ARZOO POV

Two days later, I was feeling better.

I couldn't stay at home for more than five days. Sitting idle started haunting me. My foot still hurt, but only when I moved too much. I could walk now, without support.

Going back to university felt good.

There was a social event that day. We were sitting inside the big auditorium, waiting for the chief guest. I sat with my classmates. There were three or four girls I mostly spoke to. Our conversations usually stayed limited to the syllabus and lectures. I mostly sat with Ruhi. She was quiet, like me.

"Yaar, kab aayenge chief guest?" one of them asked.

"Sirf paanch minute ke liye aayenge," Ruhi replied. "Hum logon ko aadhe ghante se bithaya hua hai."

"Bhai, IAS hai," another girl added. "Wait karna toh banta hai. Suna hai kaafi gabru jawaan hai."

"Padhai bhi kaafi ki hogi gabru jawaan ne," I said. "IAS banne ke liye."

I heard whispers around me.

"Kitna handsome hai."

Suddenly, everyone stood up.

"Please give a round of applause for the Honourable Additional District Magistrate, Mr. Sahir Sachdeva."

I looked at the stage.
Then at the LED screens above.

For a moment, the clapping sounded distant.

My eyes widened.

"Sahir... ADM," I said absentmindedly.

"Kya?" Ruhi turned to me.

"Kuch nahi," I said quickly. "Tum jaanti ho inhe?"

"Haan," she said. "Kaafi famous hain. Facebook par dekha tha."

I felt numb.

He was standing there, in front of nearly a thousand students. People were cheering. Policemen stood nearby. There was a calm authority around him. People waited for him. Respected him.

And all I could think was—

this didn't fit.

An IAS officer had come two days ago to give me medicines.
I had thanked him with a cookie jar, knowing he liked eating from it.

An IAS officer had eaten butter naan with me.

All that time, he had been an IAS officer.

He never told me he was the ADM. Or maybe I never asked.
Still, it felt strange that he wasn't... one of us. A commoner like me.

I came home later, still thinking.

Something felt unfamiliar. Just out of place.

I shifted back to my room on the upper floor.

 I spoke to aunty and uncle.

"Sahir was the chief guest today," I said.

"Haan," uncle replied casually. "Bada honhaar ladka hai. Kaafi achha kaam kar raha hai kuch mahino se."

"You knew he's IAS?" I asked.

"Arre haan," aunty said. "Sabko pata hai. Newspaper mein aata rehta hai.Jab woh tumhe hospital se drop karne aaya tha, tab usne introduce kiya tha khud ko."

They said it like it was obvious.

I didn't know how to explain what I was feeling.

Seeing him surrounded by attention, by power, did something to my mind. Not admiration but just distance.

I went to my room.

"Mujhe laga woh humare jaise hai," I said quietly.

"Kyun?" Tisha replied. "Tumhe bandar prajati ka laga kya?"

"Tisha," I said, irritated. "Humare jaise matlab... normal insaan."

"Normal hi toh hai," she said. "ADM hai bas."

Bas.

An ADM whose decisions changed how a city breathed for a few hours and  travelled far beyond one office, through officers, through SDMs, through the city itself.

Authority sat on him so quietly, it felt normal to him.

Tisha went back to her work.

The thought stayed.

Life returned to routine.

I woke up at seven, got ready, cooked, went to university, came back by four-thirty, rested, studied, and went for evening walks with Tisha. Her shifts kept changing. Ten-hour duties. She was always tired, yet always fun.

For me, life felt fast, yet carried a strange calm.

Mumma still called every few hours. She paid my university fees. That alone was enough motivation to keep going.

A week passed.

It was Sunday.

There was a big event at the temple. Lights, crowd, a stage set up near the main road. The road was blocked for two days. Everything was organised surprisingly well.

I went with Ruhi. Tisha was busy with work.

We stood in the queue for darshan. Separate lines for men and women. Volunteers guided everyone. Bells rang softly.

People stood before the deity, but their eyes were on their screens. Some clicked hurriedly. Some carefully, checking angles, light, framing. A man leaned sideways, blocking the view for others, unwilling to move until the picture felt complete.

Darshan happened in seconds.
The photograph took longer.

I watched silently.

It wasn't wrong, I told myself. Maybe they wanted something to take back. Something to keep.

Still, it unsettled me.

I wondered if, after a decade, people would come less to stay in the moment and more to prove they had been there at all.

Inside, I noticed a group of policemen and officials.

At the centre stood Sahir.

The temple committee was felicitating him. People surrounded him. Some folded hands. Some took pictures.

Phones were raised.

I suddenly felt uneasy.

We did parikrama quietly.

While coming out of the main gate, policemen stood around him in a circle. We stepped aside.

"Arzoo," Sahir said.

I looked at him blankly.

"How are you?" he asked.

"Good," I replied.

"Darshan ho gaye?"

"Hanji."

"Kaise aaye ho?"

"Scooty pe. Ruhi ke saath."

"Kuch lena hai?"

"Bas dekhne ja rahe the kuch."

"Chalo," he said. "Kaafi log hain yahan."

I stood still for a second.

"Chalo, Arzoo," he said again, gently.

We moved closer, inside the circle of policemen.

Ruhi looked stunned. Like she had seen a ghost.

Sahir spoke to the officers, instructing them about arrangements. He was calm and responsible.

There were small shops along the lane.

"Dekho, kya chahiye," he said.

People were watching. I wasn't sure at whom.

I looked at bangles.

A man came up to Sahir. Maybe a politician.

"Kaise ho, officer?"

"Jai Hind, sir. Bilkul theek."

They spoke. I nodded awkwardly.
What was I doing here?

Sahir introduced me.

"She's a brilliant student."

Brilliant, who couldn't finish her syllabus on time.

They moved towards the main gate. I exhaled in relief.

When I went to pay, Sahir returned and held my hand briefly. By then, he had already paid the vendor. Extra.

We walked towards the exit.

"Study kaisi chal rahi hai?" he asked.

"Achhi chal rahi hai," I said.

He received a call and spoke about some case.

Ruhi kept hitting my elbow. I signalled her to stay quiet.

Before leaving, Sahir told a policeman to walk with us till the parking. The crowd was heavy.

"Main aaun?" he asked.

I shook my head. "Nahi. Hum chale jaayenge."

"Okay. Take care."

He turned back to work.

The policeman accompanied us till we reached the scooty.

I knew Ruhi had hundreds of questions. I would have to explain everything.

As she started the scooty, she screamed,
"ADM tujhe jaanta hai... WHAT?"

I sighed.

Here we go.

Just a small note 🤍
This story explores different kinds of connections and relationships, so I'd love for you to read it with an open mind and a little patience.

Votes and thoughts are always appreciated 🤍