Riya&Arnab

We met over second-hand books on College Street — Riya haggling for a worn Feluda omnibus, Arnab quietly paying the extra ten rupees before she could. A cup of coffee at the Indian Coffee House turned into an afternoon that neither of us wanted to end.

For three autumns we found each other again during Durga Pujo — pandal-hopping from Bagbazar to Ekdalia, sharing egg rolls at midnight, always circling back to the dhak's beat.

One Bijoya evening, as the immersion drums faded over the Ganga, Arnab asked Riya to write their alpona together for every year to come. She said haan before the last conch sounded.