Two days passed. Or perhaps they merely drifted by. Nothing remarkable happened. No confrontations. No raised voices. No dramatic arguments. Only missed moments. Rishikesh would leave for the Secretariat before Aksh came downstairs. Aksh would return from the temple just as Rishikesh disappeared into another meeting.
Lunches became working lunches. Evenings dissolved into wedding reviews. By the time one brother was free, the other had quietly retreated. To everyone else, it looked like unfortunate timing. The wedding was only days away, the workload had doubled, and with Viraj ordered to stay away from the office and focus entirely on the preparations, most of the administrative burden had fallen on Rishikesh.
For the Flame to Burn, It Needs a Spark These words—these poems, musings, echoes of soul—they are pieces of me, offered to the void. If they’ve ever stirred something in you, made silence feel understood or chaos feel poetic… Then let your support be the wind beneath this fire. A small gesture. A mighty impact. Because art survives on love—and the occasional coffee. ☕✨
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