I have known the boy since college days
My male protagonist, though even calling him a “protagonist” feels funny because honestly, he was always too simple, too carefree, too happy to ever imagine himself inside a story.
He was that guy who laughed loudly, lived lightly, and never overthought anything. Maybe that’s why he was always happier than the rest of us.
Meanwhile, look at me, I overthink if I should breathe fast or slow on a Tuesday afternoon.
But somehow, unexpectedly, we became good friends.
He joined my college when I was in second year and by the time we graduated, our friendship had become one of those quiet, unshaken bonds not daily calls, not daily texts, but the kind where once in two months, where one phone call could catch up two years.
After college he disappeared into Chandrapur for career reasons, and our conversations reduced to rare calls where we would rant about jobs, life, future, everything adults pretend to have figured out.
But last week…
last week he called me and told me a story that felt so filmy, so impossibly sweet, that for the first time in my life, I felt jealous in a good way.
Jealous the way, you get jealous of someone who accidentally walked into a love story, while you’re still walking alone on the footpath of life with earphones and heartbreak for company.
So… here it is.
Day 1 in Udaipur. Not mine. but theirs.
A boy who still can’t believe such things actually happen outside Bollywood movies.
How it all began… There is a girl.
No names here because some stories look prettier without labels.
My protagonist had met her once or twice in Pune for work. Just formal meetings, nothing dramatic.
But from the way he spoke about her during our call, I already knew he had fallen and fallen badly.
I even tried warning him, “Bhai, sambhal jaa… people don’t listen once they catch feelings.”
But obviously he didn’t listen. Who listens?
Love makes even the smartest people behave like interns in their own life.
So around 7–8 people from his workplace planned a trip to Udaipur. And of course, she was going. And of course, he couldn’t stop himself from joining.
But here’s where the universe decided to give him a 90s movie entry
she was travelling a day earlier in Udaipur…and he somehow managed to get a tatkal ticket for the exact same train.
“Kehte hain agar kisi cheez ko dil se chaho toh poori kaaynaat tumhe usse milane ki koshish mein lag jaati hai.”
For once in his life, SRK was right.
The girl, being a responsible woman of this century, had boarded the train armed with pepper spray and martial arts confidence but the moment she saw him, she quietly put away all the safety measures as if silently telling the universe, “Hero aa gaya. Ab main safe hoon.”
He hadn’t met her in almost a year, so the moment he saw her, he hugged her the kind of hug where your brain switches off and your heart tries to remember everything it forgot.
He told me he froze after that. Like literally froze. Couldn’t talk. Couldn’t blink.
Just stood there staring at her as if seeing her for the first time. Later, when he regained consciousness like a Windows XP system rebooting he asked about her journey, her family and they stepped off the train for a moment to meet her parents who’d come to drop her.
He told me he felt “privileged” to meet her family.
When the train started moving again, he told me he felt like life had pressed the “resume happiness” button after one whole year.
They met a Gujarati family in the train the kind that adopts random strangers within 5 minutes.
He told me they were offered everything khakhra, thepla, achar, life advice, marriage proposal…okay maybe not the last two, but you get my point.
And obviously, my protagonist being him, got into a philosophical debate with them about love, money, and power just to impress her.
she kept smiling at him from the corner of her eye.
But while she slept peacefully, he stayed awake. He just watched over her, making sure she was safe, comfortable, and maybe… because she looked cute while sleeping. He even wished the train never reached Udaipur.
Imagine liking someone so much that even a general compartment seat feels like heaven.He wished the train would never reach Udaipur. He wished the night would last forever. He wished life could pause.
But trains don’t wait for lovers. Not even in my friend’s story.
They reached Udaipur early morning. The Gujarati family, not yet finished with their kindness, even booked a cab for them.
The driver dropped them a little early because the road has “no vehicle entry ahead” and suddenly, both of them had a whole 1 km walk alone together in Udaipur.
And my friend told me, “I hate walking bro… but that 1 km? I have never walked so happily in my life.”
Hand in hand. Fresh cold air. New city. New feelings. Old friendship turning into something unnamed.
By this point I was feeling jealous and betrayed by destiny.
They checked into their hostel, changed, freshened up and set out to explore Udaipur.
My friend told me, “I was carrying her bag and holding her hand, walking through the beautiful streets…” and honestly at this point
I wanted to throw my phone out of the window out of pure romantic frustration.
They roamed cafes, markets, lakesides. He didn’t even pay attention to Udaipur because he was too busy exploring her beauty.
In the evening, they went to the terrace to see the night view. Cold wind rushed across the rooftops, He told me he didn’t even realize when they ended up sharing a shawl.
But I can say that in the many years I’ve known him, I have never heard him this happy.
Next day the rest of their friends joined and the Udaipur trip became a group adventure bike rides, laughter, photos, street food, sunsets.
But for him… Udaipur wasn’t a city. It was her eyes. He explored the city through her laughter, her dreams, her energy, her presence.
Returning from a trip is always strange. You climb the same train you came in, sit on the same kind of seat, breathe the same cold railway air… but you’re not the same person anymore.
Life changes quietly somewhere between a sunset and a shawl.
Their return was supposed to be simple two tickets, two seats
But destiny, being the filmy, had better plans.
Only one ticket got confirmed. He wasn’t happy about it. Neither was she.
But both of them pretended to act normal, as if sharing a single berth in a crowded Indian train was the most casual thing in the world.
Inside, though? Arre bhai… his heart was doing full trapezium aerobics.
She fell asleep fast. Of course she did. She trusted him enough to sleep without worry.
And there he was… sitting beside her, trying not to blink too loudly,
pretending to be relaxed while his heart was recording every second like CCTV footage.
The train rattled, people chattered, vendors screamed “chai-chai”… but all he could focus on was her face.
She looked peaceful. Calm. That kind of softness that makes even time slow down to stare.
He told me
“Bro, uska soya hua chehra dekh ke lag raha tha ki duniya yahi ruk jaye.”
And then came the Ticket Checker. The villain of the night.
He tapped her shoulder once. Then twice. Then thrice.
“Ticket dikhao.”
My friend looked at him like Bhai, aankh nahi hai? She’s sleeping.
How dare you disturb a sleeping beauty?
If TC had pushed one more time, my guy would have written a full FIR.
He handled the checking himself, whispered “woh so rahi hai” like he was guarding a national treasure, and sent the TC away.
After that, he didn’t sleep. Not even for a second.
He just sat there, half in love, half in fear, fully lost.
He told me
“That night ended too fast, bro. Maine zindagi mein koi raat itni jaldi guzarte hue nahi dekhi.”
Usually people complain train nights are long. But for him, this one vanished like smoke…
leaving only memories behind.
And then morning. Stations arrived.
Announcements echoed. Light entered the train like an uninvited guest.
She woke up slowly, rubbing her eyes, unaware of how many times he checked if she was cold, if she was comfortable, if she was breathing normally.
And then… the goodbye.
No movie dialogue. No dramatic confession, No “stay” or “don’t go.”
Just a small smile. A soft nod. A hesitant wave.
Sometimes heartbreak doesn’t sound like glass breaking. Sometimes it sounds like silence.
He told me he felt something heavy like his heart had absorbed all the unsaid words, and now it didn’t know how to carry them.
He wanted her to stop him. She didn’t. He wanted to say something. He couldn’t.
That’s how life works sometimes The right person, the right moment, wrong timing.
Now he’s back in a train to Chandrapur…the same boy, but not really. With a luggage full of memories, a heart full of confusion, and a playlist full of songs that make everything worse.
He told me “Bro, main Udaipur nahi bhool paunga.” And I knew he wasn’t talking about the city.
She made the place unforgettable. She turned a random weekend trip into a story he’ll carry forever.
And now he sits by the window, watching stations pass by, replaying everything like a movie he doesn’t want to end…
Wondering when fate will be kind enough to cross their paths again. If it ever does.
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