୨ৎ 𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈'𝐒 𝐏𝐎𝐕 ୨ৎ

The bells of the Sri Yellamma Pochamma Devasthanam temple rang loudly, their echoes blending with the chants surrounding us. The smell of incense filled the air while devotees moved around peacefully, hands folded with faith shining in their eyes.

Tulsi stood beside me as we slowly walked out of the temple after one of the most beautiful darshans I had ever experienced.

Neha couldn't come because of some urgent work, so it was just me and Tulsi today.

People say the deity worshipped here — Goddess Yellamma, also known as Renuka Devi — is revered as a fertility goddess. The temple carries years of history within its walls, stories whispered through traditions older than anyone standing there today.

But honestly?

At that moment, my mind was occupied with something else entirely.

Mumbai.

Today, me and Tulsi were flying to Mumbai.

Not for vacations.
Not for Bollywood.
And definitely not for sightseeing.

We had been selected among a few medical students for a special learning program where experienced doctors and specialists would guide us for a few days. It was the kind of opportunity students usually dream about for years.

Meanwhile, most of my classmates seemed excited for an entirely different reason.

Cricketers.

Apparently, during our visit, we would also get a chance to meet players from Mumbai Indians and Sunrisers Hyderabad.

Everyone around me had practically lost their minds after hearing that information.

Except me.

I mean... I knew cricket was important. My entire family practically treated matches like national festivals. But somehow, I had never understood the obsession. I never stayed awake for matches, never memorized players, never screamed at televisions.

And honestly?

I didn't care enough to start now.

What excited me more was something far simpler.

For the first time in my life...

I was travelling without my parents.

That tiny freedom felt bigger than Mumbai itself.

After visiting Lord Jagannath in Puri, Odisha, we came straight to Hyderabad because there weren't any direct flights available for our schedule. So me and my best friend ended up spending an unexpected day here before our flight.

Which, surprisingly, wasn't bad at all.

"Hitu, hurry up!" Tulsi called while adjusting her dupatta dramatically. "If we miss this flight because you started emotionally admiring temple architecture again, I'll leave you here."

I rolled my eyes.

"You literally spent fifteen minutes taking aesthetic pictures near the entrance."

"That's called memories."

"That's called thirty-seven failed selfies."

She gasped in fake offence while I laughed quietly, finally feeling the nervousness in my chest settle a little.

Maybe this trip would actually be fun.

Or maybe it would become one of those chaotic experiences I'd later write about at 2 AM while questioning my life choices.

Honestly?

Both sounded possible.

After having lunch at a small restaurant near the temple, me and Tulsi finally reached Rajiv Gandhi International Airport.

The moment the automatic doors opened, cold air hit my face instantly.

People rushed everywhere with luggage in their hands, airport announcements echoed repeatedly, children cried dramatically for absolutely no reason, and somewhere nearby someone was arguing with security over extra baggage weight.

Typical airport chaos.

And somehow...

I loved it.

Maybe because this was the first time I was travelling without my parents constantly checking whether I had eaten properly or kept my boarding pass safely.

This felt different.

Independent.

Exciting.

A little scary too.

Tulsi, on the other hand, was too busy fixing her hair using her phone camera.

"What if we actually see cricketers?" she whispered excitedly.

I adjusted my backpack on my shoulder and deadpanned,
"What do you want me to do if that happens? Ask for batting tips?"

She smacked my arm lightly.

"You're impossible. Do you even realize how lucky we are?"

"No," I answered honestly.

She stared at me in disbelief while we moved toward the check-in counter.

"I still cannot believe your entire family watches cricket and you know absolutely nothing."

"I know enough."

"Oh really?" she challenged.

"Yes."

"Then tell me one famous cricketer."

I thought for two seconds.

"Virat Kohli?"

She looked horrified.

"That sounded less like an answer and more like a guess."

"It WAS a guess."

Tulsi looked ready to disown me right there in the airport.

Meanwhile, I simply laughed softly, looking around the crowded terminal with quiet excitement settling inside me.

New city.
New people.
New experiences.

Maybe this trip would finally give me something worth writing about.

After somehow surviving the endless airport procedures, I officially understood why airports made people lose their sanity.

First, Tulsi's luggage was overweight.

Not by a little.

By almost four kilos.

And instead of removing useful things like normal people, she stood there emotionally deciding between skincare products and heels while the line behind us looked ready to murder her.

"Pick one," I whispered aggressively.

"I NEED both."

"You do not need three perfumes for a two-day trip."

"What if my mood changes?"

I stared at her silently.

The airport staff looked equally exhausted.

After fifteen minutes of chaos, one dramatic argument, and Tulsi sacrificing a pair of heels like a fallen soldier, we finally escaped check-in.

Then came security.

Which somehow felt even worse.

My watch beeped.
Then my bag beeped.
Then apparently my water bottle was illegal to aviation society.

Meanwhile, Tulsi nearly forgot her phone in the tray and ran back like someone in a Bollywood climax scene.

By the time we finally entered the main terminal area, I was mentally prepared to retire from travelling forever.

And that's exactly when disaster struck.

The sudden, horrible, uncontrollable urge to pee.

Oh no.

No no no.

Not now.

As a human being, there are some battles you simply cannot win.

This was one of them.

"Tulsi, stay here," I blurted before immediately speed-walking away.

"Where are you going—"

"I'll die if I don't."

That was explanation enough.

I quickly disappeared into the crowd, searching desperately for a washroom while dragging my backpack behind me dramatically like a struggling traveller in a documentary.

The first washroom?

Cleaning in progress.

Of course.

The second one?

A line so long it looked like people were waiting for concert tickets.

The third one?

Occupied.
Occupied.
Occupied.
Occupied.

At this point, I was genuinely questioning every life decision that had led me here.

Why did airports have fifty coffee shops but not enough empty washrooms?

After nearly five to six minutes of wandering around like a lost soul, I finally found an unoccupied washroom hidden near a quieter corner of the terminal.

I nearly cried from relief.

Honestly, spiritual peace probably feels exactly like finding an empty airport washroom at the right time.
And then, like a very obedient citizen, I immediately switched my phone to airplane mode because obviously rules are rules.

Unlike some people who wait for the air hostess to personally threaten them.

After finally surviving my mini airport crisis, I walked out of the washroom feeling ten times lighter emotionally and physically.

I washed my hands, fixed my slightly messy hair, and most importantly—

reapplied my lip gloss.

Because priorities exist.

At this point, every single person in my life knew about my unhealthy obsession with lip gloss. I genuinely believed no problem in life looked THAT serious when your lips looked shiny.

My entire fashion personality was basically inspired by:
Katrina Kaif's lip gloss era,
Aishwarya Rai's iconic hair and elegance,
and Kareena Kapoor's Bebo attitude.

An emotionally unstable combination, honestly.

And my Spotify playlist?

Pure chaos.

You would never find heartbreak songs or depressing playlists there because I strongly believed sadness should be cured with loud item songs and dramatic dancing inside your room until exhaustion defeated emotional pain.

That was therapy.

Not those slow sad songs people listened to while staring at ceilings.

If I was sad, there was a high chance I was aggressively dancing to "Sheila Ki Jawani" with zero shame.

Fixing my hair one last time, I looked at myself in the mirror and nodded proudly.

Alive.
Hydrated.
Lip gloss reapplied.

Everything was under control again.

Yup.

I genuinely thought everything was under control again.

Big mistake.

The moment I stepped out of the washroom, my eyes automatically searched for Tulsi near the seats where I had left her.

But she wasn't there.

Okay.

Fine.

Maybe she went to buy coffee.

I walked a little further.

Nothing.

I checked the nearby charging stations.

No Tulsi.

The café?

No Tulsi.

The panic inside me slowly started rising.

"Tulsi?" I muttered stupidly under my breath like she would magically appear from the airport floor.

People rushed past me dragging suitcases while airport announcements echoed repeatedly overhead.

Now I was walking faster.

Then faster.

Then almost running.

I checked one side of the terminal.
Then the other.

Every girl with short hair and a tote bag suddenly looked like Tulsi from a distance.

None of them were her.

My backpack kept slipping from my shoulder while I aggressively pushed hair away from my face, trying to spot her somewhere in the crowd.

What if she went to the gate already?

No no no.

She would NEVER leave without me.

Right?

Right?

At this point my heartbeat was genuinely becoming concerning.

I quickly grabbed my phone—

and froze.

Airplane mode.

Oh my god.

OH MY GOD.

In my dedication to being an obedient citizen, I had basically disconnected myself from civilization.

I immediately switched airplane mode off.

And within two seconds—

PING.
PING.
PING.
PING.

My phone practically exploded in my hands.

20 MISSED CALLS — TULSI.

My stomach dropped instantly.

With shaking fingers, I opened her messages.

Tulsi :
WHERE ARE YOU???

Tulsi :
THEY STARTED BOARDING

Tulsi :
HITANSHI PICK UP THE PHONE

Tulsi :
I TOLD THE STAFF MY FRIEND IS COMING

Tulsi :
PLEASE TELL ME YOU'RE ALMOST HERE

Tulsi :
HITANSHI THEY'RE CLOSING THE GATE

And then the last message.

Tulsi :
I'm inside the flight.
They didn't let me wait anymore.

For a second...

everything around me went silent.

The announcements.
The footsteps.
The crowd.

All I knew was this:

I had missed my flight.

And my best friend was already inside the airplane without me.

"...Oh, I'm actually going to die."