Rakshashi Curse #2

The next morning, Kunal woke up and sat on the edge of his bed for a long time, replaying his conversations with Rashmi. At least ten lines from their talk could go straight into his book. Talking with her was like a breath of fresh air for his creativity; she was his muse.

He remembered the end of the night with a bittersweet smile. He had asked her to stay when she wanted to leave.

“No, I can’t stay. You’ll get too attached to me,” she said, running with her shoes in her hand. He watched her climb onto a motorcycle driven by a helmeted figure clad in black. The biker saluted him before zooming off. Was this how the prince felt when Cinderella ran away?

He got up and made himself some coffee. As he sipped, his eyes fell on a curious note on the fridge: “Write. Don’t call me today. Don’t be distracted. Write!” He chuckled. How could someone so beautiful have such terrible handwriting?

Just as he sat down to pick up his pen, his phone rang. It was his friend Shant. He always laughed at the irony of Shant’s full name, Shantha Kumar. Shant was anything but calm—always loud, often drunk, and generally a source of chaos. How had he survived engineering days with this fellow?

The event that brought Rashmi into his life was one Shant had dragged him to. It was a celebration for Shant’s business success, having acquired more planes for his aviation company, a venture handed down by his father.

A loud, chaotic celebration for a milestone in an industry that prided itself on precision and calm. Amidst the noise and excitement, he met Rashmi. She was an air hostess for Shant’s airline, poised and graceful in a sea of boisterous energy.

Shant dragging Kunal from one conversation to another. Kunal, however, found himself gravitating toward Rashmi, drawn to her presence. He kept looking over himself to catch her eye again.

She stood out in the crowded room, not just because of her striking looks—though she was beautiful with her deep brown eyes and flowing black hair—but because of her calm presence. Rashmi moved gracefully, attending to guests with a composed demeanor that Kunal found mesmerizing. There was something strangely mysterious about her.

When their eyes finally met, she offered him a warm smile. It wasn’t forced but genuine, reaching her eyes and sparking something within him. Curious, he made his way over to her, feeling an unexpected surge of nervousness. He put his hand inside his pocket and felt his pen, something to anchor him in the present.

“Hi, I’m Kunal,” he introduced himself, extending a hand.

“Rashmi,” she replied, shaking his hand with a firm yet gentle grip. “You must be Shant’s friend. He always talks about you at every event, saying you are the reason he survived and passed engineering.”

“Shant can be quite the handful,” Kunal said, glancing over at his friend, who was enthusiastically recounting a story to a group of guests.

“I can tell. He’s certainly… lively.” She laughed softly, a melodious sound that seemed to cut through all the noise.

They talked for the rest of the night, finding a quiet corner away from the party. Rashmi shared stories of her travels, the places she had seen, and the people she had met. Her passion for her work was evident, and Kunal found himself captivated by her tales. His eyes alternated between her eyes and lips.

“One of the most memorable places I’ve been to was Kyoto,” Rashmi said, her eyes lighting up. “The cherry blossoms were in full bloom. It was like stepping into another world.”

“I have always wanted to visit Japan,” Kunal admitted. “There is something so beautiful about it. Did you have a favorite spot there?”

“Arashiyama Bamboo Grove,” Rashmi replied. “Walking through those towering bamboo stalks felt almost magical.”

Rashmi was more than just a pretty face. She was intelligent, witty, and had a depth to her that Kunal found intriguing. She spoke about how she often found comfort in books during long flights.

“I always carry a book with me,” Rashmi said, smiling. “It’s my escape, my way of unwinding.”

“What’s your favorite book?” Kunal asked, genuinely curious. That was the only question to ask a book lover.

“That’s a tough one,” Rashmi replied. “But if I had to choose, it would be ‘Pride and Prejudice’ by Jane Austen.”

“That’s a great choice,” Kunal said.

“I’ve been stuck on this one chapter for weeks,” Kunal confessed. “Every time I sit down to write, it feels like the words just won’t come.”

She listened intently as Kunal spoke about his struggles with his latest book. He had discovered people usually got bored when he talked about writing but not her.

Their conversation flowed effortlessly. Kunal felt a genuine connection. As the night wore on, he realized he didn’t want it to end.

“You know, it’s refreshing to talk to someone who shares the same passion for literature,” Rashmi said, her eyes twinkling. “It feels like I can be myself with you.”

“I feel the same way,” Kunal replied, feeling a warmth spread through him. “It’s rare to meet someone who truly understands.”

“I really enjoyed tonight,” Rashmi said, giving him a sincere smile.

“Me too,” Kunal said. “Maybe we can continue this conversation sometime?”

“I would like that,” Rashmi replied, her smile widening. “Goodnight, Kunal.”

“Goodnight, Rashmi.”

That night marked the beginning of something special. As he watched her walk away, he felt a sense of anticipation for what the future might hold.

Just as Kunal was about to answer Shant’s call, he hesitated. Shant always managed to derail his plans, and he couldn’t afford any distractions today. He let the call go to voicemail and focused on the task at hand.

The phone rang again. It was Rashmi this time. He couldn’t ignore her call.

“Good morning,” her voice was a melody in his ears.

“Morning, Rashmi,” Kunal replied, a smile spreading across his face. “I was just thinking about our conversation last night.”

“Me too,” she said. “Listen, I know you have a lot of writing to do today, but I wanted to share something with you. A quote that reminded me of our talk. ‘We write to taste life twice, in the moment and in retrospect.‘ It made me think of how you pour your heart into your stories.”

“That’s beautiful,” Kunal said, touched. “Exactly what I needed to hear.”

“I will let you get back to your writing now. Just wanted to give you a little boost.” He was right to assume that she winked on the other side of the phone.

“You always know how to inspire me,” Kunal replied. “Thank you.”

With renewed energy and the quote echoing in his mind, he picked up his pen and began to write. The words flowed effortlessly.

As the hours passed, Kunal lost himself in his work, the characters and stories coming to life on the pages. He wrote with a fervor he hadn’t felt in years, the memory of Rashmi’s smile and the sound of her laughter fueling his creativity.

By the end of the day, Kunal had written more than he had in weeks. He leaned back in his chair, a satisfied smile on his face. He couldn’t wait to share his progress with her.

That evening, as he prepared to call it a night, he received a text from Rashmi: “I hope your writing went well today. Remember, you have a gift. Keep shining.”

Kunal’s heart swelled with gratitude. He left a voice note saying: “It went wonderfully, thanks to you. Your words mean more to me than you know. Goodnight, Rashmi.”

“Goodnight, Kunal,” came the reply.

As he drifted off to sleep, Kunal felt a deep sense of peace. And for the first time in a long while, he felt truly hopeful about the future.