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Five Years before “D-Day”: Lights over Akshardham
The Delhi evening was thick with monsoon promise, the kind that made the city feel alive and restless. Akash had picked Kajal up from her Noida flat in his beat-up hatchback, windows down, old Bollywood playlist on low. They were just two twenty-somethings riding on the pull between late-night texts and stolen glances.
"Where are we going, genius?" Kajal asked, kicking off her sandals and propping her feet on the dash. Her laugh was low, teasing, the kind that could disarm anyone.
"Akshardham," Akash said simply. "You said you'd never seen the light show properly.
"She rolled her eyes but smiled, ”Akash, it's for kids and tourists. Lasers and fountains? Come on, you're supposed to be the futuristic one."
"It's not about the show, it's about the place,” He shrugged. “Bored so early."
They parked near the highway shoulder, the massive pink sandstone silhouette glowing against the dusk like something carved from a dream. The temple complex rose in tiers of intricate jali work, elephants and lotuses frozen in stone, domes catching the last gold of sunset. Kajal stepped out, arms crossed, but her eyes widened despite herself.
"Built by volunteers," Akash said, echoing a fact he'd read. "Thousands of them. No machines, no shortcuts. Just hands and devotion over five years."
Kajal tilted her head. "Romanticizing manual labour now? That's new, even for you."
They walked the path toward Yagnapurush Kund, the air-cooling as night settled. Families milled around—kids in bright kurtas, elders murmuring prayers. Kajal slipped her hand into his without thinking--fingers cool against his palm. Akash felt the spark travel up his arm.
Inside the grounds, the carvings came alive under floodlights: gods and sages in eternal dance, stories etched into every pillar. They paused at a panel depicting ancient rishis receiving knowledge from the heavens.
"Look," Akash whispered, tracing the air above the sandstone lotus motif. "This is where it started for us, isn't it? All the tech we chase today—rooted here, in stories like these. Forgotten chapters."
Kajal turned to him then, eyes catching the glow of the adaptive lighting. "Do you believe in Ancient tech? I feel it’s all a myth."
Akash didn’t pull his hand away; the warmth from the stone felt too deliberate to be a myth. "If it's a myth, Kajal, then why is the air in this room vibrating?"
A low hum—a sound like a thousand distant bees—began to bleed through the floorboards. The lotus motif under his fingertips pulsed once, a dull, thrumming gold that bled into the shadows.
Kajal smirked, her sarcasm finally dropping. "You're such a sap, Akash."
"And you're pretending not to be moved."
The light and sound show began. Sahaj Anand unfolded—multi-coloured lasers slicing the dark, water jets arcing in perfect sync to swelling music, projections of ancient tales dancing across fountains. A massive figure of a deity rose in holographic blue, surrounded by swirling mists and fire bursts. Children in the front rows gasped and clapped; even adults leaned forward, entranced.
Kajal watched for a minute and then leaned into Akash's shoulder. "Okay… the kids are cute. Those little dancers in the projections? Adorable."
He grinned. “Worth everything."
She laughed softly. "Maybe. But don't get used to me admitting that."
As the finale peaked—fountains exploding in rainbow cascades, surround sound thundering a message of unity and wonder—Akash felt something shift. Kajal's hand tightened in his. In that suspended moment, under the temple's serene gaze, they weren't just flirting. They were sharing a quiet recognition: two people who saw the same hidden threads in India's past and future.
The show ended. Lights dimmed. Crowds began drifting away.
Kajal pulled back slightly, that familiar smirk returning. "Alright, Mr. Philosopher— sentimental moment over. Now let's get out of here before I turn into one of those starry-eyed tourists. I need a drink. Somewhere loud. Somewhere… us—Downtown?"
Akash smiled, but a small ache bloomed. He already sensed it—the way she armoured herself against anything too soft, too still. "Downtown it is," he said.
They walked back to the car, hands linked, and the temple's glow fading behind them. Akash glanced once more at the domes, committing the night to memory.
Five years later, the same spot would pull him under again—a different night, a different reality altogether—but the same ache.
What do you think happens next for Akash and Kajal? Drop your theories below.
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#IndianSciFi #DesiFuturism #SACREDnovel #AkashKajal
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