Chapter 13: The Colours of Silence

The Indira Gandhi Memorial Tulip Garden unfolded like a living canvas.
Rows of tulips stretched endlessly across the slopes—red, yellow, white, violet—each color standing distinct, yet part of a larger harmony. The Zabarwan hills rose behind them, silent and protective, while a soft breeze carried the faint scent of fresh blooms.
It was a place meant to be felt.
To be lived.

But Akash was somewhere else.

He walked slowly along the narrow path between the flower beds, hands tucked into his jacket pockets, eyes moving across the colors—but not really seeing them.
Fragments of the past still lingered.
The canteen. The debate. Her voice.

“Where are you lost?”

Ananya’s voice came gently beside him.

Akash blinked, turning slightly.
“Hmm? Nothing… just looking around.”

She smiled.
A knowing one.

“You’re not,” she said softly. “You’re thinking.”

He didn’t deny it.

Ananya adjusted her shawl, glancing ahead where the girls were busy taking photos among the tulips.
“Enjoy this,” she added. “Places like this don’t come often.”

Akash nodded.
But his silence remained.

Ananya didn’t press further.
She rarely did.

Instead, she moved ahead—toward Depabali.

🌷 “Beautiful, isn’t it?” Ananya said, stopping beside her.

Depabali looked around—at the colors, at the distant mountains.

“Yes,” she replied. “It feels… unreal.”

“Or maybe too perfect,” Ananya added with a soft smile.

Depabali glanced at her.
There was ease between them now.
Unexpected.
But real.

They began walking slowly together, side by side, the tulips stretching endlessly on either side.

“You’re not from Kolkata, right?” Ananya asked.

Depabali shook her head.
“No. Near Shantiniketan. A small village.”

Ananya’s eyes softened slightly.
“That must have been peaceful.”

“It was simple,” Depabali replied.
A pause.
“Not always peaceful.”

Ananya nodded—understanding more than the words.

“Family?” she asked gently.

“Father and mother,” Depabali said. “That’s all.”

“No siblings?”

She shook her head.

Ananya smiled faintly.
“I grew up in Durgapur. Quite different, I guess.”

Depabali looked at her.

“Industrial town,” Ananya continued. “Planned life. Good schools. Everything… structured.”

There was no pride in her voice.
Just clarity.

“You had options,” Depabali said.

Ananya smiled again.
“Yes.”
A brief pause.
“But options don’t always make decisions easier.”

⏳ The words lingered.

Depabali didn’t respond immediately.
Her eyes moved toward Asha, who stood slightly apart from the crowd of tourists, quietly observing the flowers instead of posing for pictures.

“She’s like you,” Ananya said softly.

Depabali looked at her.

“Asha,” Ananya added. “She watches more than she speaks.”

A faint smile touched Depabali’s lips.
“Yes.”

“And you?” Depabali asked after a moment. “You seem to understand people easily.”

Ananya looked ahead—toward Akash.
Standing a little distance away.
Still lost.

“I try,” she said.

There was something in her tone now—subtle, but aware.

“He hasn’t changed much, has he?” she added lightly.

Depabali didn’t answer immediately.

Somewhere, the past overlapped again.
The game room.
The canteen.
The quiet boy who spoke only when needed.

“No,” she said finally. “He hasn’t.”

The wind moved gently through the tulips, making them sway together in soft waves of color.

“So… college friends?” Ananya asked casually.

Depabali nodded.
“Yes.”

“Close?”

A small pause.

Depabali’s eyes lowered briefly.
Then lifted again.

“We never got that far.”

The answer was honest.
But incomplete.

Ananya didn’t push.

Because sometimes—what isn’t said… is already understood.

👀 From a distance, Akash looked toward them.

Two worlds.
Standing together.
Talking.

And he remained between them.

Not fully in either.

The tulips stretched endlessly.
Colorful. Alive.

Yet silent.

Like emotions that had existed for years—

Visible.

But never spoken.

❄️ To Be Continued…