Chapter 6: Fish, Accidents, and Familiar Laughter

In a flash, Arjun had been gone half a month.

One evening, just home from work, I got a call from Arjun, sounding anxious:

"Bro, are you free? Jaldi help chahiye!"

"Kya hua? Bata, Arjun."

"If I take time, my fish will die! Pump kharab ho gaya, water bilkul murky!"

"Arrey yaar... that arowana is worth a lakh, right? Agar mar gaya toh bada nuksaan hai."

"Don’t jinx it! I’ve had it for years. I’m attached."

I threw on my slippers and took an auto to Arjun’s flat. The ride was full of diesel fumes, the driver’s FM radio blaring old Lata songs. Outside, fruit vendors packed up, kids played cricket, and the city’s chaos felt weirdly comforting.

Meera let me in. She looked tired but graceful in loose loungewear. The faint smell of agarbatti lingered, and a Bollywood tune played softly from her phone.

I checked the aquarium—water cloudy, fish missing.

"Bhabhi, fish kahan hai?"

"I don’t know! It was like this when I got home."

"Hai Ram, maybe it jumped out."

I looked around, found scales under the sofa, and finally the fish itself, half-alive. I put it back in the tank, plugged in the oxygen pump, changed the water. After half an hour, the fish perked up.

I texted Arjun: all settled.

While cleaning up, I slipped on the wet floor, banging my forehead on the cabinet.

Meera rushed over. "Don’t move!"

She dabbed my forehead with Dettol and bandages. The living room smelled of wet earth and Dettol. Outside, a vendor’s bell rang—kulfi-wala, making his last round.

She leaned over, her kurta loose, and I realized she wasn’t wearing anything underneath. I looked away, embarrassed. She caught me, laughed, and covered her collar with her hand.

My cheeks burned. "Sorry."

She teased, "Oh, I should apologise for polluting your eyes."

"No, nothing like that..."

Her laughter filled the room, warm and familiar. For a moment, I wished I could freeze time—before reality knocked again.