Pink Feathers

March, 2026.

A sunny morning comes by, emerging from the dark blue remnants of the previous night. As the ashes of the previous darkness slowly evaporates into thin air, the glowing reddish-orange sun appears from up above the horizon. Approximately a couple of hours later, it was six am in the morning. Officially the start of the day!

In a bustling corner of Ballygunge, a yellow-green building stood out amongst the other
buildings in its very proximity. On the third floor of this very building, the buzzing sound
of the alarm cleared through the morning mist, eliciting an irritated ‘pfft’ from the person lying on the bed. Waking up from her deep slumber, a young woman, approximately twenty-six years old, approached the marble-floored kitchen, lavish in its external appearance. The nameplate outside the main door read ‘Ridhika Sen ‘.

Tying up her curly black hair in a messy bun, while adjusting the loose pantone hued night gown, the girl rummaged through the first rack in the kitchen for the tub of coffee
powder. Grabbing an old tub of Nestle, she proceeded to take out a spoonful of the scented, brown powder, mixing it with a steel spoon in a red porcelain mug, with a cupful liter of milk and sugar already added, to make some coffee, indicating the start of
the day.

Sipping the piping cup, on a leisurely Saturday, she rested on the coffee-brown couch in
the living room, positioned right in front of the center table. She had an appointment with her childhood friend, Nita Sinha, at an art café around Esplanade, around five pm in the evening. Nita and Ridhika had been companions since childhood, be it from primary
school, or even as they graduated from the same university. A translator at Penguin publication house by profession, Ridhika was available only on weekends. On the contrary, Nita was a marketing manager at a reputed real estate company, who often found it rather difficult to fish out time for outings even on weekends, having to take care of and supervise the power point presentations as well. However, she had managed to take out a few hours for her childhood best friend.

Grabbing the newspaper, her eyes immediately gazed towards the newspaper, talking about the ongoing Iran-America conflict. Her phone buzzed, bringing her back to her senses. She proceeded towards the bathroom to brush her teeth, grabbing the cellphone. Surprisingly, it turned out to be Nita. Isolated from the habit of usually waking up at late hours on lazy weekends, Nita spoke, “Can we meet at 5 pm instead of 7 pm, an urgent call came up. Bujhchish to? “

Nodding her head while brushing her teeth, Ridhika uttered, “Hmm.“ Once done with the daily routine, she went to her cupboard, attempting to pick a dress suitable for the hangout, from amidst the numerous clothes she possessed. Picking a periwinkle blue dress, with pearls stitched onto it intricately, and white laces touching the borders, she rummaged the drawer in front of the dressing table, picking pearl accessories, a Charlotte Tilbury lipstick and a blush, proceeding to get ready.

Once she was prepared to go outside, she glanced at the mirror briefly in the central hall. The beauty in the mirror was indeed unrecognizable, unlike the usual face. Proceeding towards the main gate, she rushed to catch an auto. Reaching the café, she spotted her old friend. However, her eyes wandered towards a well-known pair of eyes, something she had seen ages back in school. Lingering memories of her first love creeped in.
She stared out the window, into the seamless infinite of the sky .

~Riddhima Sen~

Writer’s Introduction : Riddhima Sen is currently pursuing a Masters degree in comparative literature at Jadavpur University . She has self published twenty three solo books and has participated in thirty three anthologies so far .