24 Small Moments #2
"Where exactly are you kidnapping us to on a Saturday morning?"
With a dramatic flourish, Ansh opened the back door of the car. "Get in."
"This is incredibly suspicious, Bhai," Diya warned, narrowing her eyes at him.
"Trust me," he said smoothly.
"I don't."
"You really should."
Despite her dramatic skepticism, Diya climbed into the back seat without another word. Niyati chuckled at the familiar sibling routine before stepping around to slip comfortably into the front passenger seat.
"You do realise she's going to spend the entire drive asking you endless questions, right?" Niyati teased, turning to look at him as he got behind the wheel.
Ansh adjusted his rearview mirror, offering her a quiet, fond look. "I fully counted on it."
"I heard that!" Diya's voice chimed in loudly from the back.
"I know you did," Ansh shot back with a light laugh, turning the key in the ignition.
As the engine hummed to life and the car pulled away from the curb, a refreshing sense of ease settled over the three of them.
For the first time in weeks, there were no pressing assignment deadlines, no early morning lectures, and no corporate project files demanding their attention. The entire Saturday belonged to them, and the sprawling expanse of Delhi waited just beyond the windscreen, ready to be explored.
Their very first stop was India Gate. The broad, sprawling lawns surrounding the monument were vibrant and alive with the energy of a weekend crowd-families spreading out picnic blankets, children frantically chasing colorful foil balloons, tourists snapping photographs,
and local vendors calling out cheerfully as they sold hot roasted corn, ice cream, and fluttering tricolor pinwheels.
Naturally, Diya immediately took charge of their itinerary, insisting on taking at least fifty photographs to document the outing.
"Stand properly, Bhai!" she instructed, holding her phone up at eye level.
Ansh stood near the landscaped flowerbeds, adjusting his collar. "I am standing properly, Diya."
"No, smile!" she demanded.
"I am smiling."
"You look like someone forced you to pay taxes," Diya scoffed, shaking her head.
Niyati, who was standing beside her watching the spectacle, laughed so hard she nearly dropped her own phone. "Honestly, Ansh, she's right. You look terrified."
Ansh looked between the two of them, letting out a long-suffering sigh. "Both of you are completely impossible."
"Just smile properly, Bhai!" Diya pressed, tapping her screen impatiently.
Relaxing his shoulders, Ansh finally let out a genuine, easy laugh, his eyes crinkling naturally as he looked toward the camera. "There. Happy?"
"Much better!" Diya exclaimed.
Click.
The camera lens caught all three of them mid-laugh-Diya grinning triumphantly with her phone extended, Ansh looking relaxed and handsome with his hands in his pockets, and Niyati standing close beside him, her face lit up with genuine joy.
None of them realized it at the time, but that fleeting, sunlit moment captured on a quiet Saturday morning would eventually become one of their absolute favorite photographs for many years to come.
The afternoon slowly melted into evening as the three of them wandered through the vibrant, bustling lanes of Janpath Market.
The market was humming with energy-an endless maze of tiny stalls overflowing with handcrafted jewellery, embroidered juttis, stacks of oxidised bangles, leather handbags, intricate dreamcatchers, and traditional clothes in every shade imaginable.
Diya had already vanished somewhere between a stall selling oversized sunglasses and another stacked high with colorful scarves. "I'm just going to take a quick look!" she called out over her shoulder, her voice almost swallowed by the noise of the crowd.
Ansh and Niyati paused in the middle of the narrow lane, exchanging an amused, knowing look.
"Famous last words," Ansh muttered, shaking his head with a faint smile.
Less than five minutes later, Diya reappeared through the throngs of shoppers, balancing three pristine shopping bags on her forearm.
Niyati folded her arms over her chest, trying her best to look stern. "I thought you were just looking."
"I did look," Diya insisted defensively.
Niyati raised an eyebrow. "...And?"
"And I accidentally bought things," Diya replied, adjusting the bags on her arm with complete innocence.
"Accidentally, Diya?"
"The oxidised earrings emotionally manipulated me, Niyati. It was self-defense."
Ansh let out a quiet laugh, stepping beside his sister. "You and shopping truly deserve each other."
"Hush, Bhai," Diya huffed, though a grin betrayed her. "I'm going to look at those leather journal covers over there. Don't leave without me!"
As Diya drifted toward another nearby stall, Niyati slowed her pace, her gaze caught by a modest, brightly lit jewellery kiosk. Dozens of delicate silver pieces sparkled beneath the warm yellow bulbs-tiny pearls, intricate hoops, hand-painted jhumkas, and rose-gold studs hanging in neat rows.
Her eyes rested on one particular pair resting on a velvet tray. They were simple and breathtakingly elegant: small silver earrings shaped like tiny, detailed leaves, with a single, lustrous pearl suspended beneath each one.
Unconsciously, Niyati reached out and gently lifted the tray to examine them closer.
The old shopkeeper smiled warmly. "Very nice choice, madam. Pure sterling silver, handmade."
"How much are they?" Niyati asked softly.
The shopkeeper quoted the price. Niyati's smile flickered just slightly-not because the craftsmanship wasn't worth the cost, but because she had strictly promised herself she would be careful with her spending until her next monthly allowance arrived. She couldn't justify the indulgence today.
Carefully, almost reluctantly, she set the tray back down on the counter. "They really are beautiful," she murmured.
"They would suit you very well, beta," the shopkeeper added encouragingly.
Niyati offered an apologetic smile. "Maybe next time."
Stepping back into the flow of the crowd, she turned away before she could change her mind, speeding up to catch up with Diya.
She never noticed Ansh slowing his steps a few paces behind, his eyes quietly lingering on the small jewellery stall.
Nor did she notice him briefly stepping out of the crowd while she was distracted looking at hand-blocked stoles further down the lane.
Nearly an hour later, the city lights had begun to flicker to life as Ansh pulled his car up to the hostel gates. The moment the engine cut out, Diya let out a dramatic, bone-deep yawn, slumping against her headrest.
"I am never walking again. My feet have officially resigned."
"You say that after literally every single shopping trip, Diya," Ansh replied smoothly, turning around in his seat to look at her.
"And I mean it with absolute sincerity every single time."
Niyati laughed softly, gathering her tote bag from the floorboard. She turned to Ansh, her eyes warm and earnest. "Thanks for today, Ansh. Honestly, it was the best break we could have asked for."
"My pleasure," he replied, his voice dropping into that familiar, gentle cadence. "Get some rest, both of you."
The girls unbuckled their seatbelts and stepped out into the cool evening air.
Diya offered a lazy wave over her shoulder before heading off toward her wing of the building, completely exhausted and eager to collapse into her room.
Niyati adjusted her tote bag over her shoulder, giving Ansh one last, lingering smile before heading toward her own room on the opposite floor.
It wasn't until twenty minutes later, after she had showered and returned to her room, that Niyati unzipped her tote bag to pull out her study notebook. Her roommate was already fast asleep, the room shrouded in soft moonlight and the low, quiet hum of the ceiling fan.