The Lost Pages
Chapter 1: The Strangered
We are all strangers until a conversation reveals our humanity.
Yazhini and Naveen sit at a corner table, their faces partially lit by the soft glow of the restaurant’s amber lighting. The large window beside them reflects the bustling street of Bangalore outside. They are quietly engaged in conversation, but what they’re saying is not immediately clear. From a distance, they could be anything — a married couple, colleagues, long-time friends, or strangers just sharing a table for convenience.
The atmosphere in the restaurant is cozy, filled with the low hum of other diners, clinking cutlery, and soft music playing in the background. Despite this, Yazhini and Naveen’s table seems to draw attention from those around them. A sense of curiosity hangs in the air.
At the next table, an old man sits alone, occasionally glancing toward them. His thoughts are private, but his expression reveals a sense of intrigue. The corner of his lips curls slightly, as if he’s creating his own story about this pair in his mind.
On the other side of the room, a group of college friends — loud, laughing, and carefree — casts glances toward Yazhini and Naveen, occasionally whispering among themselves. Their jokes are light, playful, speculating about whether the two are on a date, or perhaps strangers sharing awkward silence. One of the girls from the group chuckles and murmurs, “I bet they’re in that phase where they don’t know if they’re dating or just friends.”
The father and daughter at another table share a quieter moment, their conversation punctuated by thoughtful pauses. The father’s gaze drifts to Yazhini and Naveen as if wondering if his own daughter might one day find herself at a similar table, engaged in such ambiguous conversations.
Further along, a love marriage couple, years into their relationship, notice Yazhini and Naveen with fleeting glances. The wife smiles to herself, remembering the early days of her own marriage — days that were filled with similar exchanges of quiet words and shared laughter, just as Yazhini and Naveen seem to be sharing now.
Across from them sits a couple in the early days of an arranged marriage. Their silence is awkward, tinged with nervousness. They glance toward Yazhini and Naveen, wondering if their own marriage might one day evolve into something more comfortable, something closer to what they see before them.
Yazhini leans back in her chair, her dark hair framing her face as she smiles at something Naveen has just said. Naveen, in turn, chuckles softly. Whatever tension might have existed between them moments ago seems to ease, though the ambiguity of their connection remains.
The restaurant staff flits between tables, serving dishes, refilling glasses, and exchanging quiet words with patrons. Even the waiters occasionally glance toward Yazhini and Naveen, subtly curious, as if their presence somehow stands out more than the others.
The evening continues, and while Yazhini and Naveen’s conversation is entirely private, the others around them — each locked in their own lives, their own relationships — can’t help but speculate. What is their story? How do they fit into the mosaic of lives that surrounds them?
As the night wears on, the unanswered question remains in the minds of those who have noticed Yazhini and Naveen: Who are they really? And perhaps more importantly, what will they become?
Sometimes, the greatest mystery is not what we see, but what we assume.