I did it." But there’s no reply. Just a blue tick or maybe not even that.

When I couldn’t handle it anymore, when everything I believed about my life collapsed, I didn’t react the way movies show it. There was no dramatic breakdown, no crying on the floor. I just went quiet. I stopped smiling without realizing it. And that silence scared me more than any breakup scene ever could.

The worst part comes later. It comes when you’re sitting with people, laughing at the right jokes, nodding at the right moments. No one would guess anything is wrong. But inside? Something is slowly cracking. It’s a quiet kind of pain. It just sits there. You feel alone even when you’re surrounded by people.

I realized I’ve done my own version of that. I couldn’t say things directly to her. I didn’t have the courage when it actually mattered. So I hid behind my blogs. Everything I couldn’t say out loud ended up there. The anger, the frustration. Writing felt safer than speaking. Safer than risking silence. I wasn’t afraid of saying the wrong thing, I was afraid of saying the right thing and still losing her.

That’s why 500 Days of Summer never felt like just a movie to me. It felt like someone quietly held up a mirror in front of my face when I wasn’t ready for it. No warning. No soft entry. Just here look. It doesn’t tell you to stop believing in love, and that’s the scary part. It simply asks you to look closely at what you’ve been calling love all this time. And suddenly you realize how much of it wasn’t even yours to begin with.

Movies, songs, stories they shaped it for us long before we ever lived it. Somewhere along the way, we stopped questioning it. We didn’t even notice when their definitions slipped into our heads and settled there, quietly deciding how we should feel, what we should expect, and how heartbreak is supposed to look.

These movies, songs, stories they messed with our understanding of love so much that we didn’t even realize we were carrying their definitions inside us. True love doesn’t have to be the first person you meet or someone who gives you a bit of attention.

Writing all of this unfold, I don’t know why, but Zoya slipped back into my head. Not in a dramatic way. Not like a sad song moment. Just casually. Quietly. The way she always used to appear without warning, without asking permission. Because what I was watching felt uncomfortably familiar. It felt like looking at an old version of myself, from those years when I didn’t understand silences, didn’t understand tone, didn’t understand that gaps don’t always mean something is coming back. I pretended I didn’t care, but I cared about everything. I overthought every message, every emoji, every small kindness. I was that idiot who thought normal conversations meant something more, who confused attention with intention, kindness with destiny.

That expectations-versus-reality moment wasn’t a movie scene for me. I’ve lived it. Sitting with my phone in my hand, staring at the screen longer than I should have, waiting for a reply that never came. Writing stories in my head that never happened. Watching hope slowly embarrass itself. Seeing all of that on screen felt like watching my own past mistakes play out again, just with better lighting and background music.

And somewhere in all that mess, Zoya was just there. Not as heartbreak. Not as guilt. Not even as pain. Just as a reminder of a time.

For a long time, I felt like I wasn't enough. I felt that to deserve someone "better" to deserve someone like her, I had to be someone important. So, I made a choice. I decided to give competitive exams. I thought, let me fill this emotional gap with books and numbers. Let me trade my feelings for a career.

Trust me, the last 2 years were nothing but sacrifice. It was all study and work. No friends, no family, no girls just the books and the silence. I became a ghost in my own life. I did all this just to forget her. I thought if I could just crack this, I would finally be "sorted." I would finally feel worthy.

And then, it happened. I cracked the FRM exams. Earlier I was nobody, but now I’m an FRM. People see the title, they see the success. But you know what’s the irony? I feel more lonely now than I ever did when I was a "nobody." Hahahaha.

The distraction is gone. The books are closed. And now that I have nothing to do, the silence is screaming. I have the title, I have the status, but I have no one to talk to. No one to share these feelings with. It’s a different kind of pain when you reach the top of the mountain and realize you’re standing there alone.

And maybe the hardest thing to accept is this that a lot of what I believed about love didn’t come from experience, it came from movies. From stories that were edited until nothing messy was left. And when reality didn’t match that picture, I thought something was wrong with me. Or with her.

Tom didn’t get the girl, but he got clarity. I got the FRM, but I got the truth. Life doesn’t hand out perfect endings with background music. It gives lessons instead. Sometimes painfully.

And one day, you notice something has shifted. You’re not waiting for a message anymore. You’re just living. Carrying what you learned. Letting go of what you didn’t need. And somehow, for the first time in a long time, even this silence feels like it might be enough.

Lekin Picture abhi baaki hai mere dost, par script ab hum khud likhenge

If you have clicked on the link than I'm sure you know this character otherwise you would have ignored him like Zoya did.

Heyy I'm Ashutosh, and you're here because there's a character you can't possibly ignore. I'm talking about none other than Kundun,

What should I say Kashi, Banaras, Varanasi or Sukoon, the Land of ghat, culture. A land that's not only famous for its breathtaking ghats but also for its vibrant culture that's known across the globe. And let me tell you, just as those ghats have left an indelible mark on the world, the people of Kashi have left an equally lasting impression on me. And in the heart of this very place resides our protagonist, Kundun, brought to life by the Dhanush.

The first 15 minutes of this movie makes us deeply remember our sweet 90s Love story, our old nostalgic school life, riding cycle and writing love letter and when giving greeting card to our schools sweetheart were not considered cringe, and most the line between love and lust was crystal clear, like a boundary etched in stone.

To me kundun is not a fictional character but a real person who will be remembered a long way not because of his Romeo ranjhaana personality but because of his realness and human touch,

He isn't just a figment of someone's imagination. He represents the spirit of an entire society, reflection of our very own hopes, dreams, and complexities. Kundun isn't a typical Bollywood hero,

He isn't some sharp-written alpha male character who's always got it together. Oh, no. He's a flawed human being like us who makes mistakes, who isn't afraid to show his vulnerable side, and who knows what it's like to have his self-respect crushed by his crush. Love can make us do crazy things, and Kundun is proof of that.

we remember Kundun because the masses connect with him, because they focused and presented him as a normal person rather than a hero

okay? Don't get me wrong I'm not saying cutting wrist to impress girlfriends and stalking her is an option, I'm saying that all this exist in our society and kundun is a example taken from our society

Kundun's story is a reflection of that reality. I mean, who among us hasn't experienced that overwhelming feeling for someone in school or college? We all have our own Zoyas, don't we? Those memories of our past, our own personal Zoya's memories, make us blush uncontrollably when we watch the movie.

But Perhaps no one from us had did something crazy of that level, what Kundan did in this movie,

Life has consequences, and what I love about Kundun is that he owns up to them. Sure, he loved Zoya with all his heart

But when tragedy struck with Jasjeet, he couldn't forgive himself. That iconic scene where Kundun sits on the beach, haunted by a stranger's words, sends shivers down my spine. "Whose blood stains is on your hands?" as if he was peering into Kundun's very soul. It's a moment of reckoning, and it hits you right in the gut

look kundun had no obligation to make everything right but still he fight for jasjeet political party and however zoya I have to say for the fist time Sonam Kapoor played a character so well that I start hating her,

I mean was only kundun was responsible for jasjeet death? from my view zoya was equally responsible

she lied about his religion and brought him to Banaras and that's how she put him to danger too and after everything she played the saint. It's easy to put all the blame on someone who is not willing to defend themselves, isn't it?

I recently stumbled upon a famous YouTuber's video discussing Raanjhana, and she raised an interesting point. She argued that Zoya slapped Kundun multiple times, yet we failed to see it for what it was. But when Kabir Singh slapped Preeti, oh boy, we were up in arms.

Kabir Singhwas a character known for his deeply problematic behavior. His possessiveness, aggression, and inability to take no for an answer are alarming. Kabir’s actions, especially his violent outbursts and attempts to control Preeti, reflect a toxic and unhealthy portrayal of love. His treatment of Preeti is nothing short of abusive. He slaps her, forces himself on her, and makes decisions for her without considering her feelings or autonomy. Kabir’s obsessive and destructive love is glorified in the movie, sending a dangerous message that such behavior is acceptable in the name of love. Despite his toxic actions, many viewers empathized with Kabir and romanticized his intense love, which is wrong. which actually toxic

Similarly, in Animal, Ranvijay, treats his wife, Geetanjali, with a mixture of affection and dominance. His gangster lifestyle brings turmoil to their relationship, and his actions often put her in difficult and dangerous situations. Ranvijay’s character is complex, but his domineering and sometimes violent behavior towards Geetanjali portrays a troubled and oppressive dynamic. He is deeply involved in a violent world, and his actions reflect the chaos and danger of his life, often leaving Geetanjali in a vulnerable position. This relationship dynamic, while portrayed with depth, still glorifies a form of toxic masculinity and control over women.

In contrast, Kundan despite his flaws, never crosses into the same territory. He may be obsessive and misguided in his love for Zoya, but he does not resort to the same level of violence or control. He tries to understand Zoya’s choices and even helps her be with someone else, showing a level of selflessness that Kabir Singh and Ranvijay lack.

But she said kundun was a toxic character and he couldn't hear no as answer and crashed his scooter in ganga and I don't agree with this

see everyone has their view and my view is different he might be complex character but he was not toxic, because toxic people don't go well along with their partner as well as with to let her live with someone else

A toxic person doesn't convince his crush father to let her marry someone else ( Even I did the something similar for my zoya too not to his father ofcourse, Hahaha) and they certainly don't let their partners go freely into the arms of another. A toxic people doesn't work 9 years as servant in absence of his crush in her house, A toxic person doesn't accept his fault and help her

And let's not forget, that Kundun knew his days were numbered when he know that he would be killed in the political rally speech. Yet, he didn't hesitate to make the ultimate sacrifice for love.

I know it's just a movie, but I can't help but feel that Kundun didn't get what he deserved in the end. Even stone cold Zoya underwent a transformation, witnessing Kundun's unwavering love. But it was only his childhood friend Murari who saw the pain he endured, begging him to just rest in peace. "Die, Pandit, why endure so much pain? Just let die in peace,"

Because there is a limit to doing sacrifices and maybe kundun didn't have anything left to give to zoya, maybe that's why he chose to sacrifice himself

Raanihanaa has a beautiful ending that evokes various different and subjective thoughts. In the movie, we saw that Bindiya had been in love with Kundan since childhood, praying for him, but Kundan never accepted her love. When Kundan was on his deathbed, Bindiya came to see him, and as soon as she touched him, Kundan spat blood from his mouth. He could have died instantly there at that point, but his destiny was written for Zoya. He eventually dies in Zoya's arms. This shows us that one is born, lives, and dies for the one with whom their destiny is written, and no one can change this. Raanjhanaa is not just a movie ; it's a роеtry.

Maybe in a some other universe someone will pray for kundun and realize his love for zoya

In many ways, we are all Kundan in our lives. We all have that one person, our Zoya, whom we loved deeply but lost due to circumstances beyond our control. Our lives might have taken different turns if that love had been reciprocated. We dream of a life where we could have been happier with them by our side, but life has its own plans. What’s gone is gone, and sometimes we need to let go.

However, amidst the loss, we should not overlook Bindiya in our lives. The one who has always been there, loving us silently, praying for us, and hoping for our happiness. We often ignore them while chasing our Zoya, but in reality, they are the ones who can bring true joy and fulfillment to our lives. I wish for all of us to find our Bindiya, the one who has been overlooked but holds the potential to make our lives complete.

Remember, true love isn’t about grand gestures and dramatic sacrifices. It’s about understanding, respect, and the willingness to be there for each other, just like Kundan’s silent but profound love. Let’s cherish those who cherish us and strive to find the happiness that we truly deserve.

And if then we can atleast say,

"Mere seene ki Aag yaa toh mujhe zinda kar sakti thi ya fir Mujhe Mar sakti thi,

Par Saala ab uthe kaun , kaun phir se mehnat kare dil lagane ko , dil tudwane ko,

Abe koi toh aawaz de ke rok lo, ye jo ladki murda si aanke liye baithi he bagal me ,

"Aaj bhi Haan bol de toh mahadev ki kasam wapas aa jayenge" par nai ab saala mood nahi ,aankhe moond lene mehi sukh hai.. so jane me hi bhali he ,

Par uthenge kisi din ussi ganga kinare damru bajane ko unhi banaras k galiyo me doud jane ko kisi Zoya ke ishq me phir se padh jaane ko..!!"

Now it’s like that old heartbreak you thought you moved on from suddenly shows up again uninvited, loud, and real. Dhanush is back, but not as our sweet, lovestruck Kundan. This time he’s Shankar rough, fiery, straight outta Banaras and ready to burn down Delhi for love. He’s not here to win hearts, he’s here to crash headfirst into love and leave chaos behind. And Kriti Sanon as Mukti? She’s that girl who makes you believe she’s your forever… and then just rips it away like it was nothing.

And guess what? Rahman’s back on the music. You already know that means pure emotion. His tunes don’t just play they hit, straight in the chest. This isn’t some soft sequel to Raanjhana . It’s louder, madder, messier. It’s like Raanjhana wild cousin who doesn’t care about rules.

It’s dropping November 28, and honestly? This doesn’t feel like just another movie. It feels like something you’ll carry with you whether you love it or it breaks you.

If you have journeyed with me thus far, do share your favorite dialogue from Raanjhana and offer your thoughts on whether "Tere Ishq Me" will soar to the lofty expectations set by Raanjhana or will it stumble and falter under the weight of Raanjhana's enduring legacy? Only time will tell

How it all began

The city, the shawl and everything in between

The last train

The part I forgot to mention

Love.

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