"कुछ बातें हम सिर्फ महसूस कर सकते हैं।""Some things can only be felt, not translated." — Aryan Sen
Aryan waited near the school library steps after class.He had no idea if she was really coming.
"Probably just a polite joke," he thought."I shouldn't expect anything."
But then—
"Konbanwa."That voice. Soft. Hesitant. Familiar.
He looked up.Akari stood there, holding two notebooks, one pen, and a half-smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
"You want start Nihongo lesson?" she asked.
He nodded. "Okay... but I also bring this."
Aryan pulled out a small Hindi-English phrasebook. Worn. Pages folded.A memory from his mother's room.
She stared at it curiously."You really teach me Hindi?"
"Deal is deal," he said, shrugging.
They sat under a tree in the courtyard, autumn leaves floating around them like old secrets.
First came the struggle.
"Watashi wa... Akari desu," she said.
"I am Akari," Aryan repeated.
"Now you."
"Main... Aryan hoon," he said slowly.
She frowned."Hoon?"
"It means... am. Like... 'desu' in Japanese."
She blinked, then repeated:"Main Akari hoon?"
He laughed."No, main Aryan hoon—unless you wanna steal my name."
She smiled. That tiny giggle came back.It made him feel... seen.
Next came gestures.
Akari pointed to the sky. "Sora."
Aryan looked up. "Aasmaan."
She pointed to her heart. "Kokoro."
He paused. "Dil."
She looked at him.
"Kokoro... is soft word. But 'Dil' sounds..."She searched for the English.
"...heavy," he finished.
"Mm. Yes," she nodded. "Like... weight inside."
He nodded. "That's... kind of true."
They sat there for over an hour, drawing words, exchanging meanings.
Sometimes laughing at pronunciation.Sometimes just... being.
Before they left, Akari stood up and said softly:
"You... don't look Indian when you are quiet."
Aryan raised an eyebrow. "That's racist."
"No!" she gasped, panicking. "I—I mean… you look like... part of here. Tokyo. When you quiet. Like a tree."
He blinked, confused.
She blushed. "Bad sentence. I fail."
He laughed — really laughed this time.A laugh that sounded unfamiliar to even him.
"You're not failing," he said."You're teaching me how to feel again."
And in that moment, two teenagers from different countries sat under the same sky.
Different tongues.Same loneliness.
And somehow, that was enough.