Chapter 1: Drifting After Idlis

Rohan wiped the last bit of coconut chutney from his plate before anyone else finished. Breakfast wrapped up quickly that morning since nobody felt like cooking much beyond the basics. He led the way into the living room, where sunlight already filtered through the half-open curtains. Priya followed right behind, kicking off her slippers near the door. Aryan trailed with a yawn that showed he barely woke up on time. Sneha and Meera brought up the rear, still picking at their teeth while chatting about nothing specific. The living room felt stuffier than usual, even with the fan whirring overhead. They all found spots quickly—Rohan claimed the corner of the big sofa, Priya sprawled across the middle cushions, Aryan dropped onto a floor pillow, Sneha leaned against the armrest, and Meera curled up on the rug with her knees tucked in. Nobody spoke for a minute. Bodies settled into the familiar dips of the furniture, the kind that formed after years of the same routines.

Aryan reached for the remote first, figuring TV might fill the quiet better than staring at walls. He clicked through channels without much interest—some news debate about traffic in the city, a soap opera where everyone yelled over each other, then cartoons that looked too childish for anyone there. Priya watched him flip for a few seconds before grabbing a pillow from behind her back. She tossed it straight at Sneha, who ducked just enough to let it bounce off the sofa arm. "Why even bother with that junk?" Priya asked. Sneha picked up the pillow anyway, hugging it while glancing at the screen. Priya stretched her legs out, nearly kicking Aryan in the process. "This day's going nowhere already. No school, no neighbors dropping by since the road washed out last monsoon, and Mom and Dad won't call till evening maybe." She let her head fall back against the cushion. Aryan kept cycling channels, landing on a cricket rerun that nobody really followed. Sneha tossed the pillow back lightly, aiming for Priya's lap this time. The empty stretch ahead loomed in everyone's thoughts—hours with nothing planned, the house sealed off from the outside world after their parents left for that long work trip months back. Priya wondered why weekends always dragged hardest when nobody pushed a schedule.

Meera shifted on the rug, feeling the boredom settle heavier than the pillow fight. She remembered the drawer under the TV stand held more interesting stuff than channels that repeated every day. While Aryan muted the cricket highlights, she crawled over and tugged it open. Dust puffed out a little, but inside sat stacks of old photos in faded envelopes. Meera pulled one bunch free, flipping through pictures that yellowed at the edges. She passed the first handful to Priya, who sat up enough to grab them. "Look at this one," Meera said, pointing to a shot of the whole family around the backyard grill. Priya squinted at it, then handed the stack to Sneha. Rohan leaned forward from his spot, taking a few photos when they reached him. The images showed weekend barbecues from years ago—Dad flipping paneer skewers over charcoal, Mom mixing raita in a big steel bowl nearby. Aryan paused the channel surfing to peer over Sneha's shoulder at one where they all wore those silly paper hats from a party supply store. Smoke rose in the background, and everyone grinned with sauce on their chins.

Sneha held up a photo where she stood next to Rohan, both holding plates piled high with grilled corn and chicken tikka. "Dad always burned the first batch because he forgot to oil the grate," she said. Priya nodded, recalling how the smoky smell hung around the yard for hours afterward. They passed more pictures around, each one sparking bits of talk. Meera found one with Aryan mid-jump, trying to catch a badminton shuttlecock during those same barbecues. "You looked so scrawny back then," Aryan told him, though he grabbed the photo to study his own face. Rohan chuckled quietly, thinking about how Dad explained the grill controls every time like they forgot on purpose. The barbecues happened every other weekend when work eased up—neighbors sometimes joined, bringing extra masala or colas, turning the yard into a noisy spot till dark. Priya passed a picture of Meera asleep on a blanket afterward, her face smeared with ketchup. "She always crashed first," Priya said. Sneha agreed, adding that Mom used to hum old film songs while cleaning up. Nobody mentioned how those days stopped after the parents took that overseas assignment, leaving the five of them to handle everything solo. The photos kept circulating, pulling up details like the time rain forced the grill under the veranda roof or when Aryan dropped a whole tray of kebabs into the grass.

Rohan took the stack when it looped back to him, sorting through a few more before stacking them neatly. Memories like that made the current quiet feel emptier somehow. He set the photos aside on the coffee table, then pushed himself to his feet, stretching his arms overhead. Dust motes danced in the light from the window as he looked around at the group still lounging. "Enough of this," he said. Priya glanced up, tossing the pillow aside again. Aryan muted the TV completely now. Rohan paced a step or two, considering options that beat flipping channels or digging up old pictures. "We should play Truth or Dare. That'll kill some time at least." Sneha sat up straighter on the sofa arm, intrigued despite the lazy mood. Meera tilted her head from the rug, wondering what kind of questions might come up first. Priya smirked a little, already thinking about payback for the pillow toss earlier. Aryan nodded slowly, remote forgotten in his hand. The idea hung there, simple enough to start but open to wherever it led next. Rohan waited for reactions, ready to grab that empty juice bottle from the table if anyone agreed.

Nobody argued much against the idea. Priya shrugged first, sliding off the sofa onto the carpet while brushing crumbs from her kurti. Sneha followed, scooting down from the armrest to join her. Aryan tossed the remote onto a cushion, figuring why not since channels offered nothing better. Meera uncurled from the rug, shifting sideways to make space. Rohan grabbed the empty juice bottle from the table, its sticky label peeling at the edges from yesterday's mango drink. They arranged themselves into a loose circle right there on the worn carpet, knees bumping as bodies adjusted. Rohan's leg pressed against Priya's when she leaned in, Aryan sat cross-legged facing Meera, and Sneha tucked her feet under herself next to Rohan. The circle tightened naturally with five people, warmth from skin contact spreading where shins touched calves. Meera felt the carpet threads itch her bare ankles a bit, though nobody complained. Rohan held the bottle steady in the center, twisting it between his palms before setting it down flat. He gave it a firm spin, watching the glass rotate with a faint scraping sound against the fibers. The bottle slowed after a few turns, wobbling before pointing straight at Aryan.

Aryan stared at it, eyebrows raised while the others leaned forward. Rohan grinned slightly, already thinking of a question that fit the mood without going too far yet. "Truth or dare?" Rohan asked. Aryan scratched his chin, considering dodge options before settling on truth since dares might involve something messier. "Truth," he said. Rohan paused, glancing around to gauge reactions, then went for it. "What's your most embarrassing bathroom habit?" Priya snorted right away, covering her mouth while Sneha's eyes widened. Meera tilted her head, curious about what might come out. Aryan shifted his weight, knees knocking Meera's lightly as he thought back. He remembered that one time last summer when a storm hit during dinner cleanup, rain pounding the roof so hard nobody heard the toilet flush properly. "Fine," Aryan said. "I peed in the backyard once. Middle of the night, too lazy to go inside, and the fence blocks the neighbors anyway." Rohan burst out laughing first, slapping his knee while Priya rocked back, holding her stomach. Sneha covered her face, giggling through her fingers, and Meera smiled quietly, picturing Aryan sneaking out there in the dark. Aryan shrugged it off, though his cheeks warmed under the attention. The admission hung light in the air, breaking the earlier boredom with shared absurdity. Nobody pushed for details like whether mosquitoes bit him afterward, but Priya wondered if he did it more than once when nobody watched.

Aryan reached for the bottle now, eager to shift focus. He spun it harder than Rohan had, sending it whirling fast enough that dust lifted slightly from the carpet. It circled twice before slowing, neck swinging past Meera and stopping on Priya. She sat up straighter, brushing hair from her eyes while eyeing Aryan warily. "Truth or dare?" Aryan asked, payback clear in his tone. Priya weighed it quick—truths got personal fast, but dares stayed physical at least. "Dare," she chose, figuring she could handle whatever silly thing he picked. Aryan thought for a second, remembering how she tossed that pillow earlier, then decided on something goofy. "Bark like a dog for thirty seconds, hopping on one foot the whole time." Sneha clapped once, excited, while Rohan counted silently to see if Priya backed out. Meera watched Priya's face, noting the quick frown before resolve set in. Priya stood up awkwardly in the tight circle, knees brushing everyone as she balanced on her right foot. She let out a sharp "woof," hopping forward a step while wobbling toward the sofa. "Woof woof," she barked louder, arms flailing for balance as her left foot dangled. The group counted together—"One, two..."—laughter building with each hop. Priya circled back after ten seconds, sweat beading on her forehead from the effort, barking deeper now like some stray mongrel. Aryan timed it on his phone, yelling "Fifteen" midway. She hopped past Rohan, nearly kicking his shin, then spun in place for the last bursts—"Arf arf woof!"—before collapsing back down at twenty-nine seconds. Panting, Priya shoved Aryan's shoulder lightly. "Happy now?" Rohan wiped tears from laughing so hard, and Sneha mimicked a tiny bark, setting everyone off again. Meera clapped slowly, impressed Priya stuck it out without falling. The energy picked up, bodies closer in the circle from all the movement, knees pressing firmer now.

Priya caught her breath quick, grabbing the bottle before Aryan could complain. She spun it with extra force, fueled by the dare payback, watching it blur then steady on Sneha. Sneha blinked at the neck pointing her way, fingers twisting in her lap while the others quieted down. Priya leaned in, eyes narrowing playfully since Sneha dodged the pillow toss earlier. "Truth or dare?" Priya asked. Sneha glanced around the circle, noting how Rohan's knee still touched hers from the shuffle. Dares risked something like Priya's hop, so truth seemed safer for now. "Truth," Sneha said. Priya didn't hesitate, pulling from school gossip she'd overheard months back. "Name the boy you kissed behind the school shed." Rohan raised an eyebrow, not knowing that detail, while Aryan sat forward, remembering vague rumors about Sneha skipping classes. Meera wondered if it tied to that time Sneha came home with lip balm smeared wrong. Sneha's face heated up, though she kept her gaze on the bottle rather than anyone specific. The shed sat at the edge of the playground, hidden by overgrown bushes where older kids sneaked smokes or talks during recess. She recalled the sticky heat that afternoon, waiting after math when Vikram from class ten waved her over. "It was Vikram Patel," Sneha admitted finally. Priya nodded like she knew already, pressing for more. "Just a quick peck behind the shed last term. He tasted like paan masala, and we ran when the bell rang." Laughter rippled again, lighter this time with the confession out. Rohan pictured the scene, bushes rustling while teachers patrolled nearby. Aryan teased gently about Vikram's bad haircut, and Meera asked quietly what made her pick that spot. Sneha shrugged, knees shifting against Priya's now, the circle feeling warmer from all the spills. Priya seemed satisfied, though she filed the name away for later jabs. The bottle waited untouched, ready for Sneha's turn while everyone processed the new bit of history floating among them.

Sneha let the laughter die down before touching the bottle. She twisted it between her fingers, feeling the cool glass warm from her palm while eyes stayed on her. The circle held steady, knees linked in a chain of casual presses that made the carpet feel smaller now. Sneha gave it a quick spin, watching the neck whip past Rohan and Aryan before halting on Meera. Meera blinked, hair falling forward as she sat back on her heels. "Truth or dare?" Sneha asked, remembering how Meera always stayed quiet during these kinds of games back when cousins visited. Meera pushed her dupatta aside, figuring dares built the fun faster than truths that dragged on. "Dare," she said. Sneha thought quick, eyeing the light scarf draped over Meera's shoulders since breakfast. "Take off your dupatta and shake out your hair like you're in one of those movie songs." Priya leaned in closer, anticipating the show, while Rohan wondered if Meera would ham it up or play shy. Aryan nudged Sneha's knee accidentally, urging her on. Meera stood without fuss, loosening the dupatta pinned at her shoulder. Fabric slid free, pooling on the carpet beside her feet. She ran fingers through her thick hair, gathering it at the roots before tossing her head back hard. Strands flew out in a dark wave, brushing Priya's arm and landing across Sneha's lap. Meera shook again, hips swaying a bit as hair whipped side to side, catching the fan breeze. The group whistled low, Rohan clapping once while Priya reached up to tug a loose strand. "That's enough Bollywood for one day," Meera said, dropping back down with hair tangled over her shoulders. Sneha grinned, satisfied since Meera rarely let loose like that. The dupatta stayed off, forgotten for now amid the rising energy. Priya eyed Meera's bare neck, thinking how it looked cooler without the extra layer in the stuffy room.

Meera smoothed her hair roughly before grabbing the bottle. She spun it slower than the others, almost drawing out the suspense while knees shifted around her. The glass turned lazy circles, easing past Priya and stopping dead on Rohan. He sat there shirtless in thought already—no, still in his t-shirt, but ready either way. "Truth or dare?" Meera asked, voice steady after her own turn. Rohan rubbed his arms, feeling the cotton stick slightly from the room's humidity. Truths bored him now, especially after Aryan's backyard story. "Dare," he chose. Meera glanced at his chest, hidden under the faded graphic tee from last Diwali, then decided on something simple to match. "Strip off your t-shirt and flex your arms for us." Sneha stifled a laugh, picturing Rohan back from cricket practice showing off the same way. Aryan nodded approval, knees bumping Rohan's as he leaned forward. Priya watched closely, curious about muscles Rohan hid under loose clothes usually. Rohan stood up smooth, pulling the t-shirt over his head in one motion. Fabric caught his hair briefly before dropping to the carpet next to Meera's dupatta. He faced the circle, raising both arms to flex—biceps tightening under skin tanned from yard chores, shoulders rolling forward. The group inspected without shame; Priya poked his forearm lightly, feeling the firmness give a little. "Not bad for hauling water buckets," Aryan said. Rohan held the pose ten seconds, veins standing out before he relaxed and sat back down. Chest bare now, he felt air cooler on his skin where sweat gathered earlier. Meera studied the light hair trailing down his stomach, wondering why guys always compared arms like that. Sneha's knee pressed firmer against his side, the circle adapting to bare skin contact. Rohan shrugged it off, grabbing the bottle while warmth spread from the touches.

Rohan spun next, harder this time so momentum carried it past Sneha toward Aryan. It settled quick, neck accusing Aryan again. "Truth or dare?" Rohan asked, payback for the earlier laugh. Aryan scratched his thigh over his shorts, heat building under scrutiny. He picked dare to avoid more habits spilling out. "Dare." Rohan eyed the loose basketball shorts Aryan wore daily, then nodded at the boxers peeking underneath. "Take off your shorts. Keep the boxers on." Priya's eyebrows shot up, though she stayed quiet. Meera watched Aryan's face flush while Sneha bit her lip, knee still linked to Rohan's bare leg. Aryan stood hesitant, fingers hooking the waistband before sliding shorts down calves. He stepped out, kicking them aside onto the growing pile of clothes. Boxers clung snug, outlining legs toned from football kicks in the yard. He dropped back fast, knees touching Meera's and Priya's now with less fabric between. "Your turn's done," Rohan said. But Priya jumped in before Aryan could spin, pointing at Sneha across the circle. "Wait, my dare for her—touch Rohan's bare chest lightly." Sneha froze, though the rule bent since no spin landed on her. Rohan sat still, chest rising steady while everyone watched. Sneha reached out slow, palm hovering before fingertips grazed his skin just below the collarbone. Warmth met her touch, faint heartbeat under the surface as she traced a light circle. Rohan held breath, feeling the tickle spread. Priya counted to five before Sneha pulled back, hand lingering in air a second. Aryan chuckled nervous, adjusting his position where knees pressed hotter now. The touch broke something open—nobody questioned the extra dare, energy shifting toward more contact.

Turns blurred after that, bottle spins mixing with quick dares nobody contested. Priya went next officially, landing on Meera who shed her salwar top down to a thin camisole, shoulders exposed as she twisted arms playfully for inspection. Aryan spun to Sneha, daring her to run fingers along Priya's thigh while Priya sat giggling. Sneha's nails scraped light over fabric, inching up knee to mid-leg before Priya slapped her hand away teasing. Rohan targeted Meera again, making her press palms flat on Aryan's bare knees for ten seconds—skin to skin sticking slightly from building sweat. Meera felt Aryan's muscles tense under her hands, pulse quick through thin barriers. Sneha dared Priya to trace Rohan's arm from wrist to shoulder, nails dragging slow while Rohan watched her face concentrate. Priya's fingers explored the flex again, dipping to his side briefly. Aryan got Priya next, stripping her kurti halfway so bra straps showed, then flexing his own calves for her to squeeze. Clothes piled higher—shorts, dupatta, t-shirt, top—leaving everyone in underlayers: boys in boxers, girls in camisoles and petticoats or shorts beneath. Touches exchanged freely now, dares calling for palm slides down arms, finger walks across collarbones, light squeezes on thighs where knees met. Rohan felt Priya's hand linger on his chest once more during a chain dare, warmth pooling low. Sneha traced Meera's bare back when a spin allowed, spine arching under the graze. Aryan poked Sneha's calf, then Meera's arm, testing firmness while laughter mixed with quiet breaths. Meera wondered why skin felt electric under fingertips, each touch revealing textures they ignored before—goosebumps on Aryan, softness at Priya's waist. Nobody pushed boundaries hard yet, but the circle shrank tighter, legs tangled, hands brushing freely between turns. Boredom vanished completely, replaced by this web of sensation tying them closer.

They slowed eventually, bottle untouched after a final round where Rohan dared Sneha to hug Aryan shirtless for twenty seconds. Bodies pressed chest to chest, her camisole thin against his skin while arms wrapped awkward. Heat built undeniable, breaths syncing before they separated flushed. Priya wiped sweat from her neck, glancing around at the half-dressed group sprawled on the carpet. "We should do this every day," she said. Rohan nodded first, chest still tingling from touches. "Yeah, Truth or Dare as our thing now. Keeps the empty days from dragging." Aryan agreed, boxers riding up from all the shifting. Sneha pulled knees in, feeling exposed yet tied in. Meera smiled faint, hair still loose and wild. The ritual settled among them, intimate in ways barbecues or photos never touched—daily bonding that promised more explorations ahead. Carpet marks pressed into skin as they lounged, bottle ready nearby for tomorrow.