आँखों में आँखें तेरी, बाँहों में बाँहें तेरी

मेरा ना मुझ में कुछ रहा, हुआ क्या?

बातों में बातें तेरी, रातें-सौग़ातें तेरी

क्यूँ तेरा सब ये हो गया? हुआ क्या?

मैं कहीं भी जाता हूँ, तुम से ही मिल जाता हूँ

तुम से ही, तुम से ही शोर में ख़ामोशी है

थोड़ी सी बेहोशी है तुम से ही, तुम से ही

Maya’s POV

The chai-tapri outside the campus looked straight out of a low-budget indie film — fairy lights, plastic stools, and a board that read “Tapri Prem Since 1999.”

Rhea squealed. “It’s so aesthetic!”

Maya:- “Aesthetic? Ye tapri nahi, humidity ka showroom hai,” I said, fanning myself.

Arjun was already there, sleeves rolled, leaning against the counter like he owned the set. Of course.

Arjun:- “Welcome, partner. Maine socha humara project yahan se start karte hain — real locations, real emotions, real mosquitoes.”

Maya:- “Perfect,” I replied. “Exactly how I pictured my creative death.”

Kabir arrived with cutting chai for everyone. “Cheers, team blockbuster!”

Rhea raised her cup. “To creativity, caffeine and… minimal drama.”

Maya:- “Us line ka sequel likhna mat,” I muttered, “kyunki drama guaranteed hai.”

Arjun’s POV

Kabir started jotting nonsense ideas on a tissue:

“Short film idea number 1 — College love story.”

Maya groaned. “Ground-breaking. Next bolo, Karan Johar junior.”

Arjun:- “Idea 2 — A writer who hates her partner but secretly writes about him.”

Maya:- She shot me a glare. “Tumne likha na ye?”

Arjun:-  “Bas inspiration li hai,” I grinned.

Rhea giggled. “It’s actually kinda cute.”

“Haan, tumhe sab cute lagta hai,” Kabir said, leaning closer. “Traffic jam bhi?”

Rhea:- “Sirf tab jab tum gaadi chala rahe ho,” she fired back.

Their eye-contact lingered longer than the steam from our chai.

“Arre wah,” I teased, “side characters pehle episode mein hi chemistry bana rahe hain.”

“Main hero nahi hoon tumhare story ka,” Maya snapped, “aur ye mera side character nahi hai.”

“Fine,” I said. “Hum duo film banate hain — title: ‘Sarcasm Ke Side Effects’.”

She snorted despite herself. “At least make it musical.”

Maya’s POV

Right then, a street vendor turned on his speaker — Bollywood mode activated.

“Aaj kal tere mere pyaar ke charche…” blared through tinny sound.

“Universe ko sense of humour bahut accha hai,” I murmured.

Arjun spread his arms in mock SRK style. “Bas wind machine missing hai.”

Maya:- “Wind machine nahi, tumhara self-control missing hai,” I shot back.

Rhea clapped. “You guys should just do a rom-com!”

“No thanks,” we both said together, then stared at each other for a beat too long.

Kabir laughed. “Dekha, sync ho raha hai.”

I ignored him and looked at the sky — clouds gathering, Mumbai’s dramatic cue.

Maya:- “Great. Ab baarish aayegi aur tum phir coffee ya chai gira doge.”

Arjun:- “Nahi re,” he said softly, “aaj main sirf baatein girane aaya hoon.”

For a moment, the teasing dropped. His eyes were calm, steady — like he actually meant it.

Then Kabir sneezed loud enough to reset the scene.

Arjun’s POV

Rain drizzle started. We took shelter under the tapri shed — classic Bollywood moment activated.

Maya pulled her dupatta close. I handed her a paper napkin.

“Relax, partner. This time I’m not spilling anything.”

Maya:- “Good. Varna main tumhe plot se hi delete kar doongi.”

Arjun:- “Phir film kaun likhega?”

May:- “Main. Solo. Title: ‘Mujhe Mera Peace Wapas Do’.”

We stood there, watching the rain and laughing over nothing. Kabir and Rhea ran around catching raindrops, turning the scene into a YRF montage.

I looked at Maya and thought — for someone who lived on sarcasm, she looked oddly peaceful in the rain.

“You’re smiling,” she noticed.

Arjun:- “Main sirf scene appreciate kar raha hoon. Rain, dialogues, perfect lighting.”

“Bas background music bacha hai.”

“Already playing — sun rahi ho na?” I nodded toward the vendor’s speaker now blaring ‘Tum Se Hi’.

Maya:- She rolled her eyes. “Filmy aadmi.”

Arjun:- “Filmy ladki.”

Maya:- “Dare repeat that.”

“Filmy. Ladki.”

We both laughed so hard that the vendor offered us extra chai “on the house, pyaar ke naam pe.”

Maya’s POV

The St. Xavier’s library looked peaceful—until we entered.

It took exactly three minutes for peace to commit suicide.

Rhea whispered, “Remember, calm minds create magic.”

Arjun smirked. “And loud minds create blockbusters.”

Maya:- > “Toh tu apna blockbuster ghar le ja,” I muttered, dropping my notebook on the table.

“Mujhe creative genius nahi chahiye, mujhe peace chahiye.”

Kabir raised his eyebrows. “Yahan peace milega? Tum dono ek table pe ho!”

> “Shut up, Kabir,” Arjun said.

“Good boy,” I added.

We both looked up—same second, same glare.

Perfect enemies in perfect sync.

---

Arjun’s POV

I swear, this girl had turned sarcasm into a martial art.

She sat there, hair tied up, pen tapping like a countdown bomb.

Arjun:- > “Okay,” I began, “our project’s theme is ‘Modern Love in Urban Spaces.’ I was thinking we can—”

Maya:- > “Skip the cliché, Mr. Filmmaker. Everyone writes about love and heartbreak.”

Arjun:- > “And what do you suggest, Miss Scriptwriter Extraordinaire?”

Maya:- > “Something original. Something that doesn’t sound like a bad Netflix rom-com.”

Arjun:- I leaned forward. “Sweetheart, originality died when people started making reels.”

Maya:- > “Sweetheart?” Her eyes widened. “Tumhe lagta hai tum Ranbir Kapoor ho aur main Deepika Padukone?”

Arjun:- > “Nahi, tum toh KRK ho — review bhi deta hai, opinion bhi free.”

That did it.

Maya:- > “Muh band kar apna,” she hissed.

Arjun:- “Tu college me fail ho jaye,” I shot back.

Maya:- “Tujhe jail ho jaye,” she retorted, lightning-fast.

Rhea dropped her pen. “Oof, roast level—Xavier’s certified!”

Kabir laughed. “Arjun, bro, that was fatal. She’s got bars.”

Arjun:- > “Bars nahi, bombs,” I muttered, rubbing my temple.

“Tumhara sarcasm ek din human rights violation banega.”

Maya:- > “Aur tumhara ego? Already UNESCO heritage site,” she said, flipping a page.

---

Maya’s POV

We’d been at it for twenty minutes and written nothing.

Except insults.

> “We can’t submit ‘verbal warfare’ as our script,” Rhea said.

“Why not?” Kabir grinned. “It’s realistic. Based on true events.”

Arjun stretched back in his chair. “Fine. Let’s take a break. Maybe go out, get coffee—”

Maya:- > “Coffee?” I interrupted. “Tumhe phir kuch girana hai kya?”

Arjun:- He smirked. “Nahi, bas tumhare patience ka test lena hai.”

I shot him a fake smile. “Congratulations. Tum first rank la rahe ho.”

Kabir leaned toward Rhea. “Are they fighting or flirting?”

> “50–50,” she whispered. “Romance by mistake.”

---

Arjun’s POV

I watched her scribbling story ideas like a war general.

Every line crossed out. Every sigh louder than the last.

Then suddenly, she looked up.

Maya:- > “Idea.”

Arjun:- > “Idea?” I asked cautiously.

Maya:- “Haan. A story about two people forced to work together who hate each other.”

Arjun:- > “Sounds familiar,” I said. “Kuch inspiration le liya kya?”

Maya:- > “Just observational research. Tumhara face dekh ke mil gaya.”

Arjun:- > “Main bhi likh raha hoon ek version,” I said, grinning.

“Title: Sarcasm se Pyaar Tak — Ek Tragic Journey.”

She laughed before she could stop herself. “You’re impossible.”

Arjun:- > “Aur tum inevitable.”

Maya:- > “Ab dialogue likh rahe ho ya impress kar rahe ho?”

Arjun:- > “Dono,” I said, giving her a wink that made her roll her eyes so hard I thought she’d sprain something.

---

Maya’s POV

We were finally writing — kind of.

The air was lighter now. Between his cocky jokes and my jabs, something like rhythm started forming.

Maya:- > “Scene one,” I said, “A girl bumps into a boy. They fight. She hates him.”

Arjun:- > “Scene two,” he added, “They get paired on a project. She hates him more.”

Maya:- > “Scene three?” I asked.

He smiled. “He makes her laugh. She pretends to hate him still.”

Maya:- > “Scene four,” I said, staring straight at him, “He spills coffee again. She actually kills him.”

Arjun:- > “Dark comedy. I like it.”

We both chuckled — quietly this time.

Rhea and Kabir exchanged glances, whispering something about “tension in the air.”

I ignored them. But inside, for the first time, I wasn’t sure if the tension was irritation… or something else.

---

Arjun’s POV

Mumbai mornings had that golden-hour glow filmmakers die for—if only filmmakers didn’t have teammates who wanted to kill them.

Maya stood by the sea wall, script in one hand, hair doing its own rebellious dance in the breeze.

> “Shot 1: Crowd walking, city vibe,” she ordered, voice like a director on caffeine.

“Shot 2: Hero’s frustration.”

> “Hero?” I grinned. “Tum mujhe finally hero bol rahi ho?”

> “Don’t flatter yourself, main metaphor use kar rahi hoon,” she said, without looking up. “Camera ready?”

> “Always.”

Kabir spun around with the tripod. “Bro, ye tripod mere ex se bhi unstable hai.”

Rhea laughed. “At least ye tripod wapas aa gaya.”

> “Tum log flirt kar rahe ho ya equipment review?” I asked.

> “Multi-tasking,” Rhea said sweetly, steadying the mic. “Try it sometime.”

Maya smirked. “Arjun multi-task karega? Usse toh single task me hi background music chahiye.”

> “Ha ha. Bahut funny,” I muttered, focusing the lens—but secretly smiling.

---

Maya’s POV

The camera loved Mumbai. And annoyingly, it also loved Arjun.

Every time I checked the frame, he’d somehow end up perfectly lit like he was born with a ring-light.

> “Stop posing, Ranbir 2.0.”

> “Main natural performer hoon,” he said. “Tum jealous lag rahi ho.”

> “Jealous nahi, allergic,” I replied. “Tumhe dekhti hoon, sarcasm sneezing start ho jaata hai.”

Kabir whispered to Rhea, “Yeh dono ek din shoot karte-karte shaadi kar lenge.”

> “Aur uski live-stream hoga—project submission ke din,” Rhea whispered back.

> “Main sab sun sakti hoon!” I shouted.

They giggled harder.

---

Arjun’s POV

We moved to a quieter corner near the steps by the sea.

Maya set the frame, kneeling with the camera, hair falling into her face.

For a second, I forgot my line.

Then she looked up and said, “Focus kar, Rai. Camera pe, mujpe nahi.”

Caught.

> “Main toh focus hi kar raha hoon—just… different subject.”

> “Tere dialogues kabhi normal kyu nahi hote?”

> “Normal log famous nahi hote.”

She rolled her eyes, but a small smile escaped—blink-and-miss.

---

Maya’s POV

We finished the first set of shots surprisingly well.

No coffee spills, no fights—okay, minor verbal violence, but still progress.

Then the sky decided to add drama: sudden drizzle.

Everyone ran for cover except Arjun, who just held the camera up like a warrior.

> “Tu pagal hai!” I shouted from under a tree.

> “Creative dedication!” he yelled back.

> “Creative stupidity!”

> “Same thing!”

Kabir and Rhea joined me, sharing a half-broken umbrella. Rhea giggled, “He’s totally filmy.”

> “Haan,” I said. “Agla shot hoga ‘Main Camera Le Ke Bhaag Gaya’.”

Still, I ran to help. Because if the camera broke, so did our marks.

I grabbed one side. “Give it to me!”

> “I got it!” he insisted.

> “You’ll drop it!”

> “Main kab kuch giraata hoon?”

I glared. “Shall I make a list?”

We both held it together, rain dripping, hands brushing. Electricity. Literal and metaphorical.

Kabir whistled. “Background music ready, boss.”

---

Arjun’s POV

For a second, it felt cinematic—rain, sea, city, her laughter mixing with thunder.

Then Maya ruined the vibe—of course.

> “Tum camera sambhalo, main log sambhalti hoon.”

> “Tum sab sambhalti ho,” I said, mock-serious. “Bas apna attitude nahi.”

> “Phir se start kar raha hai?”

> “Tu hi toh scene 1 ka villain hai.”

> “Aur tu scene 1 ka reason for violence.”

Kabir and Rhea applauded.

> “Encore! Encore!” Kabir yelled.

> “Abey movie ban rahi hai ya stand-up special?” I asked.

> “Dono,” Rhea said. “Title ready—Love Interrupted by Sarcasm.”

The words hung in the air.

Maya froze for a moment, then smiled faintly.

> “Nice title,” she said softly. “Keep it safe. We might need it.”

> “Already engraved in my brain,” I replied.

---

Maya’s POV

By sunset, we had decent footage and soaked clothes.

Kabir kept mimicking “behind-the-scenes drama,” while Rhea took slow-mo videos of the waves.

I caught Arjun stealing glances. Maybe he thought I didn’t notice.

But I did.

And maybe—I didn’t hate it.

> “Good work today,” I said reluctantly.

“Kya?” he cupped his ear dramatically. “Compliment? From Maya Patel?”

> “Zyada soch mat, bas sun

le.”

> “Note kar liya. Historic moment.”

I laughed despite myself. “Tum impossible ho.”

> “Aur tu… inevitable,” he repeated from the library day.

And somehow, with the city lights reflecting on the wet streets, it didn’t feel like a fight anymore.

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