Sid picked up on it within thirty seconds of hopping into the cab.
Alia was perched on the vinyl seat as if it might explode at any moment.
Her back was straight as a ruler, hands neatly folded, and her knees pressed together like she was posing for a school photo.
“What?” she shot back, catching him staring.
“First time in a taxi?”
Her initial, indignant “No” quickly morphed into a reluctant, mumbled “Maybe.”
Sid couldn’t help but grin.
“I knew it.
You’ve never been in a taxi before.”
“I have been in taxis.”
“When was that?”
Alia paused, trying to think, but before she could respond, Sid interrupted.
“Your driver back home doesn’t count.”
Alia rolled her eyes and finally slumped back against the seat, the old springs creaking beneath her, making her glance down in surprise.
Sid chuckled.
“Just relax.”
“I am relaxed.”
“Sure you are.”
The driver glanced at them through the rear-view mirror.
His gaze shifted from Sid to Alia and back to Sid, a slight smirk forming on his lips—a universal male nod of approval.
Sid caught on right away, feeling his cheeks heat up.
Fortunately, Alia was focused on the view outside.
The driver met Sid’s gaze again, offering another tiny smile.
Sid quickly looked away, a bit embarrassed.
Mumbai zipped by outside the windows.
As the ride went on, Alia seemed to loosen up, leaning closer to the glass and watching the neighborhoods shift.
“Where are we headed?”
“You’ll find out soon enough.”
“You’ve said that three times already.”
“Then practice a little patience.”
“I can’t stand surprises when I don’t know what’s coming.”
“Then it’s not really a surprise, is it?”
“Sid.” Alia’s tone was firmer this time.
Sid relented, “Gateway.”
Her eyes widened.
“Gateway of India?”
“Nope, Gateway of Delhi.”
She playfully punched his arm.
Sid rubbed the spot she hit, a teasing tone in his voice as he replied, “You were the one who asked.”
“I’ve been there before.”
“And?”
“So why are we heading back?”
Sid glanced out the window.
“Because I bet you’ve never experienced it like this.”
“Like what?”
He waved his hand around the dusty taxi.
Alia stared for a moment, and then it clicked.
“Oh.”
Sid grinned.
“Exactly.”
She took another look around.
“This is your grand Mumbai tour?”
“Part two.
Part one was all about getting chased by wedding crashers.”
A shiver ran down her spine.
“That was terrifying.”
“You laughed afterward,” Sid reminded her.
“Because it was also a blast,” she replied.
Sid leaned back, a satisfied smile on his face.
“See?
I told you it would be fun.”
Alia met his gaze, her expression softening for just a moment.
Then she said, “You’ve really changed since you started those acting classes.”
Sid’s eye twitched as he stared at her, her grin making him shake his head.
“You’re a terrible girlfriend.”
“But I’m still beautiful, supportive, rich, and—”
“Narcissistic,” Sid cut in.
She punched his arm again.
The driver caught Sid’s eye in the mirror, amusement dancing in his gaze.
Sid leaned closer to Alia and whispered, “Stop giving him material.”
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing.”
When they arrived at the Gateway, Alia was taken aback by how busy it was—way busier than she had anticipated.
The taxi pulled over a bit away, and as they stepped out, she took in the bustling scene ahead.
People were everywhere: families, tourists, kids, couples, vendors hawking balloons, photographers with instant cameras and sample albums, and throngs moving toward the waterfront.
Alia frowned.
“Why are there so many people?”
Sid surveyed the crowd.
“This isn’t even that packed.”
She shot him a look.
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
“Just wait until you come here on a holiday and see the crowd.”
She instinctively moved closer to him as a group passed between them.
Sid noticed but chose to keep quiet.
Ahead, the Gateway loomed, beautifully framed by the sea and the bustling activity around it.
Alia had clearly seen it before—likely from a car, with family, during events, or on some planned outing.
But today, she viewed it through a different lens.
Maybe it was because there was no one orchestrating her movements, no assistant, parent, or driver hovering ten feet away, and no one dictating when they would leave.
They simply walked in silence.
As they neared the waterfront, Sid slowed down.
The sea breeze hit them, and Alia took a deep breath.
“Okay.”
“What’s up?”
“This part is nice.”
Sid grinned.
“It really is.”
She leaned against the railing, her hair blowing across her face.
She tried to push it back a few times before finally giving up.
Sid gazed out at the water.
For a few moments, they enjoyed the quiet.
Sid felt completely at ease in the stillness.
Alia finally broke the silence.
“Have you been here before?”
Sid almost replied as Bunty but caught himself.
“Yeah.” He hoped the original Sidharth had.
“With who?”
“Friends.”
“Girls?”
Sid turned to her.
“Why is that your first question?”
Alia flashed a sweet smile.
“Just curious.”
“Nope.”
“You’re lying.”
“Maybe, unless Sushant counts as a girl.”
She narrowed her eyes at him, and Sid chuckled.
Before she could say more, a man approached with a camera.
“Photo, sir?”
Sid instinctively shook his head.
Then the photographer turned to Alia.
“Madam, photo.
Very nice photo.
Gateway behind.”
Alia hesitated; Sid could see she wanted one.
“How much?”
The photographer quoted a price, and Sid found himself negotiating out of habit.
Alia looked at him, surprised.
“You bargain?”
“Of course.”
“Why?”
“Because he’ll charge us more otherwise.”
The photographer nodded seriously, as if Sid had just uncovered some ancient truth.
They finally settled on a price.
“Come, sir.
Madam.”
Sid and Alia stood side by side, the photographer adjusting their stance.
“A little closer, please.”
Alia stepped in toward Sid, who casually draped an arm around her waist.
It still took a bit of effort, but it felt more natural now.
The photographer peered through the viewfinder.
“Smile!” They both obliged.
Click.
“One more!” Alia tilted her head slightly toward Sid.
Click.
“Sir, look at madam.”
Sid frowned, confused.
“What?”
“Just look at madam.”
Alia burst into laughter, and as Sid turned to her, the camera clicked again before he was ready.
“Hey!”
The photographer chuckled.
“That’s natural, like you two are actors.”
Alia was still giggling.
“What do you mean?”
“Your face looked so tense, like you were trying to hold back a laugh.”
“Shut up!
Something got in my eyes.”
“What?
Fish from the sea?”
The photographer snapped another shot as they playfully bickered.
As they waited for the prints to develop, Sid and Alia stood close, with Alia leaning against him, both watching the photos come to life.
When the photographer handed them over, Alia snatched them up immediately.
“Hey, wait!” Sid tried to peek, but she held them out of reach.
“Mine.”
“I paid for them!”
“Gift.”
“What gift?”
“You bought the photos for me.”
“I never said that!
But if you like them, go ahead and keep them.”
Alia flipped through the pictures: one posed shot, one with both of them smiling, another where Sid was gazing at her while she laughed, and one where they seemed completely unaware the photo was being taken.
She lingered on the last one.
Sid noticed and asked, “Is it that bad?”
She shook her head.
“No.” Then a smile spread across her face.
“I really like this one.”
Sid took a look.
They looked so ordinary, just two young people in front of the Gateway.
He liked it too.
The photographer watched them with a grin.
“You have a very beautiful girlfriend, sir.”
Sid felt his cheeks flush instantly.
Alia looked thrilled.
“Lucky guy,” the photographer added.
Sid fished out some cash a bit too quickly.
“Thank you!”
Alia burst into laughter.
“Are you actually blushing?”
“I’m not.”
“It’s hot.”
“Sea breeze.”
“Take your photos.”
The photographer flashed a knowing grin.
Sid paid him off and made a quick getaway before the guy could say anything more.
Alia caught up with him.
“Your girlfriend is really beautiful.”
“Don’t.”
“I mean it, I am beautiful.”
They split the photos, with Alia handing him two and keeping the rest, carefully tucking one into her bag.
Sid pretended he didn’t see.
His Nokia buzzed.
He pulled it out and saw Sameer’s name flashing.
“One sec.” He answered, “Hello?”
“Where are you?” Sameer sounded like he’d just run a marathon.
Sid straightened up.
“At Gateway.”
“What are you doing there?”
“Long story.”
“Did you lose them?”
“Who?”
“The baraat people!”
Sid glanced at Alia, who was listening intently.
“Yeah.”
“Are you sure?”
“No one’s chased me for an hour.”
“Good enough.”
“What’s going on?”
“Raghav got the money.”
“All of it?”
“Yep.
Meet me at the bridge.
Raghav wants his guitar back.”
Sid looked at the case next to him.
Right—he had almost forgotten he was lugging around someone else’s livelihood in Mumbai.
“I’ll be there.”
“Quickly.”
“Okay.”
The call ended, and Alia immediately asked, “What’s up?”
“The tour’s getting cut short.”
Her expression fell.
“Why?”
“I need to return the guitar.”
“Now?”
“Yep, now.”
She glanced toward Gateway.
“Oh.” The disappointment was so clear that Sid felt a pang of guilt.
“We’ll pick it up another day.”
“But you promised me a tour of Mumbai.”
“I know, but we’ll finish it later.”
“Marine Drive too?”
“Next time.”
She narrowed her eyes at him.
“Promise?”
“Promise.
Now let’s go.”
“Where to?”
Sid grinned.
“We’re taking the train.”
Alia halted in her tracks.
“What?”
The local station was even more overwhelming for her than Gateway.
Sid had picked a time when the crowds were manageable, but still, Alia was wide-eyed, taking it all in.
People rushing by, announcements blaring, men weaving through the throngs, women positioning themselves near the compartments, vendors shouting, ticket windows buzzing, and the metallic screech of trains
“You’ve done this before?”
“Sure, lots of people do it every day.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“Yes.” He hoped that was true for Original Sid.
Alia glanced at the tracks.
“How do you know which train?”
Sid pointed at the indicators.
“That one.”
“Oh.” She paused.
“Right.”
He smiled, but she shot him a glare.
They bought their tickets, and Alia clutched hers like it was a prized possession.
“You can put that away, you know.”
“I know.”
“You look like you just hit the jackpot.”
“It’s my first local ticket.”
Sid chuckled.
“Then keep it.”
“I will.”
When the train pulled in, her excitement quickly shifted to worry as people boarded and got off.
Sid led her into a mostly empty compartment.
Luckily, it wasn’t rush hour, so there were plenty of seats.
Alia settled next to the window and leaned in eagerly.
As the train started moving, her eyes lit up.
Sid watched her expression transform as buildings, tracks, walls, bridges, clusters of homes, and open spaces zipped by.
A refreshing breeze flowed through the open windows, cooler than the warm afternoon air.
Alia beamed.
“This is nice.”
Sid, sitting across from her, replied, “Told you so.”
She closed her eyes for a moment, her hair dancing around her face.
Sid couldn’t help but smile.
This version of Alia was a far cry from the girl who had fretted for half an hour about her dusty shoes.
She opened her eyes.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re staring.
You should be grateful I’m your girlfriend; otherwise, some other girl would have already called you a creep.”
A few stations later, Sid moved toward the open doorway, and Alia noticed right away.
“Where are you going?”
“Nowhere.”
He grabbed the side rail and leaned a bit closer to the opening, letting the wind hit his face.
From behind him—”Siddharth!”
He grinned.
“What?”
“Get back inside!”
“I’m inside.”
“You’re half outside!”
“Not half.”
“SID!”
A few passengers turned to look.
Sid leaned a little further, and Alia’s face went pale.
“Are you crazy?”
“Relax.”
“You’ll fall!”
“I won’t.”
“And how do you know that?”
“I’ve got a pretty strong grip.”
“What if you slip and fall?!”
Sid burst into laughter.
Alia stood up, her expression serious.
“Siddhu, get inside.”
He glanced back at her and noticed the genuine fear in her eyes, which made him tone down the teasing a bit.
“Come see.”
“No way!”
“It’s safe, I promise.”
“No!”
He leaned out again, and Alia quickly grabbed the back of his shirt and yanked him back.
Sid stumbled a bit.
“What—”
She pulled him further inside.
“Sit down.”
Sid couldn’t help but stare.
Alia’s cheeks were flushed, and her eyes were wide with concern.
“You could die.”
The gravity of her words hit him harder than she realized.
He sat down.
“Alright.”
Alia stayed standing, looking annoyed.
“Idiot.”
“I was holding onto the railing.”
“What if your hand slipped and you fell?”
Sid almost chuckled at the irony but decided against explaining.
“Sorry.”
Alia sat back down, her face puffed up in irritation.
Sid tried to hold back a laugh but failed miserably.
She turned to him sharply.
“What?”
“Your face.”
“What face?”
He mimicked her puffed cheeks, and Alia smacked his arm playfully.
“Ow.”
“You deserve worse.”
“You were worried about me.”
“Obviously!” Her anger faded into embarrassment as she glanced outside.
Sid watched her quietly for a moment before saying, “I won’t do it again.”
She looked at him, a hint of skepticism in her eyes.
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
“Good.” After a brief pause, she added, “At least when I’m around.”
Sid chuckled, and Alia suddenly realized what she’d just said.
“No!
Always.”
“Too late for that.”
“Siddhu!”
Nearby passengers smiled at their banter, and Alia lowered her voice, feeling embarrassed, while Sid reveled in his small victory.
Eventually, they arrived at the familiar spot beneath the concrete bridge where the band was gathered.
Raghav’s eyes lit up when he spotted his guitar.
“My child!”
He rushed over to grab the case and inspected it carefully while Alia watched, shaking her head.
“You care more about that guitar than about people.”
“Obviously.
It’s my lifeline.”
Nilesh was busy counting money, while Sameer had a drum leaning against the wall.
Meenal was sitting next to him, munching on something from a paper plate, and Imran looked completely worn out.
Sid glanced at the cash.
“Did you get paid?”
“Mostly,” Nilesh replied.
“Mostly?”
Raghav shrugged.
“Some of it fell out while I was running, but it’s still enough.”
That word again: enough.
Alia picked up on it too, her expression shifting slightly, though she didn’t press them for details.
Sid felt a sense of relief.
They hung around for just a few minutes, enough for Sid to check in on everyone and for Alia to feel a bit more at home.
As they were leaving, Meenal waved.
“Come back soon.”
Alia smiled back.
By late afternoon, Sid pulled over at a small roadside spot that served tea, samosas, and snacks.
Alia looked at the place in disbelief.
“No.”
Sid turned to her, puzzled.
“What?”
“No.”
“You haven’t even tasted anything yet.”
“I can see it, and it doesn’t look safe to eat.”
“It’s perfectly safe.”
“It looks…” She lowered her voice.
“Unhygienic.”
Sid stifled a laugh with a cough.
Alia quickly added, “I mean—”
Sid went ahead and ordered two samosas, and her face fell.
“Sid.”
“What?”
“That’s fried.”
“Good catch.”
“Do you have any idea how much oil—”
“Yes.”
“—And fat?”
“Probably a lot.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.” He handed her one on a paper plate.
Alia held it up cautiously.
“It’s literally glistening with oil.”
She sniffed it, and Sid watched her intently.
“Are you testing for poison?”
“I’m just checking.”
“For what?”
“There could be so many germs and stuff.”
Sid took a bite of his own samosa—crisp, hot, and perfectly spiced.
Alia observed him.
“Good?”
He nodded enthusiastically.
“Very.”
She kept holding hers, listing all the issues: “Too much oil.”
Sid chewed.
“Mm.”
“Carbs.”
“Mm.”
“Fried.”
“Mm.”
“My mom would kill me.”
Sid grinned.
“That just makes it even better.”
Alia blinked in surprise.
Before she could say anything, Sid took her wrist, guided the samosa toward her, and gently nudged it against her lips.
“Go on, take a bite.”
Her eyes widened.
“Sidd—”
With no other option, she bit into the samosa, feeling it slip into her mouth.
Sid let go of her hand, and she started chewing.
Her expression shifted.
Sid beamed.
“So, what do you think?”
Alia kept chewing.
“No.”
“No what?”
“It’s…” She swallowed.
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Fine.”
“Fine?”
Without waiting for permission, Alia took another bite, and Sid chuckled.
She shot him a look.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“It’s still not healthy.”
“Of course not.”
Another bite.
“And it’s oily.”
“Absolutely terrible.”
She took another bite, then realized what she was doing and slowed down.
Sid wore a smug grin.
“Don’t.”
“I haven’t said a word.”
“Your face says it all.”
“Shut up.”
After finishing the first samosa, she glanced at the tray.
Sid raised his eyebrows in question.
Alia said, “Just one more.”
“Health?”
“Today is cheat day.”
“Fat and oily?”
“Hey, it’s all about the flavor anyway.”
“Your mother?”
That made her smile.
“She won’t find out.”
Sid got it—it was more than just food now; it was a little act of rebellion.
No diet plans, no mother dictating what actresses should eat, no trainer tallying calories.
Just a greasy samosa on a Mumbai street because she wanted it.
Sid ordered another one.
Alia savored this one more slowly, relishing every bite.
“Why don’t they serve these at parties?”
“They do.”
“Not like this.”
“Because then the rich folks can’t charge eight hundred rupees for three tiny pieces.”
She laughed.
Sid polished off his own samosa.
“I wanted you to try vada pav.”
Alia placed a hand on her stomach.
“No way.”
“Come on.”
“I’m stuffed.”
“Just one.”
“I had two samosas!”
Alia put a hand on her stomach again.
“No.”
Sid looked genuinely let down, which made Alia chuckle.
“Next time.”
Sid just shook his head.
The sun was dipping lower in the sky, and the evening traffic was starting to thicken.
Alia seemed to notice the time just as her phone rang.
She pulled it out, glanced at the screen, and her face fell.
“Home.”
Sid nodded.
“You should answer it.”
She did.
The call was short—mostly a series of yeses, a few noes, and a promise to come home soon.
When she hung up, annoyance flickered across her face.
“I have to go.”
“I figured.”
“They’re wondering where I am.”
“That makes sense.”
Alia scanned her surroundings—the street, the food stall, the people passing by, her ruined flats, and the tiny grease stain on her clothes that she hadn’t noticed until now.
Then she turned to Sid.
“I really don’t want to.”
That caught him off guard.
“You should go home.”
She sighed.
“We hardly did anything.”
Sid laughed.
“We got chased by baraatis, visited Gateway, took a local train, returned those stolen-not-stolen instruments, and devoured samosas.”
“When you put it that way…”
“Busy day, right?”
She smiled.
“What about Marine Drive?”
“Next time.”
“You keep saying that.”
“There will definitely be a next time.”
Alia looked him in the eye.
“Promise?”
“Absolutely.”
“A real promise.”
Sid extended his pinky.
She stared at him.
“What are you doing?”
“Pinky promise.”
Alia burst out laughing.
“You’re twenty!”
“And you’re almost there.”
“I’m eighteen.”
“Then you’re good to go.”
She linked her little finger with his.
Sid felt a bit silly, but Alia looked thrilled.
“Marine Drive.”
“Marine Drive.”
“And vada pav,” he added quickly.
Once their fingers parted, Sid called for another taxi and opened the door.
Alia paused before climbing in.
“Today was…” She hesitated.
“Great.”
Alia stepped into the taxi but leaned back out.
“Call me.”
“I will.”
She settled into her seat, and Sid closed the door.
Just before the driver pulled away, Alia rolled down the window.
“Siddhu!”
He leaned closer.
“What?”
She smiled warmly.
“Thank you.”
Sid paused for a moment.
“For the samosas?”
“For today.” Her face took on a more serious tone.
As the taxi pulled away, Sid stepped back, and Alia waved goodbye through the window.
He lifted his hand in response as the cab slipped into the bustling traffic.
Sid lingered there for a moment after it vanished from sight.
He had hoped to show Alia a different side of Mumbai, and perhaps he had succeeded.
But as he glanced back at the food stall and the throng of people beyond, Sid realized the day had revealed something else: he had witnessed a different Alia.
One who could sprint until she was breathless, feel a rush of panic when he leaned out from a train, indulge in greasy street food without a second thought, and spend an afternoon among folks who didn’t care about Mahesh Bhatt, Dharma, or Filmfare.
There was something beautiful in that.
Tomorrow, she would head back to her home and family, while Sid would dive back into shooting.
One day wasn’t enough to transform either of them, and it didn’t have to be.
He touched the folded photograph of the Gateway in his pocket, smiled softly, and began his walk home.
AN: How do you want the shooting chapters to be like?