As the dusk dawned on the city and the punishing sun receded behind the wall of rooftops, leaving just enough light to make things visible to the naked eye, a sudden coolness descended on the city and Johar, like always, went and stood on his balcony. Every evening of this summer, Johar has spent more or less standing on the same spot, watching the blue sky turn darker, into deeper shades till becoming a complete black, and also, Mira, granddaughter of his newly moved, across the gali, old couple.
Mira, a dark, shy little creature of 16, has in turn, done the same since the night after her family moved into the new house. Every evening as the flushed white sky turned from a royal blue to pitch black in colour, she, standing on the balcony has been watching the million little stars twinkling innocently in the sky and the boy across the gali.
Every evening from that first evening, when Johar had seen her, from his balcony standing alone on hers, across the road, they had been coming to the same spot regularly, waving, smiling, gesturing at each other. But never did a word leave their mouth, never did a sound got across the gali.
Johar would wave his hand, beaming, and Mira would lift a limp hand, a pink blush evident on her young face, and within that gesture, Johar would guess that something was wrong and jumping his eyebrows twice slowly, lift his head too and she would slowly turn her dark eyes along with her round face to the other side. Again it would be enough for Johar to know that she was feeling lonely in the new city and he would quickly bring a broad smile on his face and gesture to come to her, at which, arching her eyebrows Mira would shake her head in negative and Johar would look deep into her eyes, and nod once knowingly, closing his eyes for a good second. And by then the sky would turn completely dark and hearing her name being shouted from inside, Mira would rush in, waving, again, the same limp hand at Johar, who would look at her with dreamy eyes.
Every evening the same thing passed, the two across the door neighbors would come to their balconies and do their silent romance, which had every component of a good romance, except sound. But then, one evening, as the bright summer was turning into a golden autumn and the trees had started shedding their dry brown leaves, Johar found Mira`s balcony vacant. Mira wasnt anywhere to be seen. Not the next day, not even the other or the one after that, and when the day after that too, Johar was greeted by empty sleeping walls, he could not control himself anymore. Running down the steps, he unsteadily crossed the road and with calm, controlled, measured steps climbed the steps of Mira`s house, on the second floor of the building. He knocked at the door thrice, hesitatingly and it was opened by an old woman with, velvety wrinkled skin, and lead straight into a hall, where on an old red sofa, sat an old bearded man, next to her sat Mira, with a terrified look in her eyes. Johar slowly walked up to the old man and using his whole body but not making a sound gestured, which the old man rightly understood as the boy`s desire to talk to the girl. 'Haan beta' he said, noticing the palpable discomfort on his face. Mira in turn, not making a sound, nor hearing any, understood, from the look on Johar`s face and his fidgety hand movements, that he felt uneasy and how much the same he was making her feel.
Like every rejection, that precedes a heart break, this rejection and its subsequent heart break too had all the components of a perfect sad situation, expect sound. As the various colours of the setting sun danced in the sky, Mira gestured Johar to leave.
