ch-2. Invisible Among Millions
769 Words
The alarm rang at 7:00 a.m., loud and insistent, slicing through the heavy silence of Sakshi’s room. She let it ring for a few moments, staring at the ceiling, before finally turning it off. The rain from the night before had softened into a drizzle, tapping faintly against her window. Her head felt heavy, as though she hadn’t slept at all.
From the kitchen came the clatter of utensils and the faint aroma of tea. Her mother’s voice soon followed.
“Sakshi, hurry up beta. You’ll be late again.”
“I know, Maa,” Sakshi called back, her voice flat.
She dragged herself out of bed, dressed in her usual plain kurta and trousers, tied her hair into a neat ponytail, and walked into the kitchen. Her mother was setting the table with toast and tea, trying to mask her worry with forced cheer.
“Didn’t eat much last night. At least finish your breakfast today.”
Sakshi sat down and picked up a slice of toast. She chewed slowly, mechanically.
Her mother studied her for a moment, then said softly, “Are you okay? You look… tired.”
“I’m fine, Maa,” Sakshi muttered, not meeting her eyes.
Before her mother could press further, her father stumbled out of his room. His hair was unkempt, his shirt wrinkled, his face pale from the night’s drinking.
“No tea ready yet? What do you even do in this house all day?” he snapped.
Her mother quietly poured him a cup without responding.
Sakshi clenched her jaw, stood up, and grabbed her bag. “I’m leaving,” she said, before either parent could speak.
The moment she stepped outside, the air felt lighter, but only slightly.
---
The metro was crowded, as always. Sakshi squeezed into a corner, holding the pole for balance. Around her, the city buzzed—commuters chatting, students laughing, office workers scrolling through their phones.
A man standing beside her glanced at the rain-soaked window and then at Sakshi.
“This city never sleeps, does it?” he said casually.
Sakshi hesitated, unsure if he was really talking to her. She gave a quick nod, murmuring, “Yeah… never.”
He smiled faintly, as if waiting for her to continue. When she didn’t, he looked away, scrolling through his phone.
Sakshi exhaled slowly, relief and guilt intertwining. She didn’t know why small talk felt like such a burden.
---
At the office, the air buzzed with the chatter of colleagues settling in. The glow of computer screens, the aroma of coffee, the shuffle of papers—it was all routine.
“Morning, Sakshi!” her teammate Ananya chirped as she walked past.
Sakshi forced a smile. “Morning.”
Ananya studied her. “You look exhausted. Didn’t sleep again? What do you do all night?”
“Nothing. Just… work,” Sakshi replied, sitting at her desk.
Another colleague, Rohan, leaned over. “Work? Or Netflix? Come on, Sakshi, you can tell us.”
She gave a small laugh, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Something like that.”
They laughed and went back to their chatter. Sakshi turned to her computer, her fingers moving across the keyboard, but her mind wandered. The voices around her blurred into background noise.
Hours passed in monotony—emails, meetings, polite exchanges. She played her part, nodding, answering when needed, smiling when expected. But inside, she felt nothing.
During lunch, she sat with her colleagues. They laughed over a viral video, debated about office gossip, teased each other about crushes.
“Sakshi, you’re so quiet,” one of them remarked. “Do you ever talk?”
She looked up briefly, smiled faintly, and said, “Sometimes.”
The table erupted in laughter, not mocking but playful. Still, she felt the distance widen—between their laughter and her silence, between their world and her own.
---
Evening arrived. The office emptied slowly, people waving goodbyes, making plans for dinner or movies. Sakshi packed her bag quietly, stepping into the night.
The city streets were alive—neon lights flashing, vendors calling out, couples walking hand in hand, friends sharing jokes.
She walked alone, blending into the crowd yet apart from it. The rain had returned, droplets shimmering in the glow of headlights.
Her reflection stared back at her from a puddle—tired eyes, forced smile, a face that passed unnoticed in a sea of faces.
She whispered to herself, barely audible above the noise of the city:
“Even among millions, I am invisible. And maybe… maybe I prefer it that way.”
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- Writer
