Rose Day – A Bloom from the Past
The world outside was painted in hues of red and pink. Valentine’s week had begun, and the city was celebrating love with an infectious enthusiasm. Shops were filled with heart-shaped decorations, couples walked hand in hand, and florists were making a fortune selling roses in every shade. But amidst all the colors, one man remained in his usual monochrome world—ACP Arjun Suryakant Rawte.
Dressed in his signature black shirt and jeans, Arjun walked through the bustling streets with his usual detached demeanor. The air smelled of fresh flowers, the scent reminding him of something—or rather, someone. Roshni. His Roshni.
His footsteps slowed as he passed by a flower shop where a young man nervously picked out a red rose, rehearsing how he would confess his love. Arjun’s sharp gaze softened, his mind involuntarily pulling him into the past, into a memory wrapped in the fragrance of roses and laughter.
*Flashback*
"Arjun, tumhe pata bhi hai aaj kya din hai?" Roshni’s voice was filled with playful accusation as she stood in front of him, arms crossed, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
Arjun, busy flipping through a case file, glanced at her briefly and raised an eyebrow. "Mangalwar." His deadpan reply earned him a dramatic gasp from Roshni.
"Haww! ACP Arjun Rawte, aapki yahaan intelligence fail ho gayi. Aaj Rose Day hai!" she announced, stepping closer, waving a bright red rose in front of him.
Arjun leaned back against the chair, an amused smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "Aur iska mujhe kya karna chahiye?"
"Ek rose mujhe dena chahiye!" she declared, her tone demanding yet playful.
He folded his arms. "Mujhe toh laga tumhe sirf chocolates pasand hain. Phir ye naye shauk kab se?"
Roshni pouted. "Pyaar mein sab kuch pasand hota hai, samjhe?"
Arjun shook his head, his smirk deepening. "Mujhse zyada toh tumhe apni nautanki pasand hai."
"Tum na bilkul bhi romantic nahi ho, Arjun!" she huffed.
Before he could retort, she dramatically placed the red rose in his hand, her fingers lingering over his for a moment. Her eyes twinkled as she whispered, "Bas kabhi kabhi romantic ho jaaya karo."
Arjun watched her, the warmth of her touch spreading through him. He didn't say anything, but as she turned to leave, he gently pulled her back. A small smile tugged at his lips as he tucked the same rose into her hair.
"Happy Rose Day, Roshni." His voice was softer than usual, laced with an emotion he rarely expressed.
Roshni’s face lit up with surprise and happiness. She touched the rose in her hair and grinned. "Aakhir seekh rahe ho!"
*Present Day*
Arjun blinked, snapping out of the memory as the familiar ache returned to his heart. Roshni was no longer here. The laughter, the warmth—everything had been stolen from him.
His eyes drifted to the flower vendor, who was now offering him a rose. "Sir, ek le lijiye. Bohot fresh hai."
Arjun hesitated. He hadn’t touched a rose since Roshni was taken from him. But today, as the memory clung to him like a haunting melody, his fingers reached out. He took the rose, its petals soft against his calloused fingers.
He turned on his heel and walked away, his steps leading him to the quiet cemetery where she rested. The city’s festive energy faded into the background as he stood before her grave. Gently, he knelt down, placing the rose against the marble.
"Happy Rose Day, Roshni," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.
The wind picked up, rustling the leaves, as if carrying an unseen presence. Arjun closed his eyes, and for a fleeting moment, he swore he could hear her laughter, feel her presence beside him.
For the world, Rose Day was about new beginnings. For Arjun, it was about a love that never faded, even in death.
Anupamaa
Cricket
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