The feeling of the wind through his hair was liberating; seeing the blur of lights and images was redeeming. Oh how he loved early mornings, the light of the buried sun warming the sky; the calm before the storm. He could feel a smile encompassing his face, his first true smile in such a long time. He slowed the bike to a stop near a street vendor. His smile was definitely infectious as he could see the young man selling daisies grinning like an idiot. The country air felt good as did the smell of the yellow daisy which he appreciatively took from the man. He turned to see a familiar BMW slowing to a stop a few feet away from him.
"Didn't I tell you, I'd beat you. That is the magic of Virat." He yelled to the occupant of the car who was finding his way out of the car. "That's not magic; you cheated round that bend. Admit it you took the short cut." Viren looked at his younger brother in mock seriousness. "Are yaar, cheating is such a strong word. Let's call it a shortcut. And besides with Fat Gina, there's no way Virat will be beaten." Viren couldn't control the smirk emerging on his face. "Fat Gina? Out of the millions of names you could pick, you picked Fat Gina?" Virat grinned back at his older brother, walking over giving a quick 'man' hug. "Bhai, I love it. Thank you."
Virat grazed his finger over the sign of 'Fat Gina' on his bike as he remembered the day he first rode her. He got up from the garage floor and moved towards the door that joined towards the rest of the house; with one last look at his beloved bike, he turned and strode over to the lounge area. He hated the colour white, it was blank and horrible and lifeless. As he turned he caught a glimpse of himself in the window; the white paling against his darker skin. He felt disgusted, this just was not right.
"Virat, there are some things here which need to be sorted. Your mother and Di can't do it." Inder handed Virat the large shoe box before he himself rejoined the rest of the family on the sofas. Virat sighed before again turning towards the direction of his room and continuing along his journey. He stopped before a certain door, staring longingly but not daring to go in; it was too early, far too early. Once he'd reached his room, he felt himself collapse onto his bed, the shoe box discarded on his bedside table.
He stared up towards the ceiling with only one question: "Why?" He turned again towards the window, not feeling like opening the box but knowing that it needed to be done. He again got up and placed the box on the middle of his bed; slowly he opened the box, the contents to any other would seem random but for him meant everything. Inside sat a Rolex watch, an iPhone, a silver pen and a leather bound journal among other things. He picked up the Rolex watch and held it, remembering when he'd bought it as a gift. He gingerly picked up the journal, holding it in his hands as if it were his holy book.
He glanced towards the image of his brother hung on his wall. The garland of flowers looked sickening near the photo of the smiling Viren. Virat stared longingly at the image before again focusing at the journal in his hands. For the first time, he opened the leather restraints and slowly flicked through the pages. The memories of his brother stunned him; he laughed and cried reminiscing about the various entries, many of them involving him. As he brushed through the pages, a photo fell out. The photo was of a girl, a girl in her twenties; he turned the photo over which revealed the words: 'Manvi'.
Looking on through the journal, Virat noticed the various ripped out pages. There was no mention of this Manvi anywhere. Looking again at the picture, Virat knew that there was something that linked her to his brother. She held a secret; a secret which was calling to him. He had to find this Manvi, no matter what.
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