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Potential ka Achaar dalu kya

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15 May '24
2 min read


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The kettle whistled on the gas, its shrill cry echoing in the quiet of the night. Prachi slammed the laptop shut, the glow of the screen momentarily illuminating the worry lines etched on her forehead. She glanced at Abhijeet, sprawled on the sofa, flipping through channels on the TV.

"Kuch khaana hai?" (Do you want anything to eat?) she asked, her voice laced with a hint of forced cheer.

Abhijeet grunted, not taking his eyes off the flickering screen. Prachi sighed, pouring herself a cup of steaming chai. The silence stretched, heavy and uncomfortable. Finally, she couldn't hold it in anymore.

"Abhi, yeh interview bhi nahi mili," (Abhi, I didn't get this interview either) she said, swirling the tea in her cup with a clinking spoon.

Abhijeet finally looked up, a flicker of concern in his eyes. "It's okay, yaar. Hogi koi na koi. Itne toh degrees hain tere paas." (It's okay, buddy. You'll get something. You have so many degrees after all.)You have so much potential. 

Prachi scoffed. "Degrees aur potential ka achaar dalu kya, Abhi? Bills bharne hain, EMI deni hain." (What am I supposed to do with my degrees, Abhi? We have bills to pay, EMIs to clear.)

Abhijeet sat up, placing the remote on the coffee table. "Prachi, tu tension mat le. Tu bahut talented hai. Woh interior designing wala course yaad hai? Woh showroom design jiska sabne - tarif,(appreciation) ki thi?" (Prachi, don't worry. You're very talented. Remember that interior designing course? The showroom design that everyone appreciated?)

Prachi's shoulders slumped. "Woh freelance tha, Abhi. Full-time job nahi mili na. Aur kitna freelance karoon main? Stability chahiye mujhe." (That was freelance, Abhi. I couldn't find a full-time job. How much longer can I keep freelancing? I need stability.)

Abhijeet reached out, taking her hand in his. His warm touch sent a wave of comfort through her. "Stability toh hogi. But tujhmein woh hai, Prachi. Woh passion, woh chutzpah - Der se hi sahi, tera time aayega." (There will be stability. But you have that spark, Prachi. That passion, that audacity. It might be late, but your time will come.)

Prachi squeezed his hand back, a sliver of hope flickering in her eyes. Maybe Abhijeet was right. Maybe her potential wasn't just for show. Maybe, just maybe, her time was indeed around the corner. The chai in her cup had gone cold, forgotten. But a new warmth, a renewed determination, bloomed in her heart.

Category : Prose


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Written by Shruti Roy