Mumbai — the city that never sleeps!
Here, everyone is running some kind of race — someone racing to reach the office on time, someone chasing their dreams, and someone just trying not to lose themselves in the crowd.
That morning in Mumbai, it was five o'clock.
Near a small green park by Sea Face, a cool, gentle breeze was blowing. Soft shades of orange were spread across the sky, and only a handful of joggers were on the roads.
There, a girl was running continuously — Suman Kapoor.
About twenty-one years old, tall and athletic, yet carrying an innocence on her face that could make anyone smile at first glance. Her hair was tied in a high ponytail, swaying with her speed. Beads of sweat rolled from her temples down to her neck, and with every breath, confidence reflected clearly on her face.
She slowed down near a bench, bent forward, placed her hands on her knees, and started catching her breath. Removing her earphones, she closed her eyes and began breathing slowly.
Suman (smiling softly):
"Okay, Suman. Five kilometers done. Just one more round."
Just then, a tiny voice came from behind.
"Didi… water."
Suman turned around. A cute ten-year-old boy was sitting in a wheelchair, holding a water bottle out to her with both hands. She smiled.
He was the most precious part of her life — her younger brother, Aman. After a car accident a year ago, he couldn't walk anymore, but the brightness on his face was no less than the sun itself.
Suman went to him, knelt down, took the bottle, and said,
"Thank you, Ammu."
Aman (raising his eyebrows):
"Didi! How many times have I told you not to call me Ammu? My name is Aman. And I'm not a kid anymore. I'm ten years old!"
Suman laughed, pulled his cheeks, and said,
"Ohhh, sir is ten years old now! That means you're very grown up, huh? Come on then, sir — let's go home. Mom must be waiting for you."
She stood up, held the wheelchair, and started walking toward the park gate. The first rays of sunlight fell on their faces.
Aman (teasing):
"Didi, you're completely drenched in sweat today. If someone sees you, they'll say, 'Mumbai's new waterfall model has arrived!'"
Suman (laughing):
"You've started talking too much! Who's teaching you these dialogues now?"
Aman:
"I watch them on TV. And everyone at school talks like this."
Suman spun him lightly and said,
"Ahh, so you've become my little Shah Rukh Khan now! Come on, let's go home."
They were walking along the roadside, laughing and chatting, when suddenly someone shouted from behind,
"Thief! Catch him!"
Suman turned around — and before she could understand anything, a boy running at full speed crashed straight into her.
Both of them fell to the ground. Grass beneath Suman, and someone's hand behind her head.
Their eyes met.
For a few seconds, both remained frozen.
The boy — wearing a deep blue T-shirt, messy hair, and eyes carrying a strange sparkle — as if mischief and innocence existed together within him.
Suman's breath caught. She tried to get up immediately, but the boy softly said,
"Don't move. If you do, you might hurt your head."
Suman's eyes widened.
What?
At that moment, the voice came again,
"There he is! Don't run, stop!"
The boy stood up instantly, glanced at Suman, and said,
"Sorry, miss. No time."
And then he ran away.
Suman sat there, stunned.
Aman (shouting from his wheelchair):
"Didi! Are you okay? Did the thief escape?"
Suman jumped to her feet, fixed her hair, and said,
"Wait… thief?"
She bent toward Aman.
"You stay right here, Ammu. I'll be right back!"
She took off her jacket, held it in her hand, and ran. Behind her, Aman shouted,
"Didi! He doesn't look like a thief — he looks like a hero!"
Suman heard him, but she was already in a mood to shake all of Mumbai.
Suman (running):
"Stop right there! Can't you hear me, you thief! Otherwise I'll sue you!"
The boy turned back, his eyes widening.
Oh God! Now she's chasing me too!
Suman threw her slipper — it hit him straight on the back!
Boy (jumping):
"Ah! Oufff! This girl is a full-on Sunny Deol!"
He ran even faster. Nearby, another boy was waiting with a bike.
Boy (shouting while running):
"Start the bike! Fast!"
Bike guy:
"Got yourself into trouble again, didn't you? This time your photo will be in the police station!"
"Shut up and run!"
He smacked his head lightly, and both sped away on the bike.
Suman stopped, panting. She glanced at the bike number and muttered,
"MH two XX four two seven. I won't forget this."
A few moments later, Aman arrived there in his electric wheelchair.
Aman (innocently):
"Didi, did he run away?"
Suman:
"He did. But for how long?"
She went to a man nearby who was panting and said,
"Uncle, let's go to the police station."
Man (nervously):
"Oh no, daughter, let it go. It was just a small thing."
Suman (angrily):
"What do you mean, let it go?! Let's go right now!"
Man:
"No… no… it's fine."
And he walked away quickly.
Watching him leave, Suman muttered,
"Mumbai. Wow. What a strange welcome."
Aman smiled lightly.
"Didi, I don't think he was a thief."
Suman:
"What do you mean?"
Aman:
"When you fell, he held your head so you wouldn't get hurt. I saw it."
Suman went quiet. For a moment, she was lost in thought, then said,
"Come on. Let's not waste our brains on this."
A while later…
On the third floor of the colony was Suman and Aman's small but beautiful flat. As soon as they entered, loud music echoed inside.
"Piya tu ab to aaja…"
Suman and Aman covered their ears and shouted together,
"Dadi!"
From the kitchen emerged a graceful woman — Seema Kapoor, Suman's mother. She held a breakfast plate, simplicity on her face, love in her eyes, but exhaustion clearly visible.
Seema (smiling):
"You're back? Finished running around?"
Suman noticed her mother's eyes were slightly red. She went to her and hugged her from behind.
"Were you crying?"
Seema tapped her head lightly.
"Nonsense! Why would I cry? Go freshen up. And yes — silence your grandmother! Only you can do that."
Suman nodded, thinking silently,
Mom looks strong on the outside, but she's broken inside.
After her father's passing, everything had changed. The journey from Shimla to Mumbai wasn't easy. The house had to be sold, memories left behind. Seema took a school job and started life again.
Suman walked toward her grandmother's room.
She opened the door — and grabbed her head at the sight.
Grandmother Sharmili Kapoor and neighbor Urmila Aunty were sitting on the carpet, singing loudly,
"Yeh raatein, yeh mausam…"
Suman (holding her head):
"Oh God! Who will explain these two!"
She went and turned off the music system. Both grandmothers turned around.
Sharmili Dadi (loudly):
"Arre Suman! Why did you stop it? The high note was about to come!"
Suman (annoyed):
"Dadi, if you hit that high note, the downstairs neighbors will call the police! They'll think a gas pipe exploded again!"
Urmila Aunty laughed.
"Oh leave it, dear. A little music is necessary in life."
Suman (smiling):
"Music is fine, Urmila Aunty, but your off-key duet makes even the building's dog cry!"
Sharmili Dadi:
"See, Urmila, she scolded us again. But look at my granddaughter's talent — even her anger has acting in it. Full heroine material!"
Suman:
"Dadi, please stop now and come have breakfast."
Sharmili:
"You go prepare for college first. And that milk boy who came yesterday — he was very nice. Even smiled well."
Suman (eyes wide):
"Dadi! Do you research even the milkman?"
Suman took a deep breath, hands on her forehead, as if saying, God, give me patience.
Then calmly she said,
"Explaining things to you is like preparing for the UPSC exam. Anyway, if your singing is done, please come out and have breakfast."
She walked out, controlled but exhausted, and went straight to her room. She looked at herself in the mirror briefly, then walked into the washroom.
In the hall…
Urmila Aunty sat down and said,
"Girls these days have such sharp tongues!"
Sharmili Dadi nodded silently and adjusted her plate.
Just then, Aman rolled in on his wheelchair, smiling.
"Good morning, Dadi!"
Urmila Aunty's face softened instantly.
"Good morning, my lion!"
But Sharmili Dadi didn't even look at him.
Aman's smile slowly faded. Seema noticed and quickly tried to lighten the mood.
"Aman beta, here's your favorite chocolate milkshake."
Aman's eyes lit up.
"Thank you, Mom! You're the best!"
Seema smiled, stroking his head.
"Drink it quickly, it'll get cold."
She glanced at Sharmili secretly, but Sharmili deliberately looked away.
A slight pain rose in Seema's heart. Aman was adopted — and maybe that was why Sharmili never fully accepted him. Seema quietly served breakfast.
Toast. Omelette. A little butter. The same everyday breakfast.
Sharmili wrinkled her nose.
"Again bread and omelette? Seema, have you forgotten how to cook anything new? I'm tired of this!"
Seema smiled and said softly,
"Yes, Mom. I'll make something different tomorrow."
But inside, her words choked.
Meanwhile…
The washroom door opened, and Suman came out. She wore a light pink suit, matching dupatta, and round glasses resting neatly on her nose, giving her a graceful look.
Standing in front of the mirror, she looked at herself. The morning irritation still lingered in her eyes, but her lips held a soft smile.
As if telling herself,
Come on, Suman. It's a new day. You have to keep a good mood today.
But then she remembered the collision at the park — that boy. His strange attitude, his smile, his words.
She frowned and muttered,
"What a ridiculous boy he was!"
Just then, Seema's voice came,
"Suman beta, come quickly! Breakfast is getting cold!"
Suman looked at herself once more, adjusted her glasses, tied her hair back, and said,
"Coming, Mom!"
She walked out quickly — and with the sound of her footsteps, a new day began.
To be continued..