🌿 Time to take a little break from reality.

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Haseena walked straight toward Platform 8 without slowing down. Karishma followed, looking around at the boards overhead. Then she stopped.

Mumbai – Lonavala.

"Di..."

Haseena kept walking. "Hmm?"

"We're going to Lonavala?"

Haseena smiled without turning around. "Haan."

Karishma's eyes went huge. "Sach mein?"

"Hmm."

"Hum kabhi nahi gaye wahan!" she said, already catching up.

"I know," Haseena said simply.

They found their seats easily. Karishma made a beeline for the window and Haseena didn't even try stopping her. She already knew. Karishma wiped the glass with her palm even though it wasn't dirty, then pressed her face close and looked outside.

"Hume window seat mil gayi!"

Haseena laughed. "Jaise lottery lag gayi ho."

"Lag hi gayi."

A vendor walked through the aisle. "Coffee... chai..."

Karishma turned immediately. "Di—"

"Nahi."

"Par—"

"Nahi."

A vada pav vendor followed right behind. Karishma slowly looked at Haseena. Haseena looked at the ceiling for a moment.

"Theek hai."

Five minutes later they had coffee, vada pav, chips, and somehow chocolate too. Karishma took a happy bite and leaned back contentedly.

"Best trip."

Haseena raised an eyebrow. "Abhi train chali bhi nahi."

Karishma shrugged. "Tab bhi."

The train slowly pulled out of CSTM. Buildings slid past the window, then crowded streets, flyovers, signals — the usual Mumbai chaos. But gradually things began changing. Tall buildings got smaller. Concrete gave way to trees. Even the air coming through the door felt different.

Karishma didn't blink.

Every few minutes she turned back.

"Di!"

"Hmm?"

"Cow!"

"Hmm."

A little later.

"Di!"

"Hmm?"

"Waterfall!"

"Hmm."

A few minutes more.

"Diii!"

"Hmm?"

"Pahad!"

This time Haseena actually looked outside. Small green hills had started appearing in the distance, soft against the sky. She smiled quietly.

"Haan."

Then came the ghats. Green hills on every side, tiny waterfalls cutting through the rocks, mist sitting low on the curves. Small dark tunnels swallowed the train whole and spat it out the other side. Clouds rested so close to the mountains they looked like they belonged there. Karishma pressed herself against the glass and shifted sides every time the train turned, trying not to miss anything. She looked exactly like a child on her first school picnic.

Haseena watched her quietly. Karishma hadn't smiled like this in weeks. Maybe months. Maybe longer. That alone made the entire trip worth it.

Neither of them talked much after that. Karishma still pointed at things every few minutes — monkeys on the rocks, a waterfall disappearing into the trees, sometimes absolutely nothing at all. "Kitna accha hai yaar," she murmured softly at one point, more to herself than anyone else.

Haseena just nodded. "Hmm."

The train began slowing down. The announcement echoed through the coach.

"Next station... Lonavala."

Karishma sat up immediately and was already standing near the door before Haseena could say anything. The doors opened. The first thing she noticed wasn't the station — it was the air. Cool and fresh and nothing like Mumbai. She took one slow breath, then another. A wide smile spread across her face.

She turned back toward Haseena.

"Di... this place already feels different."

Haseena picked up their bags and looked at her younger sister — really looked at her.

"I know," she said softly.

And without another word, both sisters stepped out together onto the platform, into the cool Lonavala air.

The station disappeared behind them as they walked out. Cool wind brushed their faces, carrying the faint smell of wet soil and trees. No endless buildings, no loud horns, no one rushing anywhere. Everything felt slower.

Karishma took a deep breath. Then another. Then looked at Haseena.

"Di, yahan ki hawa bhi itni peacefully chalti hai. Mumbai mein notice hi nahi hota."

Haseena laughed. "Nahi. Yahan wali hawa special hai."

Karishma nodded seriously. "Lag bhi raha hai."

They booked a car. The driver smiled through the mirror.

"Pehli baar aaye ho?"

Karishma answered before Haseena could. "Haan!"

He chuckled. "Phir toh maza aayega."

As the car left the town, the roads became narrower and trees stood on both sides. Tiny houses appeared every now and then. Some children played cricket in an empty field. A few dogs slept lazily in the shade. Karishma rested her elbow near the window and simply watched, not once reaching for her phone.

After twenty minutes the car slowed and stopped in front of a large black gate. Karishma frowned.

"Di... address galat aa gaya kya?"

Haseena smiled and pressed the bell. The gate opened automatically.

It was a clean white house, freshly painted, simple and neat — big windows, a small wooden balcony, a garden out front with flowers still settling in. A swing hung from one of the tall trees nearby. All around it, nothing but thick green trees, quiet in every direction. Wind moved softly through the branches. Birds called somewhere in the distance.

Karishma stood there without speaking for a long moment.

"Hasu Di... log sach mein aisi jagah rehte hain?"

"Haan," Haseena said.

Karishma looked around once more and whispered almost to herself, "Hume yahi rehna hai."

The house felt warm inside. Wooden furniture, large windows, soft sunlight coming through everywhere. Plants on the shelves, a small fireplace in the corner. Karishma walked straight to the biggest window. Outside, only trees. No traffic, no buildings, no noise.

She smiled slowly. "Di, hume yahan network bhi nahi aa raha."

Haseena looked at her. "Problem?"

"Nahi," Karishma said, still looking outside. "Bahut acchi baat hai."

Within ten minutes she had already inspected every room — kitchen, bedrooms, balcony, backyard, garden. She even opened cupboards that weren't hers. Finally she came back to Haseena.

"Di."

"Hmm?" Haseena said, still unpacking.

"Yahan ghost toh nahi hai?"

Haseena continued folding clothes without looking up. "Hoga."

Karishma froze. "KYA?"

"Humne bhi abhi tak nahi dekha," Haseena said calmly.

Karishma stared at her for two full seconds, grabbed the nearest cushion, and threw it directly at her.

"Darao mat!"

Outside, the swing moved gently in the wind. Karishma sat on it and pushed herself once, then twice, then higher — like a child who had completely forgotten she was tired. After a minute she looked back.

"Di! Aap bhi aao."

"Tum jhulo."

"Nahi. Dono."

Haseena sighed dramatically and came to sit beside her. The swing moved slowly, back and forth, and neither of them spoke. The wind did enough talking on its own.

As the sun began setting the sky turned soft orange and birds started heading home. The whole place became even quieter. Karishma rested her head against the rope of the swing.

"Di... hum yahan kitne din rukenge?"

Haseena looked toward the horizon. "Jitne din zarurat hai."

Karishma didn't fully understand the answer. She smiled anyway.

"Theek hai."

That night, after dinner, Karishma stepped outside once more and looked up.

The sky stopped her completely. Thousands of stars — far more than she had ever seen from Mumbai. She stood there without moving, just looking.

"Itne saare..." she whispered.

Haseena came and stood beside her quietly. "Haan."

Karishma didn't take her eyes off the sky. "Yahan raat bhi shor nahi karti."

For the first time in a very long time, her heart felt quiet.

That night, both sisters shared the same bed. Not because the other was too small, not because either of them asked. It just happened the way it used to — Haseena pulling the blanket over both of them without a word, Karishma shifting closer without being told.

Haseena wrapped an arm around her and pulled her in, the way she used to when they were little and nights felt too long. Karishma didn't say anything. She just lay there, eyes open, staring at the ceiling while the trees moved quietly outside the window.

A few minutes passed. Haseena noticed she wasn't sleeping. So softly, almost under her breath, she started humming — an old lori, the kind their mother used to sing. No real words anymore, just the tune, quiet and familiar.

Karishma's eyes slowly stopped blinking. A smile appeared on her face, small and warm and completely involuntary — the kind that comes before you even realize it's there. She pulled the blanket up a little and closed her eyes properly.

She had forgotten how much she missed this. Someone holding her like she was still someone's little sister. Someone who didn't need her to be okay.

Within minutes, she was asleep. Haseena felt the moment her breathing changed. She stopped humming and looked at her for a quiet second. Then she closed her own eyes too.

The first rays of sunlight slipped through the curtains before either of them woke up. No alarm, no academy whistle, no phone buzzing. Just birds — a lot of them.

Karishma slowly opened one eye. Blinked twice. Then sat up immediately.

"Di!"

Haseena groaned. "Kya?"

"Chidiya. Bohot saari."

"Please sone do."

Karishma jumped out of bed anyway and pulled the curtains open. Golden sunlight flooded the room. Outside, mist floated above the trees and tiny birds hopped across the garden.

She turned around. "Di. Utho. Nature wait nahi karega."

Haseena buried her face deeper into the pillow. "Nature ko bol do aadha ghanta ruk jaaye."

Half an hour later both sisters walked through the quiet lanes with hands tucked inside hoodie pockets. Cool air brushed against their faces. Every house had flowers outside. Dogs stretched lazily near gates. Old couples walked at their own pace. Nobody hurried, nobody shouted.

Karishma whispered, "Log yahan itne shaant kaise rehte hain?"

Haseena smiled. "Network slow hoga."

Karishma laughed. "Sahi hai."

A few minutes into the walk, Karishma suddenly stopped.

"Di. Dekho." A beautiful pink flower peeked through someone's fence. "Kitna accha hai na."

Haseena already knew that look. "Nahi."

"Ek hi toh hai."

"Nahi."

"Bas ek."

"Nahi."

Karishma looked left, then right, then left again. "No witnesses."

Before Haseena could say another word — snap. Flower in hand. Karishma tucked it proudly behind her ear.

Haseena folded her arms. "Chor."

"Nature se friendship ki hai," Karishma said with great dignity.

Exactly then a voice came from inside. "Arre beta!" An elderly uncle stepped out into the garden. Karishma immediately hid the flower behind her back.

"Ji..."

The uncle smiled warmly. "Ek aur tod lo. Hamare garden ka hi hai."

Karishma looked at Haseena. Then at the uncle. Then happily picked another one.

"Thank you!"

As they walked away, Haseena laughed quietly. "Dekha? Permission maangte toh pehle hi mil jaati."

Karishma looked genuinely offended. "Adventure ka kya hota phir?"

Back at the villa, they found a bat near the backyard. Karishma picked it up immediately.

"Match?"

Haseena nodded. "Chalo."

The rules changed every over. Whenever Haseena got out, it was a no ball. Whenever Karishma got out, the bat was slippery. After fifteen minutes, the ball sailed cleanly over the boundary wall and landed with a distant thud on a balcony next door.

Both sisters looked at each other.

Silence.

Karishma whispered, "Mission impossible."

Haseena pointed at her. "Tum jao."

"Kyu?"

"Tumne maara."

"Team game hai," Karishma said very seriously.

They walked around to the neighbouring villa. Gate locked. No bell. No sign of anyone inside. Karishma pressed her face against the bars.

"Koi nahi hai."

Haseena looked at the balcony where the ball sat, perfectly visible, completely unreachable.

"Chodo. Naya le lenge."

Karishma turned toward her with an expression that suggested this was absolutely not an acceptable solution.

"Woh ball nahi hai Di. Woh izzat ka sawaal hai."

What followed was a full survey of the society. It turned out they were in a gated community of nearly a hundred villas, and Karishma walked through it with the focused energy of a detective on a case. Haseena followed, already regretting everything.

Three minutes later, Karishma stopped outside a garden where a long wooden ladder leaned casually against a wall. Her eyes lit up.

"Di."

"Nahi," Haseena said immediately.

Karishma gestured toward the ladder reasonably. "Chiz apni hai, bata nhi kon inhe police banayega."

"Hum police wale nhi choro wale kam kar rahe hai ghar mai ghus kar wo bhi dusro ki siddhi chura ke."

"Khud ki cheez lena jurm nahi hai."

Haseena had no answer for that logic. Two minutes later, both sisters were carrying the wooden ladder through the society lanes, Karishma at the front and Haseena at the back, navigating carefully around every corner. The ladder was old, slightly crooked, and definitely longer than either of them had expected.

"Thoda left," Karishma said.

"Tum left le rahi ho ya hum?"

"Dono."

"Yeh same direction hai Karu."

They placed the ladder against the compound wall. Haseena held it firmly from below while Karishma climbed up, retrieved the ball from the balcony railing, and came back down looking deeply satisfied.

"Dekha?"

"Haan," Haseena said flatly. "Ab ladder wapas rakhte hain."

"Ruko." Karishma had already turned around, looking at the trees behind the adjoining garden. Her eyes had gone wide again. "Di."

Two trees stood there — one heavy with dark kala jamuns hanging in clusters, another with pale white ones. Both full of fruit. Both just high enough to be completely inconvenient.

"Nahi," Haseena said.

"Ladder toh hai hamare paas already."

Haseena looked at the ladder, then at the trees, then at Karishma's face. She sighed the sigh of someone who already knew they had lost.

They set the ladder against the thicker tree. Still not enough — the best branches were just out of reach. Karishma spotted a long thick stick leaning against the wall, grabbed it, and started swinging at the branches from the top of the ladder.

Jamuns rained down in bursts. Haseena stood below catching what she could and dodging the rest. A few landed on her head with small undignified thuds.

"Karu, sahi se girao na. Lag rahi hai sar pe."

Karishma was laughing too hard to aim properly. "Niche aa toh rahe hain. Bunch mein aate hain toh lagenge hi thoda."

"Mere sar pe aa rahe hain."

"Solution nahi hai. Niche aa rahe hain, pakdo bas."

Then Karishma spotted them. Half hidden behind the jamun branches — a cluster of raw mangoes, small and green and perfect. She pointed the stick toward them.

"Di. Aam."

Haseena looked up. "Bilkul nahi."

"Lagta hai inki dictionary mein 'nahi' ke alawa koi word hi nahi hai," Karishma muttered, already climbing down.

She picked up a stone from the ground, squinted, aimed carefully, and threw. Complete miss. Second stone — the branch shook but nothing fell. Third stone — a single leaf drifted down. Karishma stared at it.

"Theek hai. Plan B."

Before Haseena could ask what Plan B was, Karishma had already spotted a low boundary ledge along the garden edge and climbed onto it, getting just high enough to reach the lower branches with the stick.

Haseena pulled the largest dupatta from her bag, stretched it wide between both hands, and started moving underneath — left, right, forward, back — trying to calculate where things would fall and getting there before they did. It was not graceful.

Karishma hit the branch properly this time. Four mangoes dropped at once — two into the dupatta, one onto the grass, and one directly onto Haseena's head.

"Karu!" Haseena yelped. "Sambhal ke! Lag rahi hai!"

Karishma doubled over on the ledge laughing. "Di sorry — par aap kitni fast bhaag rahi thi!"

"Tum hit karo ek jagah, main dupatta ek jagah, aur cheez gir rahi hai teen jagah!"

"System mein thodi problem hai," Karishma agreed, still laughing.

Another cluster of jamuns fell from the first tree without warning and scattered across Haseena's shoulders. She stood there for a second — covered in fruit, dupatta still stretched in both hands — and looked at her younger sister with an expression somewhere between exhausted and genuinely amused.

Karishma was holding the wall for support, laughing so hard no sound was coming out anymore.

"Bahut maza aa raha hai na," Haseena said flatly.

"Di," Karishma wheezed. "Itna maza kabhi nahi aaya. Sach mein."

Without warning, tiny drops of rain began falling. Karishma looked up at the sky. Within seconds it became heavier. Haseena ran toward the veranda.

"Karu, aao!"

Karishma didn't move. She spread both arms wide, closed her eyes, and started spinning slowly — like she hadn't seen rain in years. Haseena watched her from the veranda for a moment. Then, quietly, she stepped back out into the rain too. Neither of them spoke, neither cared that their clothes were soaked. For those few minutes they simply laughed like children, for no reason at all.

Night arrived quietly, fresh after the rain. The road outside glistened under yellow streetlights. Both sisters sat outside the villa with ice creams, not saying much, just existing comfortably in the same space.

Karishma looked up at the sky for a long moment, then at Haseena. A soft smile appeared on her face.

"Di."

"Hmm?"

"Thank you. For bringing me here."

Haseena looked at her, then looked away. She bumped Karishma's shoulder gently — exactly the way she always did.

Some thank yous didn't need replies. They just needed someone beside you.

Sometimes healing doesn't begin with words. Sometimes it begins with finally finding a place quiet enough to hear yourself again. 💙

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𓂃 🖋️ 2666

And that's it for today!

See you soon! ✨