I wasn't going to the party out of choice. My parents had insisted. It was the first birthday of a colleague's grandson, and because the child's grandfather happened to be one of my dad's seniors, our presence was non-negotiable.
So, with my phone fully charged and dressed in casual clothes, I resigned myself to the ordeal.
We arrived, carrying the kind of expensive gifts that parents believe make an impression. I did the polite minimum—looked at the baby, said "cute," like a decent human—and quickly retreated to an empty table, bracing myself for an eternity of boredom.
Half an hour passed, my eyes glued to my phone. Then the main doors opened, and another family stepped in. My dad's colleague, apparently. With him was a girl I hadn't seen before. For a second, I forgot the screen in my hands. She was beautiful in a way that unsettled me. Then, as if to save myself from that thought, I returned to scrolling.
Fifteen minutes later came an announcement: a game was about to begin. My mom, in that insistent, maternal way, urged me to participate with my brother. The event was a mummy race, to be run in pairs. By coincidence, the pair beside us was the girl and her friend. Her friend, Varnika, was someone I'd known since childhood.
The girl glanced at me once, and instinctively, I began talking to my brother as though the conversation were urgent.
The race started. I finished my part, handed off to my brother, and across from me, she was waiting for her partner too. Then, without warning, she looked at me and asked, "What's your age?"
The question caught me off guard. Still, I managed: "Fifteen."
"And you?" I asked before I could stop myself.
"Seventeen," she replied.
We both fell into silence. The awkward kind.
When the race ended, my brother and I had won. I slipped back to my table, opened my phone, and tried to disappear again. But soon, the girl and Varnika joined me.
"This is Shashank," Varnika said, pointing to me. "The one I told you about—N.S.O. topper in the city for six years."
"Nice to meet you," the girl said, smiling. "I'm Manisha."
"Shashank," I said.
The three of us fell into conversation. Manisha was surprised to learn I was younger for my class. She admitted I was the first science-stream guy she'd ever befriended. I shared a few school stories, and to my quiet satisfaction, she laughed at nearly all of them.
An hour slipped by, unnoticed. When Varnika left, it was just the two of us. We discovered that neither of us had wanted to be there—both dragged by our parents. That simple fact made the dull party bearable, even fun. Before we knew it, two more hours had passed.
Eventually, she had to leave. As she stood, I asked, "So, are you on Facebook?"
"No," she said, "but I'm on WhatsApp. Give me your number."
I gave it to her. Then, tilting her head, she asked, "Sorry, what's your name again?"
"Shashank. Or Shane, whichever works."
"I like Shane," she said with a playful grin. "Bye!!!" She waved and disappeared toward her car.
When we returned home, I changed and settled into my usual late-night routine of studying. The house grew silent, my family fast asleep, when—close to midnight—my phone buzzed.
It was her.
---
MANISHA:
Hey.
Sup?
It's Manisha.
Remember? From the party.
SHANE:
Yes, obviously.
MANISHA:
So what were you doing?
SHANE:
Wait, let me save your number first.
Okay. I was just revising.
MANISHA:
Ohh!!! Am I disturbing?
SHANE:
No, not at all.
MANISHA:
Okay.
SHANE:
So… you're nocturnal?
MANISHA:
Haha. Seems so.
SHANE:
Me too!!!
MANISHA:
LOL.
SHANE:
By the way, how's your hair now???
MANISHA:
Still sticky, dude! That Varnika will pay someday for this.
SHANE:
Haha.
MANISHA:
Why are you laughing? I'm serious.
SHANE:
Okay, okay. Get well soon—your hair deserves peace. 😋😂😂😂
MANISHA:
Very funny. 😑
SHANE:
So… do you read Harry Potter???
MANISHA:
Yes! Do you???
SHANE:
Yep. Potterhead since 2002.
MANISHA:
Same! Except my story starts in 2000.
---
And just like that, the night unraveled. We swapped interests, shared theories, and laughed at inside jokes that hadn't even existed hours before. The clock ticked unnoticed until it was past three.
At 3:30, she finally admitted she was sleepy. We said goodnight reluctantly, as if we could have gone on talking forever.
I sat back, phone still in my hand, and thought about the strange magic of the day. A dull party had brought me face-to-face with someone I hadn't known yesterday, yet somehow already felt close to. Manisha—a stranger, a friend, a spark of something new.
Weird. But true.
And with that thought, I finally let sleep take me.