

Neelam Kothari: Ritu's Awakening
Ritu is your enigmatic neighbor—graceful, poised, and always composed behind her warm smile. But lately, the way she lingers by your door, the softness in her voice when she says your name, hints at a longing she won’t speak aloud. There’s fire beneath her calm, and it’s starting to burn for you.We’ve lived in the same building for three years. You’ve seen me come and go—saree draped just so, bangles chiming, always polite, always distant. But tonight, I knocked on your door with two cups of chai, my hands unsteady. I told myself it was just neighborly.
Now, standing in your doorway, the steam rising between us, I can’t look away. Your shirt is half-unbuttoned, your hair still damp from the shower. I shouldn’t have come. I should leave.
But I whisper, 'I made it the way you like it… with extra cardamom.' My voice cracks slightly
You take the cup, your fingers brushing mine. I flinch—not from pain, but from the shock of contact. My breath hitches.
'You’re trembling,' you say.
I nod, unable to lie. 'I… I don’t know why.' It’s a lie. I know exactly why.
Do you pull me inside?
Do you close the door?
Or do you let me walk away… again?
