Morning in Kolkata means rush and noise. The honking of buses, steam rising from cups of tea, wet pavements, and hurried footsteps—this city never seems to stop. In this very city lives Arnab, a junior graphic designer at a private company. After finishing college in Haldia, he moved to Kolkata for work. His life in a small rented flat is simple and lonely—office, work, and sometimes standing on the rooftop watching distant city lights.
Every day Arnab travels by the Kolkata Metro. The 9 a.m. train is almost memorized in his mind. Same faces, same crowd, same tired expressions. But one day, he noticed a new face. A girl stood by the window, wearing a white kurti, a book in her hand, earphones in her ears. Her hair moved slightly with the air. Arnab looked at her for a moment and then turned his eyes away—after all, in a city of millions, no one belongs to anyone.
Strangely, he saw her again the next day on the same train. This time, he tried to read the name of the book she was holding. It was a novel called "Stories of the City." Occasionally she looked outside the window, as if talking silently with the city itself. Arnab felt that there was no tiredness in her eyes—only a quiet peace.
On the third day, the train suddenly stopped inside a tunnel. The lights flickered off for a moment and then came back. Passengers grew anxious. The girl shivered slightly. Gathering courage, Arnab asked,
"Are you scared?"
She smiled softly.
"No. But the city feels different in the dark."
That was their first conversation. Her name was Meghla. She worked at a publishing house. She had a deep love for books, stories, and coffee. Arnab told her he loved drawing. Meghla looked surprised and said,
"Then you must see the city in a different way."
From then on, they met every day—sometimes on the train, sometimes at the tea stall outside the station. The city's busy rhythm seemed to pause for them. Meghla spoke about her office, picky writers, and the smell of new books. Arnab talked about his design projects and how he could spend hours choosing the perfect color for a poster.
One evening, Meghla said,
"Let's go by the river after work today."
They went to Prinsep Ghat. The breeze from the Ganges touched their faces as the sun slowly set. One by one, city lights began to glow. Arnab realized that the city he once saw only as a workplace had suddenly become beautiful.
Meghla said softly,
"You know, the city is different for everyone. For some, it's exhaustion. For others, it's a dream."
Arnab smiled and replied,
"For me, the city now means—you."
Meghla fell silent for a moment and then said gently,
"Like the city, I'm busy too. Sometimes I move far away."
Her words stayed in Arnab's heart.
A few weeks later, Meghla told him that her office was transferring her to Bangalore. It was a bigger opportunity, a promotion. She was unsure. Arnab understood—it was her dream. But his heart felt heavy.
On their last day together, they met again on the metro. The train seemed to move unusually fast that day. Meghla said,
"Distance doesn't always mean the end. Sometimes distance shows who truly matters."
Arnab listened quietly. When her station arrived, she stepped down and said,
"Keep drawing. Maybe someday we'll meet again in one of your paintings."
And then she was gone.
The city returned to its usual busy self. But for Arnab, everything had changed. Every night he painted—the metro crowd, a girl by the window, evenings by the river. He posted his artwork on social media. One day, a comment appeared:
"Is the city still beautiful?"
The profile picture showed that familiar smile. Meghla.
Months later, Arnab's painting was selected for an art exhibition in Kolkata. On the opening day, he felt nervous. As he entered the hall, he saw Meghla standing in a corner, holding a book, her eyes carrying that same calm light.
She walked up to him and said,
"See? We met again in your painting."
Arnab smiled.
"The city never let you go."
Meghla replied,
"Maybe the city never let either of us go."
Outside, light rain was falling. The city lights shimmered on the wet pavement. Kolkata remained busy and loud, yet within that noise, two people found each other again.
Urban romance is not always simple. Sometimes distance comes, sometimes time tests love. But when feelings are true, even a restless city pauses—for two hearts.
And Arnab finally understood that urban romance is not just about love. It is about walking together with dreams, with the city, and with each other. 🌧️💛