Reflections Still

After so many years, Natraj took the pain of finding each one from his intermediate batch and created a WhatsApp group. The group was buzzing from day one.

“Hey, where are you now?”

“Still in Delhi.”

“Wow, after 34 years, can’t believe I’m talking to you again.”

Everyone wanted to know how their classmates were doing. Each time a new person joined, the group would light up. There was teasing, laughter, old incidents shared, and plenty of photos from the past. Slowly the group grew to around 120 people.

Then Pinky from Mumbai suggested, “This is our 35th year of passing. Why don’t we all meet up for a reunion?”

The group went wild.

“Yes, let’s do it.”

“I’m in.”

“June is perfect.”

People started posting pictures of their tickets. “NZ confirmed!” “Canada done!” “South Africa booking.” The Hyderabad friends took the responsibility of hosting.

Close to 100 people showed up. Laughter, music, drinks, dance — it felt like college all over again. No one looked like they were 50 plus. By evening, people had broken into their old groups.

“Look at you, same old crush still written on your face.”

“Arre, you’ve lost all your hair, what will your college sweetheart say now?”

“Stop body shaming me, at least I’m fitter than you.”

And in the middle of all the fun, there were two pairs of eyes looking at each other quietly. Priya and Suraj. Suraj’s friends teased him, “Look at Priya. Still the same, just a little weight. Don’t pretend you didn’t see her.” Suraj, shyly, raised his hand. Priya smiled back, walked up, greeted everyone, and then said, “Can I borrow Suraj for some time? Want to talk.”

The whole group roared, “Old flames never die!”

Next morning at the airport café, Priya was already waiting. She smiled, “Ordered your samosa and kadak chai. For me, coffee. Some things don’t change, right?” Suraj smiled, “And some people don’t change either.” Their eyes held for a second longer than normal.

She asked, “So, tell me. How’s life?”

He spoke about his company, his wife Surabi, and his kids. When he asked about her, she hesitated but said softly, “Parents are no more. I am divorced. My son is in Australia. I run Sheshoo, my NGO.”

Suraj looked at her with concern. “You’ve managed so much alone?”

Priya gave a small smile, “Life teaches you. But some parts… they remain empty.”

For a moment, silence hung between them. Both felt it. The same comfort, the same spark from years back. She looked down, breaking eye contact, and quickly changed the topic to old college days.

When they parted, Suraj wanted to say more, but held back. Priya too wanted to, but stopped herself.

Months later, Priya called. “I’m in town. Flight tomorrow morning. Can we meet?” Instead of a café, Suraj invited her home. Surabi, his wife, agreed though she teased him, “Short notice! Next time warn me, at least.”

When Priya arrived with flowers, Suraj’s heart skipped a beat. She looked graceful, elegant. He introduced her to Surabi, and soon both women were chatting like old friends.

Over dinner, Suraj mostly watched, smiling. But whenever Priya’s eyes met his across the table, there was a spark. A silent question.

Later, when Suraj dozed off on the couch, Priya and Surabi sat in the balcony. Surabi asked, “So, how was Suraj in college?”

Priya laughed, “Hopeless. Always cracking silly jokes. But… good at heart. Never thought bad for anyone. And yes, very handsome.”

Surabi giggled, “Not like now, right?”

Priya smiled, “Not like now.” But in her eyes, there was warmth. Next morning, when Suraj dropped her at the airport, she said softly, “It felt nice, being here. Like… coming home.”

After that, Priya and Surabi stayed in touch often. Suraj joked, “You’ve hijacked my friend. She calls you more than me.”

Then one evening, Priya called Suraj directly. Her voice was quiet. “Suraj, how about coming to Ashtamudi for a week?”

Suraj asked, “For what?”

She said, “I booked a houseboat. Just you and me. Talking. Catching up. Living the days we never got.”

Suraj was stunned. “Are you serious?”

She sent a photo of her ticket and the booking. Then messaged, “Life didn’t give us the chance then. I don’t want to leave it unfinished again.”

Suraj held the phone, his heart racing. The spark was alive. Stronger than ever.

Would he go? Or would he let it slip away again?

Suraj finally gave in. Something inside him told him this was not a prank. Maybe it was wrong, maybe it was right, but it was something his heart wanted after years. He booked his ticket and reached Ashtamudi.

As he stepped off the cab, he saw Priya waiting near the houseboat. She waved with that same smile he remembered from college. For a moment, the years in between melted away.

“Finally you came,” she said softly.

Suraj smiled, “I had no choice. You booked everything already.”

She laughed, “So you still listen to me, like in college days.”

They both boarded the boat. The backwaters stretched wide, calm, with coconut trees on both sides. The boat moved slowly, the water shining with evening sun.

They sat on the deck with tea and pakoras. Silence at first, then Suraj said, “You know, I thought about this a hundred times. Whether to come or not.”

Priya looked at him, “And now that you’re here?”

He paused, “I feel… lighter. Like I’m twenty again.”

Priya smiled, “Me too. All these years I kept thinking—what if? What if we hadn’t lost touch? What if life had gone differently?”

Suraj sighed, “Maybe we would have been together.”

For a moment, neither spoke. The sound of water filled the gap.

At night, dinner was served on the boat. Simple fish curry, rice, and chapati. Suraj teased, “Still remember, I never ate my tiffin, always depended on yours.”

Priya laughed, “And you used to finish it all, leaving nothing for me. Nothing has changed.”

Later, sitting under the open sky, she whispered, “Do you remember that day when we walked back from college in the rain? You held the umbrella, but you tilted it so that you got wet and I stayed dry.”

Suraj chuckled, “Because I wanted an excuse to walk closer to you.”

Priya looked at him quietly. “I knew. I always knew.”

Their eyes met. Time stood still.

Later on the deck, they poured themselves wine. The moon was full, its reflection shimmering on the water. The boat rocked gently, but sometimes the waves rose and slapped against the sides, making it feel dangerous.

Priya shivered slightly and said, “It feels scary, these waves… but also beautiful.” Her voice softened as she spoke, and slowly she leaned back on the couch. Talking turned into silence, and silence turned into sleep.

Suraj watched her for a moment. Her face looked calm in the moonlight. Instead of waking her or sitting too close, he quietly went inside, picked up a quilt, and covered her gently. He then lay down on another couch nearby and drifted off to sleep.

When Priya woke up, the quilt was still around her. She saw Suraj sleeping a little away, turned to one side, his face peaceful. A lump formed in her throat.

She went inside, made bed coffee, and came out holding two cups. When Suraj opened his eyes, he saw her standing there, her eyes moist.

“Good morning,” she whispered. “Here’s your coffee. Thank you… for last night.”

Suraj sat up, surprised. “For what?”

She gave a small smile, her eyes shining, “For being the same Suraj I always knew. Good from heart.”

As the boat moved again through the narrow canals, Priya said, “When I saw you at the reunion, all those old feelings came back. I tried to push them away. Even when I came to your house, I reminded myself you are married, you have a family. But… my heart doesn’t listen.”

Suraj stayed quiet for a while, then said, “You think I don’t feel the same? I typed so many messages and deleted them. I wanted to call, but stopped myself. I didn’t want you to think I was crossing a line. But the truth is, I never forgot you, Priya. Not then. Not now.”

Her eyes filled again. She reached across and held his hand.

That evening, the boat was anchored near a quiet stretch of the lake. The sun dipped slowly, painting the sky orange and pink. Priya and Suraj sat on the deck with their glasses of wine.

For a long time, neither spoke. The silence was not empty, it was heavy with all the things they wanted to say but had buried for years.

Finally, Priya broke it. “Do you ever wonder… if we had spoken back then? If we had not stayed silent in college?”

Suraj took a sip, his eyes on the water. “Many times. I wanted to tell you. But my family was strict, my father had already fixed plans for me. I thought… maybe we were too young, maybe it was just a phase. But I was wrong. Some feelings don’t go away.”

Priya looked at him. “You think I didn’t wait? Every day I hoped you’d say something. When you didn’t, I convinced myself you never felt the same.”

He turned to her, his voice softer. “And when I finally gathered courage, it was too late. Life had already moved us in different directions.”

She gave a sad smile. “Life has its way of playing games. But maybe… maybe we were meant to meet again now. At this age, when we know what matters and what doesn’t.”

Suraj raised his glass slightly. “To what matters.”

She touched her glass to his. “To what matters.”

The moon rose full again, silver light spreading across the backwaters. The gentle waves lapped against the boat. Priya’s eyes glistened.

“Suraj,” she whispered, “I don’t want to disturb your world. I don’t want to break what you’ve built. But I want you to know this—no one ever filled the space you left in me. Not in all these years.”

Suraj looked at her, his throat tight. “And no one filled yours in me, Priya. I smile, I work, I live… but when I’m quiet, it’s your face that comes back. Always.”

For a moment, both sat frozen. The distance of years dissolved. She leaned her head on his shoulder, and he let it rest there.

They didn’t speak after that. The moonlight, the water, and their silence said everything.

When dawn came, it felt like time was moving too fast. Their days on the boat were ending. Over the last cup of coffee, Priya’s voice trembled, “These moments… they will stay with me, Suraj. Always. Even if nothing else does.”

He nodded, his eyes moist, “Some memories are not meant to fade. And this… this is one of them.”

They hugged, long and wordless.

When he stepped off the boat, Suraj knew he was returning to his world, his family, his duties. But inside, he also knew-what they shared was real, alive, and eternal.