12-05-2025, 06:44 AM
Episode 41: The Day of the Falls
The morning of the college trip broke with a golden haze, the air crisp and alive with the promise of a day outside the classroom. St. Mark’s buzzed with energy as students gathered near the college gates, backpacks slung over shoulders, voices overlapping in a chaotic hum of excitement.
Arjun woke earlier than necessary, his body thrumming with anticipation. He stood in front of his mirror, adjusting his casual t-shirt and jeans, his hands unsteady. Today wasn’t just a trip. It was a chance to see Meera Ma’am outside the rigid lines of college—freer, softer, closer. His mind had been painting scenes for weeks: her by the waterfall, hair loose, a light saree catching the breeze. He shook his head, trying to focus, but the images clung to him.
At college, he boarded the bus with his friends, Rahul and a few others, claiming the last row seats for the best view—and the most privacy. The back of the bus was loud, filled with laughter and mock arguments over snacks, but Arjun was quiet, his eyes fixed on the bus door. His heart beat unevenly, waiting for her.Students filed in, teachers called out names, but Meera didn’t appear. The minutes stretched, and a knot tightened in Arjun’s chest. What if she wasn’t coming? The thought was unbearable. He leaned forward, craning his neck toward the front, ignoring Rahul’s nudge about his obvious distraction.
Just as the driver started the engine, she arrived.Meera stepped onto the bus, and Arjun’s breath caught.She wasn’t in a saree.For the first time, she wore a churidar—a soft cream-colored one, the kurta sleeveless, hugging her shoulders and skimming her arms with delicate precision. The fabric flowed over her curves, the churidar pants tapering at her ankles, elegant and understated. A sheer dupatta, pale gold, dbangd loosely over her chest, fluttering slightly as she moved. Her hair was tied in a high ponytail, a few strands framing her face, and her eyes carried a quiet, relaxed glow.Arjun stared, frozen.
The churidar changed everything. It was less formal than her sarees, more revealing in its simplicity. The sleeveless kurta bared her arms, the smooth lines of her shoulders catching the morning light. The dupatta, though, covered just enough—dbangd across her chest and underarms, hiding what he suddenly, desperately wanted to see. His mind flickered to the classroom moment when she’d raised her arms to tie her hair, the soft hollow under her arm briefly visible. Now, the dupatta was a barrier, teasing him with what lay beneath.She looked… untouchable yet real. Like she belonged to the day, to the sunlight, to the open air.
Meera scanned the bus, nodding to a few students, then slid into a middle-row seat next to Priya, who was already grinning and gesturing animatedly. The two leaned close, their laughter soft but carrying through the bus’s hum. Arjun’s eyes stayed locked on her, taking in every detail—the way the kurta clung to her waist, the gentle sway of her dupatta as she adjusted it, the curve of her neck as she turned to Priya.“Dude, you’re gonna burn a hole through her,” Rahul whispered, smirking.Arjun snapped his gaze to his lap, cheeks hot. “Shut up,” he muttered, but his eyes drifted back almost immediately.
The bus rumbled to life, weaving through the city toward Ranga Falls. Arjun barely registered the chatter around him. His world was the middle row, where Meera sat, her profile visible as she talked with Priya or looked out the window. Every so often, she’d lift a hand to adjust her dupatta, and his heart would jump, hoping for a glimpse of her underarm—smooth, soft, a detail that had become sacred in his obsession. But the dupatta stayed in place, a quiet torment that only heightened his longing.
At the Café Stop:
An hour into the drive, the bus pulled into a roadside café for breakfast. Students spilled out, stretching and joking, the air filled with the smell of coffee and fried snacks. Arjun lingered near the bus, pretending to check his phone, but his eyes followed Meera as she stepped off with Priya.
The morning sun lit her up, the cream churidar glowing against her skin. She laughed at something Priya said, her head tilting back, her dupatta slipping slightly but not enough. Arjun’s pulse quickened. He wanted her to raise her arms—maybe to stretch, maybe to tie her hair again—anything to reveal that hidden curve under her arm. But she didn’t. She stood casually, one hand on her hip, the dupatta still dbangd securely.
He followed his friends into the café, choosing a table near the window where he could see her outside. Meera and Priya sat at a small table, sharing a plate of samosas, their conversation light and easy. At one point, Meera reached for a napkin, her arm lifting slightly, and Arjun leaned forward, breath held. The dupatta shifted—but only a fraction, not enough to reveal anything. He exhaled, frustration and excitement twisting together in his chest.Priya caught Meera’s wrist mid-gesture, saying something that made them both laugh. The touch was casual, familiar, but to Arjun, it was electric. His mind flashed to the staff room, to Priya’s playful pinches at Meera’s waist, and his throat tightened. He wanted to be that close. To touch her like it was nothing. To belong in her orbit.
The group was called back to the bus too soon. Arjun walked slowly, stealing one last glance as Meera stood, brushing crumbs from her kurta. The dupatta fluttered, teasing the edge of her arm, but still—nothing. His anticipation only grew sharper.
Arrival at Ranga Falls:
The bus wound through green hills, the air growing cooler as they neared Ranga Falls. When they finally arrived, the roar of the waterfall greeted them, mist rising from where the water met the rocks below. The area was lush, trees framing the falls, sunlight filtering through in soft streaks.Students poured out, shouting and snapping photos. Teachers called for order, but the energy was uncontainable.
Arjun stepped off the bus, his eyes searching immediately for Meera.She was already out, standing near Priya, her dupatta catching the breeze. The churidar looked even more striking here, the cream fabric glowing against the green backdrop, her arms bare and graceful as she pointed toward the path to the falls. Priya said something, and Meera laughed, her ponytail swaying. The dupatta slipped slightly down her shoulder, and Arjun’s heart leapt—but she adjusted it quickly, unaware of the storm she was stirring in him.
The Moment He Saw:
The group moved toward the falls, spreading out along the rocky path. Meera and Priya walked ahead, stopping near a wooden railing to take in the view. The mist from the falls hung in the air, cooling the skin, and Arjun lingered a few steps behind, pretending to tie his shoelace but watching her every move.
Meera paused, her dupatta slipping again as the breeze picked up. She didn’t notice at first, her attention on the cascading water. Then, as if sensing the damp air, she lifted both arms to retie her ponytail, her fingers working quickly to tighten the band.The dupatta fell away from her chest, sliding down her arm.And there it was.Her armpit—smooth, soft, a delicate hollow framed by the curve of her raised arm. The skin was flawless, warm-toned, glistening faintly with the mist’s touch. It was intimate, unguarded, a detail so small yet so overwhelming that Arjun’s world narrowed to that single point. The sleeveless kurta left it bare, the gentle dip under her arm catching the sunlight in a way that made his breath stop. It was hot—not in a loud, exaggerated way, but in the quiet, searing intensity of something private made visible, something he’d dreamed of but never expected to see so clearly.
His chest tightened, his pulse a loud drum in his ears. He couldn’t look away. The moment was fleeting—she finished tying her hair, the dupatta slipping back into place as her arms lowered—but it was enough. Enough to burn into him, to fuel weeks of restless nights. The sight was everything he’d imagined and more: soft, real, achingly beautiful.Meera turned slightly, laughing at something Priya said, oblivious to the storm she’d just unleashed. Arjun stood, rooted to the spot, his shoelace forgotten, his body hot despite the cool mist. His friends called him from further down the path, but their voices were distant, drowned out by the roar of the falls and the louder roar inside him.He followed the group slowly, his eyes still flicking to Meera, to the way her churidar moved with her, to the arms that had just revealed something sacred. The dupatta was back in place now, covering what he’d seen, but it didn’t matter. He had seen it. He would carry it with him.The day had just begun, and already, Arjun felt like he was drowning in her, waiting for another moment that might never come—but one he’d chase forever.
To be continued…
The morning of the college trip broke with a golden haze, the air crisp and alive with the promise of a day outside the classroom. St. Mark’s buzzed with energy as students gathered near the college gates, backpacks slung over shoulders, voices overlapping in a chaotic hum of excitement.
Arjun woke earlier than necessary, his body thrumming with anticipation. He stood in front of his mirror, adjusting his casual t-shirt and jeans, his hands unsteady. Today wasn’t just a trip. It was a chance to see Meera Ma’am outside the rigid lines of college—freer, softer, closer. His mind had been painting scenes for weeks: her by the waterfall, hair loose, a light saree catching the breeze. He shook his head, trying to focus, but the images clung to him.
At college, he boarded the bus with his friends, Rahul and a few others, claiming the last row seats for the best view—and the most privacy. The back of the bus was loud, filled with laughter and mock arguments over snacks, but Arjun was quiet, his eyes fixed on the bus door. His heart beat unevenly, waiting for her.Students filed in, teachers called out names, but Meera didn’t appear. The minutes stretched, and a knot tightened in Arjun’s chest. What if she wasn’t coming? The thought was unbearable. He leaned forward, craning his neck toward the front, ignoring Rahul’s nudge about his obvious distraction.
Just as the driver started the engine, she arrived.Meera stepped onto the bus, and Arjun’s breath caught.She wasn’t in a saree.For the first time, she wore a churidar—a soft cream-colored one, the kurta sleeveless, hugging her shoulders and skimming her arms with delicate precision. The fabric flowed over her curves, the churidar pants tapering at her ankles, elegant and understated. A sheer dupatta, pale gold, dbangd loosely over her chest, fluttering slightly as she moved. Her hair was tied in a high ponytail, a few strands framing her face, and her eyes carried a quiet, relaxed glow.Arjun stared, frozen.
The churidar changed everything. It was less formal than her sarees, more revealing in its simplicity. The sleeveless kurta bared her arms, the smooth lines of her shoulders catching the morning light. The dupatta, though, covered just enough—dbangd across her chest and underarms, hiding what he suddenly, desperately wanted to see. His mind flickered to the classroom moment when she’d raised her arms to tie her hair, the soft hollow under her arm briefly visible. Now, the dupatta was a barrier, teasing him with what lay beneath.She looked… untouchable yet real. Like she belonged to the day, to the sunlight, to the open air.
Meera scanned the bus, nodding to a few students, then slid into a middle-row seat next to Priya, who was already grinning and gesturing animatedly. The two leaned close, their laughter soft but carrying through the bus’s hum. Arjun’s eyes stayed locked on her, taking in every detail—the way the kurta clung to her waist, the gentle sway of her dupatta as she adjusted it, the curve of her neck as she turned to Priya.“Dude, you’re gonna burn a hole through her,” Rahul whispered, smirking.Arjun snapped his gaze to his lap, cheeks hot. “Shut up,” he muttered, but his eyes drifted back almost immediately.
The bus rumbled to life, weaving through the city toward Ranga Falls. Arjun barely registered the chatter around him. His world was the middle row, where Meera sat, her profile visible as she talked with Priya or looked out the window. Every so often, she’d lift a hand to adjust her dupatta, and his heart would jump, hoping for a glimpse of her underarm—smooth, soft, a detail that had become sacred in his obsession. But the dupatta stayed in place, a quiet torment that only heightened his longing.
At the Café Stop:
An hour into the drive, the bus pulled into a roadside café for breakfast. Students spilled out, stretching and joking, the air filled with the smell of coffee and fried snacks. Arjun lingered near the bus, pretending to check his phone, but his eyes followed Meera as she stepped off with Priya.
The morning sun lit her up, the cream churidar glowing against her skin. She laughed at something Priya said, her head tilting back, her dupatta slipping slightly but not enough. Arjun’s pulse quickened. He wanted her to raise her arms—maybe to stretch, maybe to tie her hair again—anything to reveal that hidden curve under her arm. But she didn’t. She stood casually, one hand on her hip, the dupatta still dbangd securely.
He followed his friends into the café, choosing a table near the window where he could see her outside. Meera and Priya sat at a small table, sharing a plate of samosas, their conversation light and easy. At one point, Meera reached for a napkin, her arm lifting slightly, and Arjun leaned forward, breath held. The dupatta shifted—but only a fraction, not enough to reveal anything. He exhaled, frustration and excitement twisting together in his chest.Priya caught Meera’s wrist mid-gesture, saying something that made them both laugh. The touch was casual, familiar, but to Arjun, it was electric. His mind flashed to the staff room, to Priya’s playful pinches at Meera’s waist, and his throat tightened. He wanted to be that close. To touch her like it was nothing. To belong in her orbit.
The group was called back to the bus too soon. Arjun walked slowly, stealing one last glance as Meera stood, brushing crumbs from her kurta. The dupatta fluttered, teasing the edge of her arm, but still—nothing. His anticipation only grew sharper.
Arrival at Ranga Falls:
The bus wound through green hills, the air growing cooler as they neared Ranga Falls. When they finally arrived, the roar of the waterfall greeted them, mist rising from where the water met the rocks below. The area was lush, trees framing the falls, sunlight filtering through in soft streaks.Students poured out, shouting and snapping photos. Teachers called for order, but the energy was uncontainable.
Arjun stepped off the bus, his eyes searching immediately for Meera.She was already out, standing near Priya, her dupatta catching the breeze. The churidar looked even more striking here, the cream fabric glowing against the green backdrop, her arms bare and graceful as she pointed toward the path to the falls. Priya said something, and Meera laughed, her ponytail swaying. The dupatta slipped slightly down her shoulder, and Arjun’s heart leapt—but she adjusted it quickly, unaware of the storm she was stirring in him.
The Moment He Saw:
The group moved toward the falls, spreading out along the rocky path. Meera and Priya walked ahead, stopping near a wooden railing to take in the view. The mist from the falls hung in the air, cooling the skin, and Arjun lingered a few steps behind, pretending to tie his shoelace but watching her every move.
Meera paused, her dupatta slipping again as the breeze picked up. She didn’t notice at first, her attention on the cascading water. Then, as if sensing the damp air, she lifted both arms to retie her ponytail, her fingers working quickly to tighten the band.The dupatta fell away from her chest, sliding down her arm.And there it was.Her armpit—smooth, soft, a delicate hollow framed by the curve of her raised arm. The skin was flawless, warm-toned, glistening faintly with the mist’s touch. It was intimate, unguarded, a detail so small yet so overwhelming that Arjun’s world narrowed to that single point. The sleeveless kurta left it bare, the gentle dip under her arm catching the sunlight in a way that made his breath stop. It was hot—not in a loud, exaggerated way, but in the quiet, searing intensity of something private made visible, something he’d dreamed of but never expected to see so clearly.
His chest tightened, his pulse a loud drum in his ears. He couldn’t look away. The moment was fleeting—she finished tying her hair, the dupatta slipping back into place as her arms lowered—but it was enough. Enough to burn into him, to fuel weeks of restless nights. The sight was everything he’d imagined and more: soft, real, achingly beautiful.Meera turned slightly, laughing at something Priya said, oblivious to the storm she’d just unleashed. Arjun stood, rooted to the spot, his shoelace forgotten, his body hot despite the cool mist. His friends called him from further down the path, but their voices were distant, drowned out by the roar of the falls and the louder roar inside him.He followed the group slowly, his eyes still flicking to Meera, to the way her churidar moved with her, to the arms that had just revealed something sacred. The dupatta was back in place now, covering what he’d seen, but it didn’t matter. He had seen it. He would carry it with him.The day had just begun, and already, Arjun felt like he was drowning in her, waiting for another moment that might never come—but one he’d chase forever.
To be continued…
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