Dream - Part 5

 

The True Ghost Appeared

Death did not give her peace.

There was no light.
No tunnel.
No divine music welcoming her.

There was only longing.

Ananya’s soul wandered exactly the way she had once joked it would. Restless. Curious. Unfinished.

She searched for him.

And she found him.

Morning sunlight slipped through the curtains of his living room. Arjun sat comfortably on the sofa, reading the newspaper, a cup of coffee balanced in his hand. Calm. Ordinary. Alive.

She stood before him.

For a moment, she felt excitement.

“Oh ho… look at you,” she grinned. “Officer sir with coffee. Wait, I’ll bang your head and say — ‘Hey you! Remember me? I told you not to underestimate this bhooth. I will not leave you free. I will cling on you. I am back! How are you da?’”

She raised her hand to hit him playfully.

Before she could, footsteps echoed from the kitchen.

His wife entered the hall.

Graceful. Beautiful. Calm. The kind of beauty that doesn’t try hard.

Ananya froze.

Jealousy — sharp and ugly — rose inside her. She watched the woman closely. Every movement. The way she adjusted her saree. The way she placed breakfast on the table. The softness in her voice when she called his name.

None of them could see her.

She stood between them like invisible smoke.

Arjun finished his breakfast, picked up his bag, turned toward his wife, kissed her gently on the forehead and said, “Bye.”

That small gesture pierced Ananya more than the accident ever had.

“Damn,” she muttered. “So this is your life now.”

Her jealousy burned.

“Fine,” she whispered. “Let’s see how your officer life is.”

She followed him to his office.

Being an officer, he had his own cabin. He sat inside, adjusting files, settling into routine. Calm. Focused.

She appeared in front of him.

This time — he saw her.

His hand froze mid-air.

The pen dropped.

His face drained of color.

“Hey… you are alive?”

His voice trembled.

“I heard you were dead. Was that also one more playful act of yours? Why do you do such drama? I felt sad… you know? I thought you died.”

She tilted her head slightly.

“Is it? Really?”

“Yes,” he said quickly. “At that time, yes. Now no. Because you will never come out of this playful nonsense.”

Before she could reply, his colleague entered the cabin.

“Good morning!”

Arjun forced a smile. “Morning.”

He felt uneasy. Ananya was standing right there — near his table — looking at him with that same old love in her eyes.

His colleague did not react.
Did not look at her.
Did not even sense her presence.

Arjun’s discomfort deepened.

They spoke casually about work, as if nothing was strange. But his eyes kept flickering toward her.

He pressed the bell.

“One coffee and two teas,” he ordered.

His friend frowned. “Three? Anyone coming?”

Arjun hesitated. Why is he asking? Does he see her?

“We will have… then I’ll tell,” he said vaguely.

The peon entered with a tray.

One tea for his friend.
One coffee for Arjun.

He held the third cup in his hand. “Sir… for whom?”

Arjun slowly pointed toward the empty chair next to his friend.

“For her.”

Ananya smiled.

The peon looked confused. “Sir?”

“Keep it there.”

The peon hesitated, then placed the cup on the empty chair’s side table — his face showing visible shock.

Even his friend looked uneasy now.

“Are you okay?” the friend asked cautiously.

“Yes,” Arjun replied quickly.

After finishing his tea, the friend left the cabin, still glancing back strangely.

Silence filled the room.

Ananya looked at him — the same softness, the same incomplete love.

“Drink,” he said nervously. “Before it becomes cold.”

She smiled faintly. “I can’t.”

“Why? Another playful act? You stopped drinking tea now?”

“No,” she whispered. “I stopped almost everything… except you.”

His brows tightened.

She stepped closer.

“I no longer exist in this world. I am a pure soul now.”

“Stop this stupid nonsense,” he snapped. “I am not getting into your drama again.”

She sighed.

“Oho… bro. Believe me. I don’t exist. Only you can see me as of now.”

He swallowed.

“If you want,” she continued calmly, “call your peon again. Ask him to clean the chair where I am sitting.”

A wave of fear passed through his body.

Slowly — very slowly — he pressed the bell again.

The peon entered.

“Sir?”

“Clean that chair,” Arjun said, pointing.

The peon looked at the chair.

“Sir… it is already clean.”

Ananya did not move.

She kept looking at him.

And for the first time since she met him,

Arjun was not laughing.

He was scared.

Dream Part 4

 

The Biggest Twist Ever Dreamt Of

The night before, she did not sleep.

Ananya lay awake, staring at the ceiling, replaying memories that no longer belonged to her. His laughter. His teasing voice. “Bhooth madam…” The way he once smiled without sound.

Her head ached. Her chest felt tight. She had not eaten properly. She had not rested properly. Thoughts circled her like vultures.

By morning, her body was present —
but her mind was exhausted.

The sun had barely risen when she stepped out for work. The air was cool, almost kind. The streets were half awake. Vendors arranging vegetables. School buses honking impatiently. Bikes rushing past like thoughts that never slow down.

She walked slower than usual.

Her vision blurred once.

She stopped.

“It’s just dizziness,” she whispered to herself.

She had been disturbed for days. Maybe weeks. Maybe years.

A truck screeched somewhere far. A bike swerved. Someone shouted.

She tried to cross the road.

For a second, everything froze —
the sound stretched into silence —
the world tilted.

Her legs failed her.

The impact was violent. Metal collided. People screamed. Her body hit the road harder than any heartbreak she had survived.

Blood spread quietly beneath her like a red confession.

She lay there, eyes half open, the sky above her strangely peaceful.

She had once wished — foolishly, dramatically — that if she ever died, it should be in front of him. So he would finally understand. So he would finally feel her absence like she had felt his.

But today, he was not there.

He was miles away. In his settled life. In his world of responsibility.

She tried to say his name.

No sound came out.

Her fingers moved slightly, as if reaching for a phone that was not in her hand.

Then nothing.

Silence.

The biggest twist she had never truly imagined —
her life ended on an ordinary morning, on an ordinary road, without drama, without audience.

And now?

She could never call him again.
Never message him again.
Never hear “Bhooth madam” again.

The worst part was not death.

The worst part was this:

She could no longer think of him.

Because thinking requires a mind.
And her mind had stopped.

What happens to a soul that loved without return?

Did it wander?

Did it stand near the accident site, confused, watching strangers gather around a body it once owned?

Did it try to run toward him one last time?

Or did it drift somewhere unknown — a place beyond memory, beyond longing, beyond incomplete love?

Maybe it hovered for a moment.

Maybe it searched for him.

Maybe it whispered one last playful threat:

“I told you… I am bhooth.”

Or maybe —
it was finally free.

Free from waiting.
Free from hoping.
Free from dreaming.

No one knows where her soul went.

But somewhere, in some quiet corner of existence,
an incomplete love lost its only heartbeat.

Dream - Part 3

 

Distance

Distance never arrives with noise.

It begins quietly — like a chair that is slowly moved away from the table.

One day, Arjun did not call back.
The next day, he replied late.
Then shorter.
Then not at all.

It wasn’t anger. It wasn’t a fight.
It was something colder.

Enough.

Enough of unrealistic stories.
Enough of ghosts and imaginary tragedies.
Enough of playful drama when life ahead demanded seriousness.

Arjun had responsibilities. A career to grow. A family that expected stability. A future that required discipline. Somewhere along the way, Ananya’s laughter began to feel… exhausting.

He didn’t announce his withdrawal.
He simply reduced himself from her life.

Ananya noticed.

Of course she noticed.

A girl who could sense his thoughts before his calls — how could she not sense his silence?

At first, she told herself he was busy.

“Officer saar has big responsibilities,” she would whisper sarcastically to her own reflection.

But days stretched into weeks.
Weeks felt heavier than months.

Somewhere deep inside, she had always known this day would come. She had loved him with awareness — knowing it was incomplete, knowing she was only a chapter in his passing time.

Yet knowing does not make pain smaller.

She waited.

She waited through unanswered messages.
Waited through calls that rang and died.
Waited through nights when her phone screen remained dark.

Her playful happiness — once bright and unstoppable — began shrinking. The distance did not grow slowly. It grew exponentially, like a silent disease spreading inside her heart.

And one night, she broke.

No drama.
No ghost voice.

Just honesty.

She mailed him.

“Arjun,
I was not joking.
I am in love with you.
I have been for a long time.”

She called him after sending it. No answer.

She texted again.

“This is not a playful act. Please believe me.”

But to him, it was just another one of her dramatic stories. Another exaggerated emotion. Another performance.

He ignored it.

Ignored her confession.
Ignored her vulnerability.
Ignored the first time she had ever spoken without hiding behind laughter.

And life moved forward for him.

His marriage was fixed.

The news reached her not from him, but from someone else. Casual. Normal. As if announcing the weather.

“He is getting married.”

She smiled when she heard it.

“Oh… good,” she said calmly.

That night she did not sleep.

He got married.
A new chapter began for him.
A permanent full stop for her.

The one-sided, hidden love — the one she carried playfully for years — almost killed her. Not physically. But something inside her stopped breathing.

She had known this could happen.
She had prepared herself mentally for this day.
But preparation does not cancel heartbreak.

She acted strong in front of the world.
Went to work.
Spoke normally.
Laughed even.

But alone, she collapsed into silence.

They stopped talking completely.

No calls.
No messages.
No ghosts.

Days passed.
Years passed.

Arjun built his life — work, family, responsibilities.

Ananya built something else.

A world inside her dreams.

In that world, he still laughed at her jokes.
Still called her “Bhooth.”
Still answered her calls.

Reality moved forward.

But her heart stayed where it had always been —
standing at the edge of an incomplete love,
waiting for a voice that would never return.

Dream - Part 2

 

Playful Acts

Ananya had mastered the art of drama.

Every other day, there would be a new tragedy.
Her aunt insulted her cooking.
Her cousin stole her charger and “ruined her life.”
Her neighbor looked at her “with negative energy.”
Or sometimes, she would simply sigh loudly and say, “Arjun… I think I am dying.”

Arjun would rub his forehead. “From what now?”

“Emotional damage,” she would reply seriously. “My family said I talk too much. Can you believe that?”

He would pause. “They are not entirely wrong.”

She would gasp dramatically. “So you are also against me? Fine. I knew. Everyone hates me.”

He knew she was exaggerating. Most of her stories were stitched together from tiny truths and giant imagination. But he still listened. He always listened.

One evening she called him out of nowhere.

“Arjun,” she whispered urgently.

“What happened now?”

“I think something is wrong.”

“With what?”

“With my heart.”

He stiffened for a second. “Are you serious?”

“Yes,” she said softly. “It beats faster when you talk.”

There was silence.

Then she burst into laughter. “See your face! I wish I could see it!”

He exhaled sharply. “You are impossible.”

But he did not disconnect.

She had this strange habit. Whenever he thought about her — just casually, just a passing thought — his phone would ring.

Her name would flash.

He once told her, “You are like a ghost. The moment I think about you, you appear.”

Her eyes sparkled. “Oh? So I am haunting you?”

“Yes. You are a bhooth.”

She grinned wider. “Yes. I am bhooth. I will always be behind you. Beware of doing anything that offends me.”

He smirked. “Really? And what will this bhooth do?”

She straightened dramatically. “How dare you challenge me? Don’t you ever think I am an ordinary bhooth.”

“Oh?” he said calmly. “You are extraordinary? I knew. There is definitely some mental problem with you.”

She pretended to be offended. “What!”

“Friendly suggestion,” he continued. “Please go and consult a good psychiatric doctor. The doctor would help you.”

She softened for a second. “Why can’t you help me?”

“I am not a doctor, ma. I am just an ordinary officer. I know less things than your brain produces in one hour. What all nonsense you think, yeah?”

“Nonsense?” she gasped again. “You are interfering… insulting me. Don’t forget I am bhooth. I will make you hang ulta.”

He smiled. Not loudly. Just that quiet smile that barely moved his lips.

“Okay, Bhooth madam. I will talk to you later. Have some work.”

She sighed dramatically. “Fine. But remember… I am watching.”

As days passed, their conversations never stopped. No matter how fed up he claimed to be, he still answered. He still listened to her unrealistic stories. He still responded to her late-night messages.

Ananya was not part of his world. Not his office. Not his rank. Not his professional circle. She worked in a small, unimpressive job — one she secretly disliked — doing repetitive tasks just to earn enough to survive.

She knew she did not match him.

He was stable. Respected. Settled.

She was… surviving.

She hid her love behind jokes. Behind ghosts. Behind imaginary threats.

Because if she ever spoke seriously,
if she ever removed the laughter,

he might see how deeply she loved him.

And that was far more terrifying than being called a bhooth.

Dream - Part 1

 

An Incomplete Love

Some loves begin loudly.
Theirs began in laughter.

Ananya and Arjun were just friends — at least that is what the world knew. They shared tea breaks, unfinished jokes, long walks that had no destination, and conversations that never really ended. To Arjun, she was comfort. To Ananya, he was everything.

Ananya did not remember the exact moment she fell in love with him. Maybe it was the way he listened without interrupting. Maybe it was the way he adjusted his pace when she walked slower. Or maybe it was the dangerous kindness in his eyes — the kind that makes you feel chosen even when you are not.

Her love was not loud.
It was deep. Terrifyingly deep.

If a day passed without seeing him, she felt incomplete — like a sentence without its last word. If he did not call, she would stare at her phone, pretending not to wait. If he laughed with someone else, her heart would shrink quietly, invisibly.

She never confessed.
She stayed playful instead.

She teased him. Mocked him. Stole his pen. Hid his notebook. Called him dramatic. Rolled her eyes at his serious talks. Laughed too loudly at his smallest jokes. It was her way of loving him without admitting she was in love.

Arjun mistook her playfulness for lightness.
“She doesn’t take anything seriously,” he once told a friend.
He didn’t know she took him more seriously than her own heartbeat.

To him, she was fun. Easy. Carefree.
To her, he was home.

Some nights, Ananya would sit by her window and whisper his name into the silence, as if the wind could carry her feelings to him. She would promise herself not to expect too much. Not to hope. Not to dream.

But love is stubborn.

And hers was the kind that doesn’t fade just because it is unseen.

It was an incomplete love —
whole in her heart,
unfinished in his.

And that was how the dream began.

Aye Maalik Tere Bande Hum - Lyrics ( One of my first fav song in HINDI)

aye maalik tere bande hum
aysein hon hamaare karam
naykee par chalein aur badhee se talein
taaki hastein huye nikale dum
aye maalik tere bande hum

badaa kamzor hai aadmi
abhi laakhon hain isme kameen
par tu joh khadaa hai dayalu badaa
teri kirpaa se dharti thamee
diya toone hamein jab janam
tuhee jhelega hum sab ke gum
naykee par chalein aur badhee se talein
taaki hastein huye nikale dum
aye maalik tere bande hum

ye andhera ghanaa cha raha
tera insaan ghabara raha
ho raha bekhabar kuch na aata nazar
sukh ka sooraj chupaa ja raha
hai teri raushani mein joh dum
tu amaavas ko kar de poonam
naykee par chalein aur badhee se talein
taaki hastein huye nikale dum
aye maalik tere bande hum

jab zulmon ka ho saamanaa
tab tuhee hamein thamanaa
woh burayee karein hum bhalayee bharein
nahi badle ki ho kamanaa
badh uthe pyaar ka har kadam
aur mitein baeyr ka ye bharam
naykee par chalein aur badhee se talein
taaki hastein huye nikale dum
aye maalik tere bande hum

A Thank You on Valentine

Valentine day feels soft and strange,
A whispered “miss you” in disguise;
No roses left for hearts to change,
Just quiet truth behind my eyes.

I send no promises to stay,
No fragile dreams for us to try;
Only a gentle word today
I miss you… and goodbye.

Yet thank you for the love once I felt,
For every smile, for every sigh;
For though I walk this road until I knelt,
Your memory taught my heart to fly.