WALKING WITH YOU...in the shades of love

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic

Who doesn't fall in love but at what extent can you go to get your love? Have you ever mopped the girl's entire home just to get a glimpse of her smiling face or have you lied a thousand times just to live at her home as a paying guest? If not, this stuff is for you.

• “Amna, I have spent many sleepless nights for you and I don’t want the same for my son for your daughter…so better to make them siblings.”
- Dipit Kaushik

• “But Dipit, this society will never let us be one.”
- Amna Khan

Walking with you... is a story about a young writer, Dipit who accidently fell in love with a Muslim girl, Amna in the campus of MDI, Gurgaon. It’s a witty tale of two love birds, who survived through many complex situations of Friendship, Emotions, Dreams and love, only to be with each other at every cost.

Both deeply in love together and wanted to get married, but will this cruel society ever let them be one???

Will they able to convert their inter-religion love story into an inter-religion love marriage???

Or Does their quest will give for nothing...?

A love tale from a teenager’s pen about the inter- religion love marriage in modern India climaxing on MUMBAI RIOTS. Will their love win over terror?

Assume the characters of Dipit and Amna as you and Welcome to the cocktail, Walking with you...in the shades of love.

Chapter 1 (v.1) - WALKING WITH YOU...in the shades of love

Submitted: November 27, 2013

Reads: 450

A A A | A A A

Submitted: November 27, 2013



Author - Deepak Yadav (deepakyadav6316@yahoo.com)

Publishers- Diamond Publishers India 


 Chapter1. 'DILWALON KI DILLI' ...A national bestseller.  


'Dilwalon ki Dilli' hit the bestseller list. The author's debut created a rave in readers,' said the headlines of Hindustan Times.  

"Impressive!" I murmured with a long smile looking at the author's photograph. I was seated in Air India and the flight was going to take off soon.  


"Mr. Aakash Dutta?" queried the air hostess in a slow tone. I nodded. 

"Sir, Ms. Parul Rao has requested to deliver this envelop to you from the check-in counter. She told us you forgot this during check in, It's important for you", said she handing over envelop with a smile. 

I was speechless, blank.  

"Thank you so much", said I, moreover, what I could only say with a grin. It was a greeting card. These small things make me realize, how special I'm for someone.  

I opened the card. It was written to take care, and dine properly at home undersigned Parul. I smiled.  

"She will never understand Mumbai is my hometown, my family lives there", said I with a sigh.  

I'm Aakash Dutta, a final year B.com student of Delhi University.  

2 years back. It was Sunday evening. The rush was slightly less on the roads and the clouds were emerging out of the sky as if it would start raining anytime. The speedometer of my Ducati X200 was exceeding 70.  

The cold breeze was blowing. Soon, the sky started drizzling. I was crossing the Dilli-Haat when my cell phone started to vibrate. I halt down the acceleration near a bhelpuri vendor, where I first saw her. She was standing beneath the tree, and was looking at the traffic. Few rain drops were plunging on her cheeks and disappearing. It was all like happen in movies. She wore a beautiful pale-yellow kurti over the blue jeans with wine red heels; her image traced in my memory at first sight is still warm. She was picking the bhelpuri in a paper cone.  

"Bhaiya, thoda aur, 20 rupay mein itni kam doge!!" she said, handing over a 50 rupee note to the vendor trying to bargain.  

This made me chuckle. Bargaining is the only reason why girls don't shop online, I concluded.  

My cell phone vibrated again.  

'Ab paayein 70 rupay mein full talk time, sirf apke liye idea laaya hai', I disconnect the call with a disappointment, looking at the board above written Hauz Khas, 5 kms. I ignition the bike and turned my face to catch her last glimpse. She was coming towards me.  

She was merely 8-9 feet away. Her eyes outlined with thin kajal were stuck on her cell phone. One hand was busy tapping the keys and other was holding the paper cone. I was watching her without a blink of my eyes. She was just two steps away from me then. She stepped forward, mouth was crunching bhelpuri and eyes still busy on the cell phone. She suddenly raise her eyes to me and stopped her legs with an impulse. And as a result her bhelpuri sausage was on me, the next second. Her mouth was open. Mine too. Her complexion was glowing. Those thin eyebrows and small blue earrings, long hair fixed with two clips and, the smell of her perfume. Positive vibes were coming from all around. And it all happened within a fraction of seconds.  

"I'm sorry. The day is not good to me," she said lifting those eyebrows up with a clutched tongue burying the dimples. I nodded. 

Eyes were still watching her without blinking. She wipes the sauce from my black Gucci jacket with her handkerchief just to show some courtesy. I was speechless. 

"I hope you won't mind," she said wiping the last drop with a smile. I nodded with a smile putting the bike gear up. 

Somewhere that bhelpuriwali left a smile on my face and soon I realized I didn't even dare to her name. My height and Ducati are enough to impress any girl, someone need not to concern name. Still somewhere, something was going wrong. That bhelpuriwali was still revolving on my mind. The heart was beating fast. I was as attracted as bumblebee on flowers. I was blank. I took a U-turn. She was still standing there, watching the traffic to cross the road. In India, we have to look both sides even on one way road. I park the bike in front of INA metro station. "You can use metro gates as a subway to cross the road?" I probed from behind.  

"Hey! You again", said she with a smile. "I didn't know, actually I had never entered the metro station. I'm new here", she acknowledged. I nodded. 

"Bhaiya, ek bhelpuri, 20 rupay ki aur thodi jyada dena", I said. 

"Did you just pass a comment to me?" she asked making her eyes small burying dimples. 

"Mmm.. nope. So where are you from, Orrisa?" 


"Shopped from Dilli Haat?" I spoke looking at the gunny bags. She laughed.  

"Yes but its too costly than my Ahmedabad. Are you from Delhi?" 

"I'm from Mumbai. You came here for shopping?" I acknowledged paying the vendor. 

"No No, I came here for the B.com counseling of IP University but I didn't get a seat. I don't have Delhi quota. By the way are you a student too?" she said with a smile. 

"Yup. 1st year, B.com. University of Delhi." I acknowledged with little proud. 

"Oh! Good. Where is your college?" 

"Kailash colony. You came alone from Ahmedabad for counseling?"  

"I don't even know where this Kailash colony is, and my brother lives here. Khirki extension", she acknowledged in installments.  

"My brother is calling me, got to go. Can you tell me which bus I should take", she added. 

"I don't know"  

My heart beat was getting fast. Finally I dared to ask her name. I was praying she won't feel awkward.  

"Parul Rao, you?" she told simply.  

"Aakash Dutta", I said with a huge smile.  

"This 629 number bus will drop you khirki extension." Acknowledged the vendor.  

"Your bus is coming. Hope you get a college soon," said I waving my hand. She smiled.  

"Hope you won't mind about the sausage", she said and went inside the DTC bus. 

I smiled. The evening started to darken. I was happy inside. An excitement was there, don't know why. Soon it started to rain heavily.  

All night I searched hundreds of Parul Rao on Facebook but I didn't found her account. It went to 4 of morning when I complete scrounging her name on Facebook. That face was still revolving in front of me. May be I meet her again...somewhere...some other day. I slept putting my cell phone on charge. The admissions were going on in Delhi University. The eighth cutoff list was about to come and the college was going to start the day after tomorrow.  

The next afternoon, I found a Facebook account with her picture. I was on the seventh cloud. I sent her a friend request without wasting time. Her account privacy was high but still her timeline was telling that she uses this social networking site every day. I was opening my account again and again in a hope she will accept my request but she didn't respond.  

The next day was the first day of my college life. The day was special for everyone but it was most special for me because I heard her voice again.  

"May I come in, ma'am." She was on the door. My eyes grew big, my face bloomed as if I won a billion dollar lottery. 

That was probably the happiest moment of my life. I never imagined god can be this much graceful to me. 

"Following me, miss Rao? "I commented. She smiled. 

"Well, Kind of. Yesterday I was admitted here. Eighth cutoff-list", said she with a wink. 

The excitement was glimmering out of my face.  

"Ahem..ahem. So, living with brother?" 

"Nope, there's one P.G. nearby, Meerabai Hostel. You?" 

"Hauz Khas".  

The whole class was watching us. It was going like a dream and if it is a dream then I don't want to open my eyes ever. We shook the hands. The days started passing. We started talking, sitting aside, then sharing books, and then lunches, then problems and joys and time went on and on. Who could imagine that bhelpuriwali would be my best friend one day.

I smiled towards the Airhostess. Moreover, what else boys need other than a seductive white skinned body.  

I was flicking the pages of The Hindustan Times when I saw a snap of yesterday's book fair ceremony. 

"Dipit Kaushik, the author of Dilwalon ki Dilli. I never liked him, before".

3 Days back...

It was near about dusk and I was seated on the iron bench of Vivekananda Public Park, scrutinizing the petals of small flowers. Parul was seated aside me and was busy with some novel. Kids were shouting and playing around us. She was quiet busy with this novel for the last one hour and it made me irritated. Moreover, I was tired of plucking petals from flowers. I drag the novels from her hands. 

"Aakash, give me this novel back", said she annoyingly.  

"I won't. You came here for me or for this novel?" 

"For both. Aakash, I'm on last page, please don't do like this", she said with a sigh. 

"First say, you are the follower of Aakash Dutta."  

"Aakash Dutta, mere baap, I don't even follow you, I worship you. Now please give my novel back"  

"Say 'please' louder, aur thoda pyar se" "Please Aakash. Give me my novel back. Please", she said making faces.  

I hand over her novel. It was titled Just friends, authored by Sumrit Shahi. Again a silence ran between us like before. The sky went emerged in darkness. The street lights were glowing.  

"This novel is all about our life", she suddenly chirped after a few minutes. 

"You know everything about me, right from my favourite book to my favorite bra. I know everything about you, right from your favourite soccer club to your favourite x rated website. I complete your English assignments, even at three in the night" 

"Only once", I interrupted. 

"Hawww! You liar. I did many times. Whatever! You arrange Zara dresses for me, even if it calls for flirting with ugly guys. You have my picture in your wallet. I have your number on speedial. We talk to each other all the time. We talk about each other when we don't talk to each other. We discuss everything from periods to playstation. We have tasted alcohol and then thrown up...together. We have bunked countless classes...together. We can't live without each other. Yet we don't love each other."  

"Because love only survives either in books or in reel life not in real life, its mere attraction", I completed her. 

"Sometimes you speak a lot...don't you? Real love exists."  

"Yes, Like I love Namita" 

"Fuck off! Have you ever seen her mushy face?" 

"I haven't seen and why are you feeling Jealousy, Hun?" I winked.  

"Are you kidding me?" 

"Was just proving"  

"Don't imitate me, otherwise I'll kill you." She hugged me. 

"Don't become romantic while fighting", I said holding her tight in my arms.  

"I forgot you are going home by the way when your flight is? please don't go. I'm going to miss you"  

"The day after tomorrow." I was speechless.  

"Tomorrow we are going to Pragati Maidan", she asked slowly. 

"Oh! Can I ask the reason?" 

"Tomorrow is the book fair. I have tickets for both of us. Dipit Kaushik will arrive as a chief guest. 

"I don't like him much", I said. 

"No we will go surely, Please." I release her from my arms slowly.  

Later, I drop her in front of her P.G. and retraced back my steps to my home. 

"And Aakash, I just forgot to tell you that I have almost completed 'Dilwalon ki Dilli'.You want that tomorrow?"she asked from behind. 

"No, I don't ."I grinned. She smiled too. The street lights were twinkling. The moon was above and traffic was famed as always. Sound of buzzing horns was coming without a break.


10th FEB. 2012

It was quarter past 8 when we were at the Pragati Maidan, the crowd was huge almost half of the town was there to watch an author . Every day he is flashed with a photograph in newspapers. We entered the hall no. six. We occupy the vacant chairs. The tent was vast and books were on sale at good discounts. I saw a big poster of 'Dilwalon ki Dilli'.  

"Parul, what this 'Dilwalon ki Dilli' is all about?" 

"Seemapuri slum area. Actually it's a story about a rag picker who found a digital camera in the trash and his dream to become a photographer. Just a motivational 'Dare to Dream' topic but in a different way", acknowledged Parul. 

"I thought it's a Leila majnu fiction" She laughed. 

"Never judge a book by its cover," she said with a smile appeared behind the lip gloss. 

"Parul, hmm...listen, is this novel with no hero?" 

"Ssshhh...The show is going to get started well you put your fore finger on your lips."  

My conditions resembled as of a four years child who came to see a circus with Mom and fat Dad. The stage was hosted by Mr. Diwan, formal head of Delhi Publishing House. 

"What makes you jealous?" asked Parul after a minute. 

"I'm not jealous. I just don't like him. Is he really worth it?" 

"Good evening ladies and gentleman. First of all, I would like to express my sincere welcome to all. As you all know, today is the first day of this world book fair and we are here to inaugurate this book fair ceremony. On this occasion we have a special guest here, his debut is an instant bestseller. Without wasting time, I would like to invite Dipit Kaushik to cut the ribbon and inaugurate the book fair caremony. Everyone started to uproar and clap. It was not bothering me but still I was not having faith in that the swarm of hundred are cheering for a typical writer.  

"I can bet he will do nothing except he will ask us to purchase his forthcoming novels. Moreover, he will try to prove that he is the best of all."  

"Good evening every one. I'm just an ordinary writer nor was it my ambition to be this. I'm an author by chance. Dilwalon ki Dilli got an ambitious height because of only you people and hope that you all will enjoy my next fiction too. Dilwalon ki Dilli was about the social evil of slums, and owner killing is all about my upcoming novel releasing soon at your door steps. I heartily thank to all my readers who always supported me and my works and gave me the confidence to write more. All credit actually goes to you people. Thanks a lot and the book fair is being started, you can go through each and every book. Thank you again!" 

His voice was a bit hard but influencing, the simplicity of his dress and low attitude behavior was forcing me somewhere to listen his voice. He was saying all with a fake smile. Some loneliness could be noticed on his face. He was sad but don't know why. He was simple but true. Something was there in him that made me to listen him perhaps because he didn't carry his pomp and show for the promotion of his book like every other writer does. He just gave a six sentenced speech and it was just an opposite reaction for me and was the first time when I started liking him. I too buy his debut 'Dilwalon ki Dilli'.

TIME: 10.02 p.m.

'Tomorrow morning is my flight and I have to reach airport by 9. Should I start to read this novel now or not? I was making up my mind. I scroll the first chapter of the novel, the introduction of the beautiful city... chapter 2. the life in a metropolitan...the story of a boy...in the lap...and the strange truth...the segment of life; It took four hours to complete the novel with two coffee breaks but my interest didn't get a bit gone even for some minutes. The suspense was twisted in the story till the end.  

"The cutest climax I have ever read", I yawned.  

I realized the name of this book in bestseller list is not wrong. An unusual kind of respect developed for him. I was somewhere wrong, he was not a typical writer. The whole night spent in thinking about the author and his debut and when I fell asleep, I didn't know.  


Today morning, Parul was already waiting for me at the IGI domestic airport. I went to the luggage check in counter where I forgot that envelop. She cuddled me so affectionately that I forgot everything, my worries, my tensions, forgot the envelop too.  

"Please switch off your cell phone sir, plane is going to take off," said one Airhostess. 

I nodded with a smile. After all how can I deny such a beautiful girl, I will surely be punished in hell if I do so. I was watching out of the aircraft window when abruptly I saw the person's face sitting left to me. I flickered the pages of newspaper and matched the snap. 

"Yes, he's Dipit Kaushik," I whispered. I was shocked, glad too. 

"Hi, I'm Aakash Dutta..," I said in an excited voice. 

"Greeting, I'm Dipit.. Dipit Kaushik.," he replied with a smile. 

"I know you sir, the bestseller author...I'm a big fan of yours. It was like a dream comes true to meet you," I showed my excitement but still not believing he is sitting in front of me.  

"You were in Yesterday's book ceremony, right?" he guessed. 

"You saw me?" I said ecstatically.  

He smiled. 

I said ecstatically.
He smiled. 
“Sir, I want to know how you write with such literary emotions, What is your motivation, your inspiration. I want to know everything about you," I said candidly after his attitudeless smile.

“Everything?” he asked with a grin.

“Yes, Sir. You said you are an author by chance. I want to know everything about your life.”
“It’s a bit tough to tell about my 26 years life in 3 hours journey.”
“Please sir, I would be delighted if you narrate a part of it to me.”
“It’s a long story Aakash but I will surely narrate you. My story is full of dreams, friendship, emotions, un repairable sadness and love.”
“Girlfriend?” he added watching the envelop in my hands.
“No, It’s Just my bestfriend. I’m preety much single.” I was blushing. Kind of. “I don’t have guts to tell her my feelings for the last 3 years. I can’t spoil her life because I usually fell for every beautiful girl.”
He smiled again.

“Listen my story, may be it develop some emotions in your heart and guts to express your feelings. A perfect love is not everyone’s cup of tea.”

I couldn't understand what he told and stared at him like a student who fails to understand anything in the class. And he started with the story that how he became the youngest successful writer...

Want to read the next chapter???? order it now from http://www.ebay.in/itm/Walking-With-You-In-The-Shades-Of-Love-PB-English-by-Deepak-Yadav-/261272845591?pt=IN_Books_Magazines&hash=item3cd5133d17  or  http://m.snapdeal.com/product/walking-with-you-in-the/1434929179

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