At Beyond the Box, we are constantly thinking of ideas to give something unique, refreshing as well as challenging to our community of writers. Two to Tango is one such endeavour to encourage the participants to work along with another writer as a team and bring about a creative synergy. 40+ teams participated in Season 5 of this one-of-its-kind contest and the winners were chosen based on the quality of writing and the dual perspective cohesion. Below prompt was given to the writers and they were asked to narrate the same story from two different points of view.
Prompt – Write a fictional story that begins with a Swiggy order getting swapped — two people receive each other’s deliveries by mistake. How you take it from there is entirely up to you. Maybe it’s a comedy of errors, a fateful coincidence, a strange mystery, or a moment of unexpected connection. Feel free to interpret this in any tone, style, or genre, as long as the swapped order becomes the turning point that sets your story in motion.
The winners in the Adults’ category were Pooja Kabra & Aarthi V Karanam (Team 39). Enjoy their story!
Story Title: THE SWITCH
Point of View #1 (Anita)
By Pooja Kabra
Anita gazed at the jeweled night sky, a quiet ache blooming in her chest. The heavens had millions of stars to chase away their darkness, but she had none. No friends, no one to laugh or cry with, no one except her mother, now gone. A lone tear slipped down her cheek as her mother’s face flickered in memory: warm, smiling, lost.
Her stomach growled. She cursed under her breath, annoyed at the delivery man who had swapped her order. She had asked for a rich, indulgent meal – a feast – but what she got was khichdi, dull and flavorless. “The mix-up would be fixed soon,” the app had promised. She poured herself another glass of vodka, lit another cigarette, and waited.
The room around her gleamed with frozen fragments of her past — glossy photographs, magazine covers, red-carpet smiles. A small-town girl from Rishikesh, she had once ruled the world of fashion. Brands had fought for her face. People had lined up for her time. But beauty fades, and fame disappears.
The first time she slept with a stranger, she had thrown up after he left. The man, a luxury brand owner, had touched her with hands that felt like crawling insects. She had wanted to scrub her skin raw. But the disgust dulled with repetition. Soon, when the calls stopped coming, silence became unbearable. Depression and panic crept in.
She had returned from rehab just a month ago, promising her dead mother that she would take her meds, stay clean, start over. She had lied. She stared at her mother’s garlanded picture.
Tonight was her day. She had ordered from Swiggy everything she had once forbidden herself from eating. Butter, cream, sugar…
A small sigh escaped her as Anita reached for the small bottle on the table — sleek, dark, promising.
Her hand trembled slightly. She thought of the stars again, how they glittered so far away, untouchable. She would be among them soon; shining, free…
The doorbell rang.
She sighed again and went to open the door.
Point of View #2 (Anand)
By Aarthi V Karanam
Dr. Anand Prasad had entered psychiatry with a dream: to heal minds, to ease invisible suffering the body could not show. In medical school, the mind had fascinated him; fragile yet fierce, complex yet heartbreakingly simple. Every day in his clinic, he faced despair in human form. Patients whose eyes had forgotten how to hope. Helping them reclaim even a sliver of peace made him feel purposeful, almost whole.
Almost. Because sometimes, healing wasn’t enough. Sometimes, he watched a patient slip through the cracks, and it shattered him quietly.
Tonight was one of those nights. The clinic had been relentless. Anand felt hollowed out. Too tired to cook, he ordered a simple meal through Swiggy. The humble but wholesome khichdi, comforting in its ordinariness.
But when the order arrived, he was greeted by extravagant dishes instead: rich, creamy pasta, gravies dripping in oil, indulgent desserts…
A mix-up. “Perfect,” he thought bitterly. Even dinner betrayed him.
Muttering under his breath, he called customer support. After a few tense minutes, “You both live in the same building. You can exchange it directly, sir,” the voice said cheerfully.
Anand grabbed the misplaced meal and trudged upstairs. He rang the bell.
It took forever for the door to open. When it did, his irritation dissolved. Standing before him was an angel — stunning, fragile, eyes shimmering under the dim light.
“Hey, I’m Anita! Crazy mix-up, right? Come in.”
He stepped inside. The air smelled of alcohol and perfume. Surprisingly, there seemed to be no one else.
“You’re celebrating alone?” he asked softly.
She smiled, a strange something shining in her eyes. “Yes…”
For some unexplainable reason, the psychiatrist in Anand kicked in with full force. A sharp unease curled in his gut. She seemed unnaturally happy. The high spirits and the lavish spread, it all felt horribly mismatched.
He asked for water. As she turned away to get some, his searching eyes fell on a small, dark bottle tucked under a cushion. His heart lurched. He slipped it into his pocket before she returned.
Then, excusing himself to the restroom, he emptied the bottle, rinsed it, refilled it with water, and placed it back where he had found it.
“Goodbye, Anita,” he said softly.
Later that night, Anita consumed what she believed would end her pain.
And woke up groggy and confused the next morning to the gentle light of another chance. Rubbing her eyes, she whispered, “How am I alive?”
As if in answer, the Swiggy parcels on the dining table stared back at her.
Almost instantly, Anand’s face floated into her mind. Her eyes widened.
Anand woke up cheerfully.
Looking fondly at the Swiggy covers, he remembered Anita. And a slow, idiotic grin spread across his face.