Ayesha's Village Surprise | Part-2
A couple of hours later, I blinked awake to the sound of faint cowbells and birds outside. The house was quieter now, warm and still, with Mami probably napping in the other room. My phone buzzed softly beside me—finally, bars. Network was back.
I stretched, checked a few notifications, and then quietly stepped outside. The village looked so peaceful in the afternoon sun. Dusty pathways glowing gold, the trees swaying gently, and kids playing somewhere in the distance.
As I walked toward the gate, I noticed someone sitting under the neem tree outside the neighboring house. Ravi.
He looked up and spotted me, lifting a hand lazily in a wave.
“Network aa gaya kya, madam Mumbai?” he teased.
“Finally,” I grinned. “I feel alive again.”
I walked toward him, wiping a bit of sleep from my eyes.
“You still sleepy?” he asked.
“Not anymore. But I have to wait for someone.”
“Who?”
“Apparently… my cousin Ritu?” I said, still sounding unsure. “Mami told me about her today. I didn’t even know she existed.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You’ve never met her?”
“Nope. Not even a photo. But Mami says she’ll be here soon, and we’re supposed to go explore the village together.”
Ravi stood up, brushing his hands on his jeans. “Well, till she shows up, want to walk around a bit nearby? The fields are nice this time of day. We’ll stay close.”
I hesitated for a second, but I could already feel that restless itch in my feet. “Let me tell Mom.”
I jogged back inside, called out a soft “Mom! I’m going for a little walk with Ravi, we’ll be nearby,” and heard her half-sleepy “Theek hai, beta,” from inside.
Back at the gate, Ravi smiled, “Ready?”
I nodded. “Let’s go. Lead the way, local expert.”
River Paths and Swings of Payback
The dusty path slowly turned greener as we walked further from the houses. Ravi pointed out little things along the way—“That’s where we used to play cricket,” “That mango tree is at least a hundred years old,” “Those bricks? Leftover from a half-built well project.” He had a story for everything.
I was mostly just listening, soaking it in. The stillness of the village, the breeze, and the smell of fresh grass—it was nothing like Mumbai.
“There’s a river just ahead,” he said suddenly. “Want to see it?”
“Yeah,” I nodded, excited. “Definitely.”
As we walked further, the trees got denser and the air cooler. The narrow path curved gently with wildflowers on both sides, and I could hear the soft trickle of water nearby.
And then—he turned to me with that cheeky grin of his.
“So,” he said, hands in his pockets, pretending to be casual. “How about tasting your own medicine?”
I squinted. “What?”
He smirked. “I saw it. Your mami lifting you like a feather earlier today.”
I felt my cheeks go warm. “When did you see that?”
“Right when I was coming to say goodbye before heading home. I stopped at the gate and saw her just scoop you up. It was very wholesome,” he added, trying not to laugh.
“Ravi—”
“I’m just saying,” he teased, “you girls have something going on these days. Strong arms, silent confidence. Dangerous combo.”
I narrowed my eyes, both annoyed and flustered. “You’re not going to stop, are you?”
“Nope,” he said with a proud little shrug.
“That’s it,” I muttered and suddenly lunged toward him.
He yelped and tried to move back, but I was faster. I grabbed him from behind around the waist, locked my arms, and with one good lift—he was off the ground.
“AYESHA!” he shouted, laughing as I swung him once, like lifting a stubborn backpack.
“Still teasing?” I said with a grin, holding him in the air for a few seconds before gently placing him back on his feet.
He staggered a step forward, wide-eyed and half-laughing. “Okay okay okay! Noted! You are officially terrifying.”
“Good,” I said, brushing off my kurti. “Let that be a lesson.”
We both cracked up.
By then, the river came into view. A gentle bend, flowing lazily with sparkling water and dragonflies skimming the surface. We found a patch of grass under a neem tree and sat down, finally catching our breath.
The breeze was soft. A cow bell tinkled in the distance. Somewhere, a woman was singing while filling water pots.
We sat there for over an hour—talking about nothing and everything. About college, Mumbai traffic, our favorite foods, gym routines, and strange relatives. The kind of easy conversation that didn’t need effort.
And just like that, the village felt less unfamiliar.
And Then Came Ritu
We were sitting on the grass, the breeze playing with our hair, when Ravi suddenly looked up past me.
“Ritu!” he called out, waving.
I turned, squinting in the direction of the dirt path where a girl was walking toward us—light brown skin glowing under the sun, her steps calm and unhurried.
“You know her?” I asked Ravi, a little surprised.
“Of course,” he grinned. “She’s your cousin. My neighbor. Everyone here knows everyone.”
The girl—Ritu—walked up with an easy smile. She wore a faded sleeveless T-shirt and black joggers. Her hair was tied in a messy bun, and slung over her shoulder was a tiny cloth bag. The moment I saw her, one thing stood out—her arms.
Toned. Not in a flashy, bodybuilder way. Just… naturally sculpted. Like the kind of strength that comes from climbing trees, carrying water pots, chasing goats, and basically living the exact opposite of a treadmill life.
“Ritu, this is Ayesha,” Ravi introduced us. “She’s your cousin from Mumbai. She lifts people for fun.”
“Ravi!” I half-scolded, nudging him.
Ritu laughed and stepped forward. “So you’re Ayesha? Mami’s been talking about you for two days straight. And lifting people? That’s new.”
“I swear, he’s exaggerating,” I said, shaking her hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“Same. You’re taller than I expected.”
I smiled. “You too, actually.”
She sat down with us in the grass like she’d always been part of the moment. No awkwardness, no hesitation. It was oddly comforting.
We chatted for a bit—casual stuff. She told us how she’d just come back from her friend’s place, and Ravi filled her in on our little adventure, including certain lifting incidents which I kept interrupting with “That’s not how it happened.”
I finally turned to Ritu. “You know, Mami was saying you’ll take me around to see the village.”
She nodded, casually plucking a blade of grass. “I will. But not now. This spot’s too peaceful to leave right now.”
Ravi stretched out on his back. “Agreed. The river has a way of making you forget the rest of the world.”
So we stayed. The three of us—cousins, neighbors, new friends—sitting by the river with no rush to go anywhere.
Rooftop Bonds
By the time we walked back from the river, it was already early evening—around six or seven. The sun had mellowed into a golden blur behind the trees, and the air felt softer, almost sleepy.
Ravi waved us goodbye outside his house, and Ritu and I walked back together, laughing at some silly thing he’d said. It was strange how quickly I’d warmed up to her. There was something so real about her—not trying to impress, just… herself.
Back at home, the house was buzzing again. Mami and Mom were chatting in the open hall, Nani was peeling garlic with a speed I could never match, and the air smelled of fried chillies and fresh coriander. Classic village evening.
Ritu and I headed to freshen up. After a long bath with a steel bucket and cool well water, I felt like a whole new person. Free from sweat, dust, and city stress.
Everyone was still gathered in the open hall, so we joined in for a bit, laughing at stories, sipping chai, and enjoying the chill vibe. Then Ritu leaned in and whispered, “Want to see my room?”
I nodded and followed her inside. It was simple—wooden shelves lined with books and old photos, soft cotton bedsheets, and a tiny window that looked out into the fields.
But before I could even say anything, she asked, “Have you seen our rooftop?”
“No,” I said, surprised.
“Come,” she smiled. “You’ll love it.”
We tiptoed up the old wooden stairs and pushed open the heavy metal door. The moment I stepped out, I gasped.
The rooftop was huge—much bigger than I expected. The kind you only find in old village homes, where families used to sleep under the stars on summer nights. The sky above was glowing in twilight shades, and a soft breeze danced across the terrace.
“This is amazing,” I said, walking to the edge and looking out at the vastness of the fields and scattered homes.
We sat cross-legged on the cool cement floor, the wind messing up our hair, chatting about college, family, and the weird things we both did growing up. It felt… easy.
“So,” I said after a while, nudging her gently, “you have pretty strong arms, Miss Ritu. What’s your secret? You don’t even go to the gym.”
She laughed. “Arey, nothing like that. Just village work, I guess. Carrying water, lifting sacks of grain, chasing cows sometimes.”
I grinned. “That counts as serious workout!”
She shrugged modestly.
“You know,” I said, stretching my arms, “we should totally turn this rooftop into our own gym. There’s so much space here.”
Ritu blinked. “Gym? Here?”
“Why not? Come on, I’ll show you a few basic moves.”
I stood up, brushing off my hands and dropping into a slow push-up. “Like this. Simple push-up. Try it.”
She watched carefully, then copied me—surprisingly well.
Her form wasn’t perfect, but she could do it.
“Not bad!” I said, impressed.
She smiled, a bit shyly. “It’s harder than it looks.”
“Now try this,” I said, lifting a broken brick from the corner and showing her a few arm curls.
She copied again—and again, she could do it. No complaints, no dramatic reactions. Just quiet strength.
“Ritu,” I said, smiling, “you’re a natural.”
She beamed. “Maybe you’re just a good teacher.”
We kept going—laughing, correcting each other, making fun of our wobbly squats—and for a moment, the rooftop felt like our little world.
Two girls under an open sky, strong in different ways, and learning from each other.
A Twist in the Workout
The breeze on the rooftop had mellowed into a soft hush, as if even the sky was listening to our laughter.
After a few sets of brick lifts and push-ups, I taught Ritu how to do proper squats. Her form wasn’t bad at all.
“Yeah, I know this,” she said, straightening up after her third one. “Many people here do it in the fields while working. It's part of the routine.”
“Of course it is,” I laughed. “But I’ve got a little twist. Want to try something different?”
She looked at me with wide, curious eyes. “What kind of twist?”
I grinned. “Let me show you.”
Before she could react, I stepped in close and said, “Okay Ritu, I’m going to lift you now and show you how we really do squats in my gym.”
She blinked but nodded with an adorably confident, “Okay didi, as you say.”
Her calm acceptance caught me slightly off guard, but I liked it. She wasn’t cocky or unsure—just… trusting.
I crouched slightly, slid one arm behind her back and one under her knees, and with a gentle lift, scooped her up in a cradle carry.
She weighed less than I expected. Light but firm, like someone who moved with purpose every day.
With her safely in my arms, I began the squats—smooth, steady. One. Two. Three.
Ritu held onto my shoulder, her eyes wide with amusement. “Wow, this is actually kind of fun.”
“See? Told you,” I smiled, breathing evenly as I went down for the sixth and final squat. I gently placed her back down.
But before I could even stand straight, she looked at me and said, “Now my turn.”
I blinked. “Ritu… I’m heavier than you. Trust me.”
But she stepped closer, determined. “Didi, let me try. Just once.”
There was something about the way she said it—earnest, respectful, like she wasn’t trying to challenge me… she just wanted to do it.
Before I could fully process, she bent slightly, slid her arms into the same cradle position I used… and lifted me.
Lifted me. With ease.
My heart skipped a beat. I was off the ground, cradled like a feather in her arms.
“Who said you’re heavy, didi?” she teased, giving me a gentle little bounce for effect.
I clutched her shoulder instinctively. “Ritu! You’re actually doing it.”
She laughed. “Only two squats, I don’t know the proper form like you do. But I’m happy just holding you like this.”
There was a quiet confidence in her voice. Not boastful, not showy—just… present.
She held me like that for a few more seconds. And though at first I felt nervous—being off the ground always threw me a bit—something shifted.
She wasn’t just strong. She was secure. Her arms didn’t shake, her grip didn’t slip, and the way she looked at me was gentle but steady.
“You feel like air, didi,” she added, softly. “I think I can hold you for a long time.”
I smiled, slightly shy now. “Okay, okay, don’t get used to this.”
She laughed and slowly set me down, still holding my hand for balance as I touched the floor.
There was something special in that moment. A kind of bond forming—not just because of strength or fitness, but something deeper. Respect, trust… care.
I looked at her, and for the first time, I didn’t just see a cousin.
I saw someone I really wanted to be close to.
Under the Stars
That night, after dinner and a few rounds of laughter with the family, Ritu and I went back up to the rooftop.
The sky was painted with stars, scattered like grains of sugar across black velvet. The moon hung low, glowing softly over the village, and the air was cool enough to carry the scent of wet earth from the fields nearby.
We sat side by side, wrapped in old shawls, legs stretched out, watching the stars blink slowly.
No workouts now. No lifts. No teasing.
Just silence… and something else. Something calm and deep that didn’t need to be spoken.
Ritu looked up and whispered, “I didn’t know it would feel like this… having someone like you visit.”
I turned to her, surprised. “Like what?”
She smiled faintly. “Like home could be even warmer.”
I didn’t say anything. I just let that sentence settle into the breeze.
I looked at her—my cousin, my unexpected gym partner, the girl who held me without fear—and smiled.
Maybe it was just a village trip.
Maybe it was just summer.
Or maybe... something had quietly changed.
And as the stars blinked above us and the night wrapped itself around the rooftops of this little village, I let myself wonder:
"That one week in the village passed faster than I expected, yet left a mark on me that I never saw coming. Ritu and I became inseparable. We explored the fields, laughed on the rooftop, shared secrets under the stars—and somewhere between all of that, a strange new comfort began to grow. After that first evening when she lifted me with ease, Ritu didn’t stop. She found little reasons—sometimes no reason at all—to scoop me up again. Quietly, when no one was around. Never in public. Just when we were alone—on the roof, inside the room, behind the mango tree in the backyard—she’d suddenly surprise me, hold me tight, and cradle me like it was the most natural thing in the world."
"At first, I laughed nervously. I even reminded her I’m older, taller, heavier… but she never cared. To her, I was still Didi. And strangely, I didn’t mind. The girl who once lifted weights, friends, even her mom-dad for fun… now found peace in being lifted. And not just lifted—held. Like I could let go of being strong for a while and just float. I never thought I’d enjoy that feeling. But I did. It became our unspoken language. A little bond of love and strength between two sisters who didn’t grow up together—but in just one week, felt like they always had."
"And as we packed our bags to leave, I didn’t tell anyone what we shared. Not even Ravi. It was our secret. Something simple, innocent… but meaningful. And as the train rolled away from the village, I looked out the window and smiled. I came here thinking I’d miss my barbell. But turns out, I found something better—arms that held me like I weighed nothing, and a heart that reminded me it’s okay to let someone else carry you, too."
“Even now, when I close my eyes, I can still feel that goodbye hug… the warmth, the tightness, the way Ritu lifted me like I weighed nothing at all. For a moment, I wasn’t the gym-going strong girl… I was her baby sister. Safe. Adored. Floating in her arms, I felt like time paused. No matter how strong I am, I don’t think I’ll ever forget how good it felt to be the one held so gently, so proudly. That week gave me strength in a whole new way… a bond I’ll carry forever.”
Sometimes strength isn't just about muscles—it's about the way people hold you, lift you, and stay close when you least expect it. Ayesha went on a simple trip to the village, but she returned with something more than memories.
She returned with a bond that can't be explained… only felt.
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