#pink sarees with black | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

khwxbeeda · 6 months

Text

The Almost Wedding (Ch.I)

Arjun was this close to murdering someone.

More specifically, he was close to grabbing his dear darling sister by her perfectly styled hair and sticking her neck onto a guillotine. At least then she would shut up and stop bothering him.

"Arjun I swear," Tanishka said for maybe the millionth time in the last two hours, "you had better be on your best behaviour, I won't have you- I don't know- flirting with anyone or something even stupider—"

"Aga majhi bai, I got it," he finally snapped, smacking his palms together in a sarcastic namaskar, making her click her jaw shut. "I'll be quiet the entire time. And Tai, why would I flirt with some random boy? He's probably homophobic, anyway."

Her hazel eyes narrowed in a glare, and he returned it with a flat look before turning around to look in the mirror, running his hands through his hair to separate the wavy black strands and checking his subtle eye makeup again. It looked good— just a little gold glitter on the lid and a smudge of kajal on the lower lash line, bringing out the soft golden specks in his eyes. His lip gloss was transparent, but it was enough to make his Cupid’s bow pop.

Tanishka, finally realising she was being ignored, huffed and strode away. Arjun snickered as the sound of her paayal grew fainter and fainter, then went back to applying concealer. College was a harrowing experience, especially for post graduate medical students, and Arjun was not getting enough sleep. At least the concealer helped hide the designer under-eye bags.

"ARJUN!"

He jerked in surprise, and glared at the open door of his room, cursing under his breath. He almost messed up his makeup, dammit!

"EK MINUTE ALO," he yelled back, twisting his concealer tube shut and throwing it onto the dresser, then slipped out into the hallway.

He rushed down the set of staircases three steps at a time, tugging at his collar and adjusting his jeans so the multi-coloured rhinestones on the back pockets arranged in the bi flag were visible.

He had chosen the basic white shirt and baggy jeans on purpose, because while the rest of the family was wearing traditional clothing, he did not have a single kurta to his name and he had been too busy with his studies to go out and buy one. He often thought he had made a mistake by saying he wanted to become a doctor. He really should have followed Krushna into the modelling industry. At least then he would not have to bust his brain— just his body, and he would have had his best friend with him instead of halfway across the world.

He jumped the last seven steps, and was immediately met with a resounding smack upside the head.

"Aai ga," he whined, rubbing his hand over the back of his head and scowling playfully at his snickering aunt as she walked past, the pallu of her baby pink saree swinging left to right. "Chinu Maushi, don't you get tired of being annoying?"

She tossed her hair over her shoulder and winked. "Nahi. Ata chal, get a move on, they'll be here soon."

Ah. Right. His sister’s suitor.

The Kulkarni family had agreed to a rendezvous to decide if their youngest was compatible with Tanishka, and Arjun’s mother had been going crazy setting the house to rights and getting the servants to clean out every single room of the mansion. Even the unused ones. Arjun had made the mistake of asking if the guests were to be hosted in the second basement, and had gotten a chappal thrown at his head for his troubles.

"Yeah, yeah, coming," he muttered, sticking his hands into his pockets and following her out into the kitchen, where his mother was already directing the servants to prepare food and drinks for the Ganpati festival, which was in less than a week, and for the guests that were set to come in about five minutes.

“Hi, Aai,” he said, leaning down to press a kiss to his mother’s temple, and grinned when he received the weird combination of a harried glare and a soft pat to his cheek.

Lavanya Deshpande was one of the most influential actresses in Bollywood, and at the ripe age of fifty-seven, was the richest producer of the Hindi film industry. Despite being married off at the young age of nineteen into a family that did not treat her well and popping out her first baby at twenty, she had risen to national fame and become a household name by the time she was twenty-six, having acted in over a hundred films and produced several blockbusters through the course of her career. She had divorced her husband at twenty-eight and taken her two kids away, changed her surname back to her maiden name, and proceeded to take the international film industry by storm in a short five years.

“Hi, babdi,” she replied, and promptly shoved something into his mouth. “How does it taste?”

Arjun chewed on the thing for two slow seconds, then brightened when he realised it was a gulaab jamun. He nodded enthusiastically and snapped off two quick finger guns.

“Kadak,” he said through the mouthful of the mithai, and she smacked him upside the head. He yelped, but she smacked him again, the look on her face halfway between fond and exasperated. “Swallow your morsel before you speak, murkha!”

Arjun whined in outrage, but one sharp look from her and he subsided, muttering complaints under his breath and rubbing his head. The kitchen— a large white tiled room with two island counters and a whole baking station that was actually used for making festival faraal and mithai rather than cakes and pastries— had been overtaken by the two workers who were cooking up a storm for the festival, and Arjun sniffed appreciatively at a container filled with saffron milk, only to be pushed away by Aai.

“Nahi, Arjunie,” she said sternly. “This is for the guests, you can have as much as you’d like afterwards.”

Before he could reply, the bell rang.

His mother rose to her feet and glided out of the room, the skirts of her baby blue Anarkali flaring out behind her, and a minute later Arjun heard the front door open and the muffled sounds of greetings from the receiving hall. He exchanged a grimace with Chinu Maushi, and exhaled through his nose. She poked him in the back to make him straighten his posture to appear at least halfway polite, and beckoned him to follow her to the living room.

He took a stand next to one of the sofas and stuck his tongue out at Tanishka, just as Aai walked in with the guests.

Four people— siblings, because the parents had passed away. They walked in behind his mother, who had her socialite smile pasted on her beautiful face, and Arjun's breath caught.

All of them were utterly, absolutely gorgeous.

The two women and two men were wearing well fitted casual ethnic clothes, with the older man and woman dressed in identical royal purple kurta and trouser sets with delicate silver embroidery at the collar, and the younger two dressed in white with purple embroidery. They had matching arched eyebrows, smooth skin, oddly perfect noses, and pink lips that were pulled up into polite smiles that made their dark eyes crinkle at the edges, giving the impression that they were actually paying attention to whatever Arjun's mother was saying.

Bappa knew Arjun was not paying attention.

No, he was distracted by the visitors' sheer beauty as they pressed their hands together into a namaskar and bowed their heads. If Tanishka was marrying into this, he was envious, because those were some magnificent genetics. Yes, he grew up around big name actors and actresses walking in and out of his house on a daily basis, but that just made it easier for him to recognise real beauty when he saw it.

"—and of course, my son, Arjun." He snapped back into focus and sent his most charming smile towards them.

"Everyone," his mother said, "these are the Kulkarni siblings. Chandan, the oldest—" the criminally handsome man waved— "Charuta, Charita, and Chaitanya, the youngest."

A chorus of greetings echoed around the room, and they all sat down as the house workers placed trays piled with food and drinks on the teapoy in the middle of the set of sofas.

“So, Chaitanya,” Lavanya began, a large, genuine smile curving up her red-painted lips, “how are you, my child?”

Chaitanya gave her wide smile, and Arjun was pretty sure he felt butterflies in his stomach. The boy was pretty, with almond shaped deep brown eyes, pouty rosebud lips and a pointy chin that would have made him look delicate if not for the sharp cut of his jaw and the intelligent curve of his eyebrows. "Mi masta, Madame, what about you?"

The older actress’s smile widened. "Oh, no need to call me Madame, my dear. Lavanya is fine, and I’m doing good as well.” She extended her hand out towards the food. “Please, do eat your fill, and now, shall we begin with the ‘interrogation’?”

She winked at the last word, and the siblings let out identical amiable laughs. Charuta reached forward and picked a banana chip off one of the plates and popped it into her mouth, pretty glossy lips twisting into a pout as she crunched the thing between her teeth. Arjun forcefully dragged his eyes away from the visual and focused on Chandan, who had begun speaking.

"How are we to do this, then?"

He had a curious accent— somewhere between Indian and French, Arjun realised a second later. He exchanged a look with Chinu Maushi, who smirked at him like she knew exactly what was going through his mind. He turned away without giving her the honour of a reply, but he could feel his cheeks heat up. Thank the Gods for his dark complexion that made it difficult for his blush to be visible, or she would never let him live it down.

"How about you ask first?" Lavanya suggested. "Tanishka asks the next question. Both of you have to answer all the questions posed."

Chandan raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at Chaitanya, who somehow managed to make his shrug look elegant. Arjun honestly had no idea whether to be jealous of or attracted to the man. Both men.

"I don't mind if you don’t," he answered, in the same hot accent as his older brother, and Tanishka nodded.

"I don't mind either. Ask away."

"What are you doing, currently?" he asked, tongue curling deliciously over his R's. Arjun had to forcefully drag his eyes away from that pretty mouth. Chinu Maushi gave him a significant look behind his mother's back that said he needed to stop, and he exhaled with a shake of his head— drop it. Thankfully, she did, but not before she gave him another look. Arjun rolled his eyes went back to the Q&A.

"I'm working as a freelance influencer and content creator as of now," Tanishka replied. “I won’t be signing onto Aai’s company, but hopefully in a few years I’ll take up a contract with a reputable agency as an actress. What about you?”

Charuta and Chandan exchanged discreet looks above Chaitanya's head, who was hilariously short compared to his older siblings. Even Charita was a couple inches taller than him. Arjun had no ground to stand on, however; he was the same height. He had no doubt that if Krushna met Chaitanya, he would tease him for his height the same way he did to Arjun.

Gods, he could not wait to tell Krushna about this.

"I'm in the last year of my Master’s degree,” Chaitanya said, leaning forward to wrap slender fingers covered in silver rings around a glass of chilled panha. Arjun’s eyes tracked the movement, only half focused on the rest of the words he spoke. He glimpsed a small tattoo on the inner side of the wrist, but the sleeves of the kurta shifted before he could get a proper look. “My subject is Physics.”

Oh, pretty and smart.

And so the interrogation proceeded, with Tanishka and Chaitanya taking turns in asking questions and answering them. By the end of the hour, half the plates and glasses had been wiped clean, and Arjun knew the general details and history of the Kulkarni family.

Chaitanya was twenty-five years old, and the youngest of the siblings. Chandan was thirty-nine and married with a seven year old daughter, and Charuta was not aiming to marry at all. She was thirty-five, had passed the UPSC exams on her first try after her LLB, and was working as a diplomat in Delhi at the Italian Embassy in India. Charita was a famous actress who mostly filmed in England and France, and had married her husband two years ago at the age of twenty-seven. Chaitanya was currently teaching maths and physics to school students when he was not working on his thesis for his Masters.

Their parents— Nayantara and Dhruv— had passed away in a car accident sixteen years ago, and Chandan had taken the younger two siblings to Paris to live with their maternal grandmother, while Charuta attended National Law University in Mumbai. The three siblings had stayed in Paris for ten years until Chaitanya completed his high school, and then moved to Pune for his Bachelors degree at Fergusson College.

“And what will you do after your Masters?” Tanishka asked him, leaning forward in her seat with a manicured finger subtly twirling with a strand of her hair. Arjun had seen her use that trick before, and he smirked when he noticed Chaitanya’s eyes follow the slide of the edge of the short square nail through the black curl before flicking back to her face.

“Ah, I’m hoping to continue on to a Ph.D,” he said, and picked up his glass of panha to take a sip. “What about you? Are you planning on getting another degree or—”

“On, no,” Tanishka replied, shaking her head so her curls bounced just enough to attract attention. “I have a masters, and that’s enough for me. Frankly, I’ve had enough of being yelled at by professors.” She chuckled faintly as if letting the others in on a joke, and Arjun stifled a snicker when Chaitanya echoed the sound, eyes never leaving his sister’s pretty face.

“Shall we talk alone?” He asked her, and Tanishka smiled her most charming smile, but there was a gleam in her eyes that Arjun recognised— the one that made an appearance when she had gotten what she wanted. “Why not? I know a cafe ten minutes from here that has excellent French press, if you’d like.”

Chaitanya glanced at Charuta for permission, grinning boyishly when she nodded. When he turned back to offer his hand to Tanishka, his grin was a little shy. It was endearing, and Arjun exchanged a look with his mother, who looked like she had won three Oscars in one go. He stifled another laugh.

Tanishka winked at Lavanya as she slipped out of the living room with her hand in Chaitanya’s, Arjun politely excused himself by citing his studies as a reason and slipped back up the stairs and into his room. He shut the door behind him and threw himself onto the bed, pushing aside the mass of textbooks, and unlocked his phone to hit the speed dial for his best friend.

“Haye tauba,” he breathed the minute Krushna picked up the phone, “they’re all so damn hot.”

The laugh that Krushna let out felt like it was setting off the butterfly effect.

———————

Taglist: @orgasming-caterpillar @h0bg0blin-meat @musaafir-hun-yaaron @mrunmione @girlatreus @shanti-ashant-hai @yehsahihai (lmk if you wanna be added/removed)

#the almost wedding #arjun deshpande #tanishka deshpande #chaitanya kulkarni #amrut writes #chaptered fic #original character #original writing #original work

22 notes · View notes

jalebi-weds-bluetooth · 1 year

Text

IPKKND OS: Lonely In A Crowd

TW: None

Genre: Family, Drama, Angst

Payal Gupta rarely worked a sweat over fashion. If it was simple, felt soft and didn’t require an instruction manual to wear, it was enough. But ever since Khushi informed that Arnav hosted a party for her and Akash, Payal couldn’t think straight.

Although she never had the chance of actually mingling with the Raizadas in their social circle - she still remembered the outfits worn during Anjali’s anniversary. Payal hesitated, Shyam’s secret sat like a deadweight in her mind. She just knew that she and Akash couldn’t be happy because their foundation was based on a truth she and her family hid.

“Jiji!” A flash of gold and pink broke Payal out of her thoughts. Bless her sister for actually finding a saree good enough to wear at a Raizada party.

“You’ll look like a Raees-zada in this saree Jiji. It really looks like gold is stitched in.” Khushi fussed over Payal, checking the sequenced pallu against her shoulder. Payal smiled, the outfit was something she would never wear on any occasion but then this wasn’t any other occasion. She would have to dress up as much as she could.

“Thank you Khushi!” Payal kissed Khushi’s cheek and began dressing up. Despite all the assurances, it was evident to Khushi that Payal was bothered. Who wouldn’t be? It was Arnav Singh Raizada’s party. It’s a surprise the location wasn’t Hell.

Well it was his office. And going by her experience it offered no less than eternal damnation.

Khushi looked at her phone, the poor Nokia crushing in her grip. Then she took a deep breath. Even though she had tried ten times to convince the Laad Governor that Payal was as far from his snobby society as jalebi from achaar, she should call him again.

– – – – –

“Laad Governor!” Payal laughed, wondering what pissed Khushi off now.

“I told him a billion times-”

“-two times,” Payal checked Khushi’s exaggeration, “Jiji, have you ever tried to say anything to the Laad Governor? Something he wouldn’t want to hear!” Khushi huffed.

“Actually I did. About the working conditions in his office.” Payal pointed out, testing the gloss on her lips. Khushi blinked, how did Payal not scheme his torture plan then? Not that Khushi had anything detailed like bleaching all his black coloured shirts and making him sit in a twelve hour puja in a stiff kurta pajama with nothing cool to drink.

So how was it possible that after a conversation with Arnav Singh Raizada, Payal hadn’t planned an elaborate scheme to simply send the exasperating man to another planet? Khushi could bet he’d be far more comfortable and find more in common with aliens than his own species. Maybe he’d terrify them as well with his what the as well.

Also, how did Arnav not send a fifty page letter to Payal highlighting ‘what the’ and ‘how dare you’ about her aukaad in trying to teach him about working conditions?

“Maybe he knew you were Akash ji’s setting.” Khushi mused. Payal responded by throwing a pillow smack on Khushi’s face.

“Try talk-”

“I DID!”

“Oh really? Between using NK ji as a buffer and making fun of what a cocktail party is, when did you talk to him?” Payal pointed out. Khushi opened her mouth to argue but she had nothing else to say. Begrudgingly she had to admit that Payal was right. She never tried to honestly talk to him. Playing dumb charades and singing the praises of jalebis are not “please understand Jiji needs a comfortable environment where she - and Khushi - are not intimidated by everything”.

Agreed, it would mean baring her deepest insecurities to man who trampled her heart-

Khushi bit her tongue at the offending thought. When, where and why did that flare up! Perhaps Devi Maiyya was punishing her for not trying her best for Payal.

And despite Arnav’s eternal scowl, he had proved that with an honest conversation he’d give his best.

It’s literally how Akash and Payal’s marriage was happening!

With a big sigh, she called him.

– – – – –

65 minutes later

“I agree, my recommendations for a jalebi stall wasn’t the best but he knew! He knew I would be uncomfortable. Kyunki he himself said - uncomfortable feel karogi? I told Jiji that Laad Governor must’ve been born after a hundred rakshas died but no, she’s barely a Raizada and she forgot her sister of 20 years for a guy she knows for 20 days. I will not go, not over my dead body!” Khushi yelled at the steaming hot jalebi and stuffed it in her mouth.

At this point she didn’t even know what she was angry about. That he cut the call on her, refused to understand her or knowingly didn’t invite her.

It was her sister damn it! Angry, Khushi stuffed another jalebi. She was now speaking like him!

“Haye re Nandkisore, why are you eating these half cooked ja-”

“TOH KYA? You will also uninvite me from this house like that Laad Governor? Should I stop making jalebis here? Am I so bad? I love parties! I love dancing! I wanted to go there so bad but jaaye meri jooti! Why does everyone always yell at me? Why doesn’t anyone love me-” Khushi sniffled. Madhumati was rarely ever surprised, but Khushi’s sudden outburst caught her off guard.

“Nobody yells at you Tital-”

“HAWW EVERYONE DOES!” Khushi sobbed, blowing her nose into Madhumati’s pallu. Madhumati bit back a smile, turned off the stove and led Khushi to the sofa. At times like this it felt like Khushi didn’t grow a year over eight.

“You were just about to yell at me for leaving Jiji alone…” Khushi accused.

“Haan, but I like your tactic. You yelled at me so much that I forgot what I had to say Nandkisore!” She grinned as Khushi pouted.

“But maybe I shouldn’t have left Jiji alone, she was sounding so off on the phone!”

“But Titaliya, Payaliya needs to learn how to be a part of the society.” Madhumati advised.

“But-”

“No buts! Now let me speak Nandkisore! See, she knew Akash babua comes from a different world. And Akash babua knows ours, so she needs to know his. And knowing you, you wouldn’t have just accompanied Payaliya like a good girl because what is Titaliya without dramatics? Toh accha hua that you didn’t go with her. Akash babua is there with her na.” Madhumati patted her shoulder.

Khushi nodded and switched on the television. Perhaps Buaji was right. But the fear sat in the pit of her stomach. She didn’t want Jiji to be in a space where no one else was like her.

Hey Devi Maiyya, let this be a wonderful party for Jiji!

– – –

It was the most intimidating experience of Payal’s life. The cold drink had gone warm in her hands, and Akash’s palm had long slipped out of hers. She knew she made a mistake the minute she stepped in because no one wore a saree.

The hair piece felt too glittery and she was sure her kajal was too thick.

No one in the party spoke in Hindi. And to make it worse, she was sure everyone checked out her embellished saree at least once.

“Payal ji, are you ok?” Akash returned back to her, and like a balm soothed all her worries. But maybe it was love? For when she reassured him and he left to get another drink, the crowd left her cold.

So far any attempt at getting food was embarrassing. Her appetiser had slipped off the toothpick once and she didn’t realise entree didn’t mean starters. It meant main dish. And while she understood English perfectly well, the embarrassment of mispronouncing Givenchy was enough.

Akash had smoothed things, chuckling how every fashion brand had one motto - to give the weirdest spellings to trick consumers - but it did nothing to quell her discomfort. Half of the conversations around her were a blurred paragraph of ‘fashion, business’ where she had little to contribute.

Even friendly comments like “Oh you’ve never been to France? Well it’s good you married a Raizada! Akash, make sure to take her to Paris!”

She didn’t marry him for the money.

And the worst is she didn’t have an answer for what she did. She was just… home. Cooking, cleaning, assisting Buaji. When the main dish - entrees - arrived, she was the only one not using chopsticks on the table.

That’s when a morsel in her mouth felt unfamiliar.

It was meat.

She reached for water but spat at the fizziness.

The whole party’s attention fell straight on her. Akash immediately went up to her as Payal coughed up the sparkling water. Arnav rushed up with some extra tissues, and Payal looked around, tearing up in embarrassment. NK offered some water, sympathetic to her now drenched saree.

“It’s ok Payal ji,” Akash began but Payal ran away to the bathroom, leaving the crowd in silent hushes.

That’s when Arnav knew, he screwed up.

– – –

‘Laad Governor’

Khushi rolled her eyes at her phone. So now he had the audacity to call her? Right in between watching Govinda rock Katrina’s party. Perhaps that’s exactly what Jiji was doing! Her quiet elegant aura would captivate people.

Madhumati tapped her fingers to Soni De Nakhre, Titaliya was right. Ordering food from outside for one night did feel like a girls’ day out. She had forgotten when it was the last time eating Chinese food in front of the telly.

Khushi’s phone buzzed again.

“Ugh, I now get why you’re frustrated with that man!” Madhumati grumbled and Khushi gave her a high five. Probably Akash ji had the sense to admonish Arnav for not inviting Khushi.

Or as Buaji had just told her the way Jiji had put the Laad Governor in his place, she might’ve yelled at him for not calling her darling sister. Good!

“Tell me, finally you realised you should’ve invited me to party haina? As if Khushi ke bina-”

Madhumati watched Khushi freeze, every joy stripped out of her face.

In a flash Khushi grabbed her wallet and ran out - uncaring of her dupatta or rubber sandals.

“Aye Titaliya!” Madhumati hollered.

“Jiji needs me.” Khushi shot back, hailing an autorickshaw.

– – –

Arnav, NK and Akash waited by the bathroom door. Payal’s muffled sobs were barely audible. She hadn’t responded to Akash or NK’s requests. The sneer behind ‘huh opposites do attract’ was evident. All attention had been on the new Raizada member that couldn’t pronounce brands, wore garish colours, fumbled with chopsticks and couldn’t stomach sparkling water.

Arnav’s glare had kept them silent, but it didn’t remove the judgement from their eyes.

“Khushi ji, thank God you’re here.” NK escorted Khushi who ran in her pajamas, hair askew, “Where’s Jiji Nanhe ji?” Khushi asked, frantically looking around for her sister. A look at the party and her heart sank. Everything was so foreign.

“Khushi, Payal is in-” Arnav pointed Khushi to the bathroom.

“I don’t remember asking you,” Khushi snapped, her eyes wild in anger. The audacity of that man. Arnav glowered back - he was trying to help, damn it! He knew things didn’t turn out as he had expected but this was unanticipated.

Khushi banged on the bathroom door, “Jiji, it’s me.”

Payal cracked the bathroom door open and braved a smile, “Khushi… you didn’t have to come. Oh no… did you come here in your pajamas? What will everyone-” Khushi engulfed Payal in a hug. Payal broke down, the warmth of Khushi’s hug finally making her feel safe, at home.

NK headed to the party, doing damage control and sending the guests back home with his classic, cheerful grin. Akash shuffled on his feet, unsure how to manage the situation.

“Payal, don’t worry. It’s not a big deal-” Khushi broke the hug at Arnav’s attempt to reassure her sister. She looked dead into Arnav’s eyes and he balked at the anger simmering in her look.

“Payal ji, if you don’t mind can we speak?” Akash asked. Payal nodded.

“Yes, please talk to her, Akash ji. My family and I very happily gave Jiji to you under very different expectations. I can understand all this happening when he-” Khushi pointed to Arnav, “- is here. Because he doesn’t see beyond himself or his world.” Arnav seethed at the insult. How dare she? Would she even care to listen to him?

“But you? Are you just like your brother? But… better mannered?” Khushi asked, her voice cracking at the end. Perhaps Arnav was the best in the family. He was the only Raizada who actually showed her what the Raizadas were. For all of Nani ji’s politeness, she could barely acknowledge her own daughter in law only because she was middle class. And although Anjali ji was extremely kind, she didn’t hesitate using the contract and money against Khushi when it was necessary in her terms.

And here was Akash, the man Payal loved.

Despite him, Payal was lonely in a crowd.

Akash, unlike his brother, heard her accusations that Khushi said and didn’t say, in a quiet acceptance.

“Khushi, you’re taking this too far.” Arnav warned her. He too understood what Khushi insinuated.

“She isn’t Bhai.” Akash cut in, “You’d do much more for much less.” Khushi calmed as Akash stepped in her defence. Arnav frowned at the open defiance but had nothing to reply when all Akash said was truth. Perhaps unlike his brother, Akash was more perceptive.

“Payal ji, may I?” Akash held out his hand, escorting Payal to a private area, away from the argument that was bound to happen. Khushi ushered Payal and turned to look at Arnav.

“Not a big deal Mr. Raizada?” Khushi snapped, not giving Arnav a chance to speak. Arnav closed his eyes and willed himself to calm down. Akash was right. Arnav had been much worse for much less.

“Khushi, I understand why you’re angry but trust me this isn’t a big deal.” Arnav said slowly, taking a step towards Khushi, offering peace.

“Nothing ever is, is it Arnav ji?” Khushi laughed, shaking her head at his incredulity.

“Khushi,” Arnav began but Khushi raised her hand, her laughter dead into a silent tight lipped smile.

“Jiji’s embarrassment is not a big deal. Me regularly being overworked at your home for the same amount of salary is not a big deal. Your office making fun of me is not a big deal. Dropping me off a floor is not a big deal. Releasing my photos in the news is not a big deal then what in the world is a big deal for you Arnav Singh Raizada?!” Khushi yelled.

“Khushi, I didn’t mean that.” Arnav said.

“Mean what Mr. Raizada? And I don’t care about what you meant or not or what is a big deal for you or not. I begged you, pleaded you that please make this party comfortable for her. You have no idea what it is to be in a place where no one dresses like you. Where everyone speaks a foreign language that’s hard to pick up. Where you can hear people snickering but nobody says anything to your face. Where there’s no food nearby that you can eat and feel comfortable.” Khushi stopped, her eyes welling up at the memory of her being bullied at AR. Arnav’s face fell. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Khushi no longer was speaking about Payal.

“Khushi, I’m…” Arnav broke off, the apology stuck at his throat for it didn’t feel enough. Khushi rolled her eyes at his inability to verablise the words. Arnav cursed himself, for not even doing the bare minimum.

“Anyway, why isn’t Anjali Ji here?” Khushi asked.

“Di wouldn’t be comfortable here so-” Arnav broke off, understanding dawning on him. He could understand his sister’s comfort, but not his sister-in-law’s? In his spite to override Khushi and show off what he could provide at the snap of his fingers, he removed the one thing her family truly depended on and trusted him for.

Reassurance.

He was the only thread of reassurance for this marriage and today he alienated the new member of his household out of spite. Even if it was unintentional. Khushi chuckled mirthlessly, for Arnav wasn’t as daft to the situation as she thought.

He knows what comfort is, but was too spiteful to act on it.

But perhaps she had flamed it as well. If she had truly told him about his sister perhaps things would have been better. Yet she was busy fanning her pride over the matter, making it all about herself when it was about her sister.

“Arnav ji, I know you don’t respect me and never will. I also know you’re capable of making apologies when necessary and affording my family the respect they deserve. So that means I’m the problem. And I promise I won’t get in your way, visit your house or even get involved in your family’s end of the rituals if it ensures the happiness for my sister. My childishness, our anger, nothing matters. Just keep her happy, that’s it. It’s the only thing I’m trusting you with. It’s the only thing I’m begging you for.” Khushi promised, tears rolling down her cheeks.

From now on Khushi would hold herself back if it meant Payal could live happily in the new household. It was a clear reminder that her actions would have repercussions in Payal’s marriage. This disastrous party was just a petty example.

Arnav tried to hold Khushi, his own pettiness shaming him. He didn’t mean this. He didn’t need her to beg for her sister’s happiness. Goddamnit he didn’t want their anger to affect Payal and Akash’s nascent relationship.

Khushi turned away and left, leaving Arnav’s hand to stop her in the air, regret painted all across his face. When NK jogged up to Khushi it became clear as day to Arnav that it was jealousy.

And fear.

With his jealousy satiated by throwing a party that NK couldn’t even imagine, his fear came true. Khushi didn’t need another man for him to lose her. He simply never had her in the first place.

– – –

Khushi’s heart filled with joy as she watched a happier Payal return with Akash coat around her shoulders. The air was indeed chilly. Payal gave her a reassuring smile and Akash gave her a soft, apologetic one.

“I am sorry saali saheba. But the next time I disappoint you please throw one of your jalebis or the one liners you give to Bhai. Your anger truly frightens me.” Akash gently held his ears, leading the sisters to laugh.

“So you mean there will be a next time?” Khushi faked anger and Akash flustered, “Nahi! I mean if in case but that doesn’t mean it will happen again!”

Payal twisted Khushi’s ear, warning her against teasing Akash too much.

“Oho Khushi ji, leave Akash alone. He already deals with Daanav” Khushi’s eyes went wide as NK corrected himself, “I mean Naanav.” Akash rolled his eyes.

“Payal,” Everyone stopped smiling as Arnav came into view. Perhaps NK wasn’t mistaken to call Arnav a ‘daanav’, Khushi thought. Arnav strode towards Payal with purpose and instinctively Khushi came in his way.

Arnav looked at Khushi for a moment, the lack of trust evident in her eyes. He released a sigh and side stepped her. Khushi guffawed at the audacity.

“Can I speak to you in private?”

– – –

“It’s ok, you don’t have to apologise.” Payal dismissed Arnav as they reached the hall.

“As the host of the party it was my responsibility to ensure your comfort. I didn’t.” Arnav said, unable to look at her in the eyes, “Also as your brother in law I should’ve looked after you. I didn’t.”

“It was just not my day, I’ll adjust better in the future.” Payal assured him.

“You shouldn’t have to. If you don’t enjoy this environment then that’s it. None of us question why Di won’t be comfortable here, there’s no reason why anyone should raise eyebrows at why you don’t like these parties either.” Arnav told her.

“Arnav ji-”

“Bhai,”

“What?” Payal asked, surprised.

“That’s what I am, right?” Arnav shrugged. Wasn’t it customary that the relationship Akash have in this family be transferred to Payal as well? Payal’s hesitation meant only one thing - nobody in the family gave her the feeling that she is a part of the family.

“Bhai…” Payal tested the word, feeling strange to call this man as her brother. Arnav nodded, the word giving him the knock of responsibility he should’ve adopted long ago.

“From today you’re no different to me than Akash or Di. There should never be a reason why you’re crying. And if you are crying, there shouldn’t be a reason why you won’t tell me why, ok?” Payal laughed as Arnav attempted to comfort her.

“Try adding a smile to everything you just said.” Payal requested, desperately trying to keep her laughter in check.

“What?”

“Ar-Bhai, you look like you’re giving orders instead of being kind.” Payal grinned. Arnav looked away, flustered. Was his generic mode to always give orders?

“In all the tales she’s told of you, I see why she calls you a Lord Governor.” Arnav frowned, Khushi told stories of him? And is that why she ended up with the moniker Laad Governor? A small smile lit his face. He caught himself and extended a hand to Payal who cautiously shook.

“I’m serious Bhabhi,” Payal looked up, surprised at him calling her that, “you genuinely don’t have to worry. From now on, your family is mine.” Arnav promised.

“You don’t have to take so many responsibilities. My sister is more than capable of handling my family.” Payal beamed in pride. Khushi had taken everything on her shoulders with strengths even the elders didn’t have. Her smile fell as the worry of Shyam bugged her. Arnav, Akash and the whole family deserved the truth.

“What happened?” Arnav asked.

“Nothing, and anyway, thank you.” Payal smiled on her way out. Arnav shrugged.

NK joked that Payal was alive after Arnav interrogated her and Akash smacked him on the head. Arnav shook his head at the interaction and frowned. Khushi was nowhere to be found. His shoulders felt heavy with the new set of responsibilities. Guilt and fear sat in the pit of stomach. He knew that he and Akash were more than capable of looking after the Guptas, but it was true that he was the root source of most of their problems.

How would he solve everything? Khushi wouldn’t hesitate to actually beating him up if he so much so offered a cent to her.

He ran his hand through his hair, the Gupta family’s issues forming a new checklist in his head next to Mami’s wish for new jewelries and Nani’s desire to bring in a family priest from Lucknow. That’s when the air changed and Arnav looked up, searching for Khushi.

He found her by the hall door, stunned.

She had overheard everything.

– – –

Arnav and Khushi returned to their old bickering without a hint of the kindness of his promise to Payal or bitterness of the argument lingering.

Except one thing changed, neither Arnav nor Akash left either of the sisters to be lonely ever again.

Be it in front of their own family when Mami questioned the value of a steel plate.

Or on stage when Khushi stood without a dance partner.

– – –

The end! I hope you liked this one shot 😊

#ipkknd #iss pyaar ko kya naam doon #ipkknd ff #One shot #lonely in a crowd #Jalebi writes

39 notes · View notes

ramayantika · 1 year

Text

Filmi prompts from old and our favourite bollywood songs that can be used for your desi romantic stories or as a cute little idea for your fake scenarios. Kya malum sochte sochte kab manifest hojaye?

1. Neele Neele Ambar Par (Kalaakaar)

-- This summer vacation you are at your nani ghar. The nights provide respite from the scorching heat so you run off to the terrace every night to sit and gaze at the moon until one fine evening, you see a boy opposite to your house wistfully gaze at the moon and scribble something on his notebook. His wavy hair falls gracefully on his eyes, and you can feel your heart melt. It's full moon, and she is right on the top of the terrace, letting her moonbeams fall on this handsome quiet writer. Perhaps, he realized someone's gaze over him. He looks up, and you swear to God that you have never seen such a beautiful boy ever. The boy blushes and continues writing while stealing glances at you.

2. Mitwa (Chandni)

-- It's the last day you both will ever meet in the school premises. Yes, it's farewell today. You are dressed in a yellow chiffon saree. For the first time, your school decided to make the boys wear kurtas instead of the usual suits, and the sight was too pretty for your eyes. Your boyfriend wore the typical black kurta with cuffed sleeves that made your heart go dhak dhak. Loads of fun filled dancing, canteen ka khana, principal ke speech ke baad arrived the time to say goodbyes. School had kept the farewell after board exams so this was literally the last time you all gathered together. After hugging your friends, you go to the school main gate and find him leaning against the adjacent wall.

Hand in hand, both of you walk outside the school. 'Everything is going to change, isn't it?" You ask. He takes a bite of his ice cream, and answers, "Yes. No more school classes, no more sneaking out and we might have a long distance going on, but some things will stay permanent."

"Aur voh kya?"

"Tere mere honthon pe mithe mithe geet mitwa.."

3. Bole Chudiyan (K3G)

-- You are the bride's sister, and that boy is your acadmeic rival at school. However, for now, he is also your jija's dear brother. Today is Sangeet, and you were determined to outperform ladke vale. Both of you were good at academics, but also at dancing. This was a test and a chance to rub defeat on his face.

That was your actual plan until two days ago, your didi jiju decided to have a group combined performance where you and your rival would be the lead dancers to unite both the enemies (you and him). Needles to say, you were mad. There was no way you would dance with his smooth moves and charismatic style. He was mad too. He would never dance with your graceful bollywood moves straight from 90s Saroj Khan choreohgraphy.

Keeping aside snide remarks and your school rivalry, both of you managed to choreograph and coordinate everyone dashed with a little tension that did not go unnoticed by didi jija and cousins. Dressed in a baby pink lehenga, you see him arrive on the stage in a golden white sherwani. He sends a two finger salute to your direction while you roll your eyes.

'Aake meri duniya mein vapas aajana' you pull him gently as per the choreography. He stumbles towards you, not aware of his scarf clinging on to your bracelet. 'Sehra baandh ke mahi tu mere ghar aana...' He twirls you halfway and you notice that his scarf is stuck on your bracelet.

You hate how his stupid handsome smirk is making butterflies fly in your body. After the semi twirl, he turns you over in front, his arm around your bare waist causing you to gasp silently. God knows what came over him. He lightly pecks your cheek in front of everyone and discreetly removes his stuck scarf.

'Oye soni kitti soni aaj tu lagdi ve bas mere sath yeh jodi teri sajdi ve' Didi and jija come in and dance to their assigned part. You run away from him quickly to calm your racing heart.

He is looking at you, a grin gracefully sitting over his pretty lips. You bashfully look up. 'Haan main ho gaya tera sajna.' It's the time for all the boys to come together on the stage. Your rival shoots a smooth wink before going to dance.

4. Ek ladki ko dekha toh aisa laga (1942: A love story)

You accidentally fell from your cycle by speeding over the speed breaker. Obviously you won't cry. You are fifteen now. A girl quickly arrives towards you, and in a soft voice asks, "Hey, you okay? That was a terrible fall. Dhyan kidhar tha?" Wincing, you look up, and see a pretty girl with silver jhumke and white salwar blowing at your wound. She is wearing a multi coloured bandhani dupatta. In two seconds, you forget the blood oozing out of your knee. The only red your eyes are focused on are on the pretty red shade of the girl's lips.

She is about to tear her dupatta to tie it across your wound. Your hand immediately holds her wrist, and you feel electricity jolt in your fingers. "Itna sundar dupatta kharab mat karo. Ghar idhar paas hai. Just help me to reach my gate, please."

Shaking her head, she tears her dupatta while you let out a gasp. "You are bleeding too much, besides I can always buy a new dupatta." She finally looks up at you and smiles. That's when you get a clear picture of her face.

Doe eyes lightly lined with kajal, a small bindi right between her eyebrows, and a small stone nath on her nose. She looks heavenly! You think how in front of such a beautiful girl, you look dust laden after falling off your bicycle.

"Aise mat dekho... tumhe pyaar ho jayega."

*:..｡o○　○o｡..:**:..｡o○　○o｡..:**:..｡o○　○o｡..:*

Okay so the last one was inspired from @morally-gayy series.

There are going to be more. I can make them shorter though if you would want that.

Guys padh lena 🙏

Me forgetting to tag people again: @sanskari-kanya @manujanolavu @ma-douce-souffrance @kaal-naagin @ketchup-jar-ka @arachneofthoughts @irlparvati @krishna-sahacharini @krishna-priyatama

#samridhi writes #desi song prompts #love stories

52 notes · View notes

masked-alien-lesbian · 8 days

Text

KTAW Day #1: Culture

Holi: Festival of Colors, Love and Spring

"How do we wake her up?" Kiara faintly hears Raelyn muttering.

"Just gently nudge her arm, but hurry my love, this breakfast tray is quite heavy." Hana's voice sounds somewhere in the cloud of light sleep Kiara was drifting in. Then suddenly Kiara was being wildly shaken.

"Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey...well not really, but malpuas didn't rhyme so..." Raelyn-

"Gently, Rae, gently!" Hana admonishes Raelyn and then looks at Kiara who is sitting up disheveled and disoriented.

"Sorry Kiara, I think they're excited for our first color festival." Hana says apologetically.

"We brought you breakfast!" Raelyn sings as Hana sits the tray in Kiara's lap.

"Oh my...this is so sweet!" Kiara says touched by her best friends surprising her with breakfast in bed.

"Literally so sweet, I've had a stack of rainbow waffles and I'm about to bounce off the walls." Kiara laughs at Raelyn before beginning to nibble on her sweet breakfast.

"We'll let you eat in peace, Kiara, meet us downstairs when you're ready?" Hana says while swatting at Raelyn's hand who was trying to steal an idli (a savory rice cake) from Kiara's plate.

"I will." Kiara says smiling at the couple's antics and admiring the view outside of her window as they shut the door behind them.

An hour later, Kiara came down into the main living room at the small villa in Mathura, the Valtoria duchesses had rented for the weekend. The rest of the friend group had prior obligations and weren't able to attend but miraculously, Kiara was in-between social events and with a little pleading from Hana, Kiara joined the couple for their first Holi festival.

Kiara knew about Holi and what it stood for. A celebration of the end of winter and the beginning of spring, a celebration of love, and an occasion to reset and renew ruptured relationships and end conflicts. But knowing the indept cultural and historical aspects of the Hindu traditions, didn't mean Kiara had ever participated and looking at the couple in matching white and pink flower saree and kurta, Kiara felt awkward and out of place in her black dress.

Hana's saree and Raelyn's white kurta and trousers with pink rose jacket.

The couple turns at Kiara's arrival.

"I knew she'd be wearing something black!" Raelyn exclaims.

"Oh, je suis dèsolè, is this dress not appropriate?" Kiara asks looking down at her dress unsure.

"You rock black like a queen, Kiara, but you gotta wear light colors so the colors of the powders show up." Raelyn says.

"Don't worry, we got a gift for you." Hana says before opening a conveniently nearby closet and pulling out a dress in a garment bag.

Trying the beautiful silk ruffle saree on in the bathroom, she marvels at the colors before coming out to show it off.

Kiara's saree

"Whoa!" Raelyn-

"Ahh! I got the size right!" Hana claps.

"Hana...Raelyn...merci beaucoup...this is so beautiful, it's almost a shame that we're about to ruin it." Kiara says hugging Hana.

"Speaking of..." Raelyn says grinning mischievously at Kiara before gently dabbing bright green powder on her nose. The two stand staring at each other in a show down.

"Oh, this is war." Kiara says quietly, slowly smirking. The grin on Raelyn's face slips off when Hana hands Kiara a heaping bag of pink powder.

"Now, now hold on a minute!" They say backing out of the patio doors at the two grinning ladies that were both holding bags of powder, advancing on Raelyn.

"Rae darling? You really should be running." Hana says causing Raelyn to squeal and run. Hana and Kiara laugh as they chase their quarry.

@kiaratheronappreciationweek

@sazanes

@lizzybeth1986

#choices #pixelberry #playchoices #Trr #The royal romance #kiara theron #Kiara #KTAW #KTAW 2024 #kiaratheronappreciationweek #KTAW Day 1: Culture #If I got anything wrong #Please correct me #I love the color festival and Diwali #And the south Asian culture and aspects of Hinduism #So much #So I hope I did it justice

5 notes · View notes

suumaya-23 · 1 year

Text

0 notes

girlsgirl06 · 8 days

Text

WHAT'S YOUR STYLE?

DISCOVER YOUR STYLE!😉

Fashion is very important. Being well dressed makes the personality more beautiful and strong.

The way you dress tells a lot about you. You might have noticed the type of outfits you wear, you feel the same way. For example: When I wear that oversized baggy clothes I feel so cool and become kind of very open and confident. And when I wear beautiful dresses I feel like I'm the princess. So you understand our clothes create a great impact on us and our behaviour.

So dress for not getting attention but to feel confident and pretty. Dress for yourself, not for others. Dress the way you want to.

Now, let's have a look on some of the most trendiest and amazing types of style. Observe each style and find which style matches your vibe☺️

1. CASUAL/ STREET WEAR/CHIC STYLE

Casual/Street style or Chic style is about being a little simple like pair of jeans and top or shirts, like anything that's comfy.

2. DARK FEMININE/FEMME FATALE/ ELEGANT

A Dark Feminine or Femme Fatale is a woman who styles mostly in black, red or dark colours. Her style is so elegant and classy. She often wears backless dresses or Blazers with a pair of heels accessorizing with beautiful jewellery. She dresses like she's the queen.

3. SOFT GIRL/GIRLY GIRL

A Soft girl style is very cute one. She often wears floral dresses or anything of floral print, skirts, a-line dresses etc. She mostly chooses colours like white, pink or pastel light colours. This style is more about being cute and girly. You can also add cute stuff as accessories.

4. TOMBOY

Tomboy style is one of the most savage styles among all. It is all about wearing oversized shirts, tshirts, sweatshirts, hoodies, baggy jeans/trousers accessorizing with caps, beanies, headbands, shoes, chains, studds etc. This style is more about being a cool girl.

5. Y2K

Y2K which is one of the most trendiest styles nowadays is a recreation of 2000's fashion. Wearing dresses and jeans underneath, styling skirts with oversized tees, bell bottoms jeans and accessorizing it as much as possible.

6. COQUETTE

Coquette style includes Ribbons. It is accessorizing ribbon on hairs or on clothes, mini skirts with cute crop tops. This style is very similar to soft girl style.

7. COTTAGE CORE

Cottage core is also similar to soft girl style. Wearing light colour outfits, mostly floral print, accessorizing with bows and pretty necklaces, bracelets, earrings etc. You can add crochet bags, baskets if going on trip, long skirts and cardigans.

8. OFFICE SIREN

Office Siren is also recreation of 2000's style. It is a classy and attractive style. If you wanna be looked up as a classy, elegant, smart and charming woman at office or wherever, you should go with this style.

9. DESI CORE

Desi core is an Indian girl's style. Wearing Indian traditional outfits like kurtis, lehengas, sarees etc. Accessorizing with Indian jewellery like jhumkas(earrings) or bangles etc. I'll make a detailed blog on Desi Core as it's one of the most beautiful styles.

Your style makes you known. Wear more of your style, buy clothes according to your styles. Remember buying expensive clothes is not the point, buying the clothes that matches your vibe and style is more important. But also remember to spice up your personality by switching the styles. So do have more than one style, it will make your personality mysterious and interesting. You can also make a mix of styles to look more stylish and fashionable. For example: You can have that Femme Fatale look with a bit of soft girly style.

You can find the inspo of your style on the best app of all time PINTEREST❤️

I hope I made it easier to find your style. Dress well, Vibe well😉

Thankyou for reading my blog ❤️

#style #fashion #korean fashion #ootdfashion #street style #coquette #cottagecore #desi core #ootdinspiration #ootd #ootd inspiration #ootd inspo #ootd style #fashion inspo #fashion inspiration #blog #tumblr blog

3 notes · View notes

cynefinisms · 27 days

Text

( sobhita dhulipala , agender , they / she ) — as the demons pour out of the sea NAVULURI makes their way to the shore, a THREE - HUNDRED year old creature who appears THIRTY - THREE. here with their feet planted on cynefin’s soil, it is images of SPUN & SPARKLING FAERIE FLOSS UNRAVELLING SWEETNESS MELTING UPON THE TONGUE BENEATH THE DRIVING HEAT OF THE SUMMER SUN ; THE DAMPNESS UNSETTLING THE HEM OF A FAVOURITE SAREE , MUDDLING IT WITH THE BLACKENED TURQUOISE OF THE WATER FROM WHENCE YOU CAME ; BRILLIANT SMILES FLASHING CHESHIRE - WHITE IN THE NIGHT SKY , SO BRILLIANT THAT ONE MIGHT BE FOOLED INTO BELIEVING YOU FELL FROM A CONSTELLATION INSTEAD OF RISING FROM THE MUD ; THE BLINDING NOSTALGIA THAT SOMETIMES GLINTS FROM THE FRACTURED GLASS OF AN ABANDONED BUILDING YOU ONCE GLEANED MEMORIES WITHIN ; THE DULL LIGHT OF A PRAYER CANDLE WITH A SILHOUETTE KNEELING BEFORE IT , THE COLOURED PIGMENTS UPON YOUR ARMS MOVING IN CLEAR RAPTURE AT BEING HEARD , that flood the minds they touch. some may even say that they are LUMINOUS and ENDEARING, but it matters little that they are tied by a sorcerer’s contract — they remain unabashedly CONCEITED and SELF - DESTRUCTIVE. beware, for demons are never truly kind.

𝙱𝙰𝚂𝙸𝙲𝚂.

full name: navuluri ; 'given name' has not been given.

nickname: loori.

age: 300 / 33.

birthday: sometime during the month of november.

zodiac sun sign: scorpio cusp.

gender + pronouns: agender + they / she.

orientation: demisexual.

birthplace: the depths of the nether-world found in the sea.

languages: their language morphs into yours.

accent: their accent morphs into yours.

occupation: in contractual obligation to CADENCE BROOKINGS.

𝙳𝙴𝚃𝙰𝙸𝙻𝚂.

piercings: septum / lobe.

tattoos: intricate, art-deco henna up the arms that never removes itself.

mbti: esfp, the entertainer.

moral alignment: lawful evil.

+ luminous, endearing, engaging.

- conceited, self-destructive, scheming.

khemia: unknown, ancient.

𝙱𝙰𝙲𝙺𝙶𝚁𝙾𝚄𝙽𝙳. ( cw body horror )

you stretch. you elongate. you are bones clicking into place from something like a disposed god left on the ocean floor. ships pass over you into the night, the depths of your ache to be near something human drawing them down to your grave. this is not a grave. this is not a tomb. it is for them, but for you, it is a home. where else are you supposed to dwell? in places where the sand is not thick & the mud dare not slide? such things should be beneath you, but you crave feet to walk upon the shoreline. something to sprout from the black nothingness that encompasses this sorry excuse for a body. you hate it. you wish to crack its spine & outgrow it.

you never asked to be born into this shape. it is the last shape you wish to wear. it shouldn't be hard to resist doing something terrible, but doing terrible things has come to you second-nature. where else would you wander if not further within? it is a long & perilous repetition of days until you are summoned. until there is some kind of snap of khemia, someone who wishes to be as ancient & empty as you. as you appear, you turn into precisely what they need: someone vibrant, full of life, a sparkle-pink in the depths of your black eyes. you might look like someone they once lost & loved & lost again. that isn't going to be any of your concern.

walking amongst those whom you now look like, you are giddy. could this be that elusive construct of home you heard the sailors yearn for? wishes granted at the prickling of your fingertips, you are infused by the strength of the bond that you've formed. you are aware it is as much of a cage to you & you are both rattling around the bars. that's boring; that's droll. it's painful to think about. you do not wish for any more pain, but for mischief & intrigue. you cannot understand why there is so much fear of you when you sincerely want to help. are your methods too terrible for them to comprehend? you're trying so hard, you swear it. you swear.

everything you learn, you learn from mimicry. you can become any person's reflection, but this is the one you have chosen. perhaps her shape is one that she, too, left behind, stretched her soul out of & let the darkness swallow it where the lighthouse couldn't reach. sometimes, you must live in the cracks. sometimes, you want to tear your human body open & ask where it came from; sometimes she is not large enough to house you. but you also must live with your consequences. is it not part of being human? so is the irresistible urge to drag others down with you. the fight remains internal. you will never let anybody see those depths.

#verum.intro #𝗡𝗔𝗩𝗨𝗟𝗨𝗥𝗜. / dossier.

2 notes · View notes

fangirlshrewt97 · 2 years

Text

Tale As Old As Time... (Part 6)

After a lot of self inspection I have stumbled upon the realization that this is my fic, and that means I am the only one who knows where this story is going/meant to be going/ and what is needed to advance the plot vs being buffer scenes that just let us live with the characters. I like writing the buffer scenes. So. Just keep that in mind 😅😂😅😂😅😂

And I know you guys are enjoying the story because the reaction is still blowing me away. I have also finally stopped being lazy and crossposted the story to Ao3.

I want to also link to two! more pieces inspired by the story. We have two art pieces, one from our ever dependable @burningsheepcrown (found here) and another gorgeous scene from @stuckyandlarrystuff (found here). Not to mention @ssabriel posted a timelapse of her creating her piece that blows my mind (found here).

Ao3 link

(Previous Chapter) (Next chapter)

///

Despite sunset still being a few hours away the sound of drums was permeating the air. Bhairava stood in the balcony, enjoying the faint music that was reaching him. Tapan had said he had work to do in the palace that day so they couldn’t go anywhere that morning, but the King had said Tapan could take Bhairava to the temple festivities. It had been a long time since he had attended a proper temple pooja. He wondered what it would be like. He wondered if he would see the King again. He sighed. It felt like nowadays, every line of thought always ended up at the same place.

Onyx eyes that felt tattooed behind his eyelids.

An energetic knock on his door broke him out of his reverie, and sent him to the door. Tapan’s knocks were loud but only two. And the advisor knocked once as a courtesy before just opening the door. Who could this be?

“Good afternoon my lord! Would you mind moving so I can come in?” came…a female voice behind a large pile of clothes topped by a dangerously swaying chest.

Bhairava quickly moved out of the way. “Can I help?”

“Oh, how sweet, if you could just grab the chest?”

Bhairava immediately gripped the side handles, grunting at the heft of the box.

“Oh, that makes this so much lighter, thank you so much my lord.” the voice said as it bustled into the room, and set the clothes down next to the mirror. Bhairava stood by the door, still holding the chest. “Um.”

“Oh! My lord, you don’t need to stand there, here give it.” the woman said as she grabbed the heavy chest from him, not even grunting at the weight. Bhairava was impressed. She placed the chest next to the clothes before bowing to Bhairava. “Thank you again my lord. My name is Nandhini.”

“Um, you are welcome Nandhini. And please, I am not a lord. You can call me Bhairava.”

Nandhini covered her mouth with a hand. “Oh, I don’t think I could my lord. That would be so inappropriate. You are the King’s guest!”

Is that what the King had said? No, likely this woman had just assumed. Why did that word send a flutter of excitement down his spine though? After the stunt Bhairava had pulled, did the King still think such things of him?

Bhairava sent his kindest smile to Nandhini. “Truly Nandhini. I would much prefer it if you just called me Bhairava.”

The woman flushed. She was pretty, about a head shorter than Bhairava, with black hair stylized into a swirl at the front and a long braid at the back. She wore a simple but beautiful saree of blue and pink, and had a few glass bangles on each arm. She was also wearing gold jhumkas, and had applied some kajal to her eyes, as well as paint to her lips, rendering them a soft pink. In another life, Bhairava might have ended up with someone like her. Not in this one. “If you say so my- uh, I mean Bhairava garu.”

Bhairava lifted his arms in surrender. “Fair enough. Um, so what are all those things?”

Nandhini perked up, her eyes twinkling and her round cheeks becoming rounder as her smile widened. “Oh, this is going to be so exciting Bhairava garu. Apparently you are attending the Shivaratri festivities in the temple right?”

Bhairava nodded tentatively, still not making the connection.

Nandhini tapped her chest proudly. “I am one of the best attendants in the palace Bhairava garu. The King sent me to help you get ready.”

Bhairava’s eyes widened, and his mouth parted. Once again, this was the last thing he could have predicted. How come whenever he thought he might be getting even a step closer to understanding the King or his thoughts something like this happened? “What?”

Nandhini bobbed her head. “Oh, we had all heard that there had been a new guest staying in the palace, but he has been hiding you so far up and away from the rest of you. Unfair really, you are stunning.”

It was Bhairava’s turn to blush, causing Nandhini to coo. “Oh, you look so lovely like that! I may not even need to add anything extra to those cheeks.”

“Cheeks- wait, the King wants you to…what? Paint me like…a woman?” Bhairava asked, feelings conflicting in his chest. His brows furrowed as something…strange coiled in his stomach. He remembered the King saying he may keep Bhairava as a concubine. Remembered the shame that had curled in his gut. But now there was just anxiety…The King had kept away from him ever since that dinner, what was the meaning of all this?

Nandhini laughed. “Of course not, Bhairava garu, who would ever mistake someone like you for a woman, look at those arms, I think your muscles are larger than my head. He sent me to help you dress appropriately. But those eyes of yours…they would be able to kill someone if you let me apply some kajal.”

Nandhini stepped closer, reaching a hand up to cup Bhairava’s cheek. Bhairava flushed deeper and scrambled back. “Nandhini garu!”

Nandhini giggled. “Such a blush. Forgive me Bhairava garu, I couldn’t help myself. If you don’t mind, could you take a bath now? I will give you a special oil for your hair, and um,” she bent to grab a white dhoti and simple sleeveless tunic, along with a stoppered bottle. “wear these. Now shoo.”

Bhairava grabbed the items from her and walked to the bathroom, unsure what else he could do. He washed himself thoroughly, pausing to smell the oil from the stoppered bottle. It had the richest sandalwood scent Bhairava had ever smelled, making his eyes flutter. Pouring a measured handful, he applied it thoroughly into his hair. A now familiar phantom feeling brushing against his fingers. He could feel a stirring beneath his waist that had him jumping out of the water.

Once done, he changed into the clothes Nandhini had given him and stepped back into his room, only to gape at the transformation. In the few minutes Bhairava had been bathing, Nandhini had brought the chair from his desk to sit in front of the mirror. She had also spread out the clothes into neat stacks, and had the wooden chest open. It was filled with all sorts of paints and other accessories Bhairava could not recognize.

At the sound of his entrance, Nandhini whirled around. She clapped her hands. “Wonderful Bhairava garu, come here.”

Bhairava came to her, letting her sit him down on the chair. She had him lean back his head. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her fill a metal bowl at the end of a metal handle with some black rocks and light them. The pleasing scent of sambhrami soon reached his nose, and he felt his muscles loosen. “Nandhini garu, this feels excessive…”

“Oh hush, Bhairava garu. Just let yourself enjoy. Have you every dried your hair with sambhrami before?”

“No.” Bhairava replied.

Nandhini’s reflection grinned at him. “Then close your eyes and let me take care of you.”

Bhairava forced himself to relax, soon truly melting into the chair as Nandhini dried his hair and then massaged his skull. The pleasure was edged with a lick of pain that was delicious. He had to bite the inside of his cheeks to keep from moaning.

“All done.” Nandhini declared after a minute, or an hour. Bhairava could not say. He blinked several times to clear the heaviness away.

“That was… wonderful. Thank you Nandhini garu.” Bhairava said as sincerely as he could.

Nandhini blushed before playfully hitting his shoulder. “All right, no need to charm me Bhairava garu. Let’s get you dressed. Do you have any color preferences?”

Bhairava shook his head.

Nandhini beamed. “Perfect.”

It took a few tries, Nandhini examining each kurta, scarf, and dhoti combination, but eventually she clapped her hands. “This is it. Come Bhairava garu, look at yourself.

They had settled on a golden colored sleeveless kurta that was stitched with complicated swirling patterns in golden thread. A sindhoor red scarf was tied in a wide sash around his waist, with matching sindhoor red dhoti. For his turban, Nandhini showed him a golden colored cloth with red stars stitched into it, which shined when the light hit it right.

“Ok, clothes done. Face and hair. Please, Bhairava garu, let me paint your face!” Nandhini asked, adding in a pout for extra effect.

Bhairava hesitated. “Nandhini garu, the perfume and the clothes are one thing. But I am a simple soldier. I have no need for all these things. Even what you have already given me feels too much.”

Nandhini’s pout deepened. “Bhairava garu, the entire palace has been buzzing about you for the past forever it feels like. Everyone is curious. And even if you aren’t at his side, you are still the King’s guest. And no one knows a single thing about you.

Besides, he specifically asked that I be sent to help you. If you don’t let me dress you, then the King might think I have not done my job.”

Bhairava’s eyes widened. “No, Nandhini garu, I don’t want to cause you any trouble.”

Nandhini gave him a soft smile. “You are sweet. I promise I won’t do anything heavy or over the top, your face is beautiful as is. I am just going to …bring out its beauty even more.”

Bhairava blushed, before nodding. “Alright.”

“And if at the end, you don’t like it, we can wash it off and try again.”

Bhairava sighed in relief. “Thank you.”

Nandhini pinched his cheek, making him complain. “Nandhini garu!”

Nandhini just giggled. “Come now, turn around. I don’t want you getting a glance of my work before I finish.”

Obediently, Bhairava turned the chair.

He sighed when Nandhini brought a comb and ran it through his hair, eyes falling shut. “Would…would Maharaj punish you if he thought you hadn’t fulfilled his orders?”

The comb stopped for a heartbeat before continuing. “No. For all that he looks scary, he is a good Maharaj. Fair. He would probably not send me to help you get ready again though, and that would be a punishment.”

“I-,” Bhairava hesitated, before deciding he had nothing to lose, not really. “Can you tell me more about him? You’re the first person who has really spoken to me besides Maharaj’s advisor.”

“Kaaka garu? Oh that man is such a stickler for his rules, he is far scarier to face to be honest. The King might be temporarily angry, but he has so many responsibilities he doesn’t always remember our faces. But Kaaka garu remembers everyone and everything. He knows about everything that happens in the palace. He once yelled at a servant boy because he found out the kid had been shorting the sheets in the bedroom of this one truly terrible minister. It was scary. The King didn’t let Kaaka to fire him though.” Nandhini finished in a stage whisper that had Bhairava huffing a laugh. “I can imagine that he wouldn’t say anything. He is very protective of Maharaj.”

“You…you said he is a good Maharaj?”

Nandhini hummed happily. “The best. He always tries his best to make things better for the less fortunate. Before he was crowned, Masa Shivaratris were celebrated quietly at home, and the temple would do a bigger pooja than normal, but nothing like the festivities we do now. Before, people were too scared to leave their homes.

He’s so shy though, or quiet I guess. He never says anything longer than a sentence or a few words to any of us.”

“Before…”

“I-,” Nandhini finished combing through his hair. “I’m sorry Bhairava garu, I do not know what I can share with you about the past. I will say it was not a happy time, and Raavana Maharaj has been a blessing to us.”

The enigma continued to grow.

“What about you Bhairava garu, what is your story? How did you come here?”

Bhairava laughed. “I have no idea Nandhini garu.”

Nandhini paused where she was rubbing oil into Bhairava’s hair. “What do you mean?”

Which was how Bhairava found himself spilling his story to this kind stranger. Nandhini came to sit at his feet, taking his hands and rubbing them for comfort.

“I have no idea what I am doing here. Or what the King wants with me. I volunteered to stay because I wanted to keep my people safe from the tyrant king. But every single thing I have learned about your Maharaj, I don’t understand. I don’t know what to think.” At the end of his tale, Bhairava stared at his hands. Nandhini didn’t say anything for a few minutes before she got up. She rummaged through the wooden chest till she retrieved a small pouch. She combed through Bhairava’s hair once with her fingers.

“You know Bhairava garu, servants gossip. It is a terrible habit, but it is inevitable.”

“Um…” Bhairava was confused as to where she was going with this.

“It’s…no one says anything. It is not our place, and it is not looking to be causing any harm. But Maharaj…he does not have any…lovers. There have been rumors, he sometimes takes a bedwarmer for a night or two. I think the longest lasted a week. But in general he is so busy, he goes to bed alone. It used to astound all the girls. We were so used to being pawed and leered at, but here was a man who could do anything he wanted and we wouldn’t be able to say anything. But he never did. Not a single girl. Or boy.” Nandhini explained. “After everything he has done for us, we would like to see Maharaj happy. When we heard a princess was at the palace, we all thought Maharaj would finally be getting married. Clearly that was an incorrect rumor.”

Bhairava swallowed, the information causing a foreign feeling to fill his chest. His brain conjured blurred bodies, male and female, in a bed, with the King on top of them. Running his broad hands down their sides. Weaving his hand into their hair. He wondered if they still felt his phantom touch. He wondered if he had been rough, or gentle. A shiver ran through his body as the memory of a finger caressing his face came to him.

A phantom feeling of broader fingers in his hair made his scalp itch. He shook his head trying to clear his head.

“Bhairava garu!” Nandhini complained when Bhairava dislodged her hands in his movement.

Bhairava winced. “Sorry Nandhini garu.”

Nandhini exhaled dramatically. “No it’s alright. I was thinking I could do a half turban? It would leave part of your hair exposed. Is that alright?”

“I trust you.” Bhairava said.

She bumped the front of his nose, making him go cross eyed. “Right answer.”

Bhairava shook his head in amusement as she spilled the contents of the bag onto her palm. They were tiny red pieces of glass, glinting just like his ruby pendant.

“What are those for?”

“Decoration.” Nandhini said before she set about methodically weaving them into his hair. She used half a handful of stones before grabbing the turban and wrapping it around his head. She threw the excess length over his shoulder.

“Have you ever worn kajal?”

“Not since I was a child.”

Nandhini smirked. “Tilt your head back.”

Bhairava obeyed, focusing on the red of the ceiling. “So…the king…has a preference for both women and men.”

“He has a preference for paperwork. I mean, for all he has shown he would never do it, there is no shortage of girls here who wouldn’t mind sharing his bed. Can’t say I blame them, have you seen the man?”

Bhairava swallowed. He had.

“Not you?”

Another pause in her movements, lasting barely a blink of an eye. “A story for another time. But no. I don’t want to share his bed. I do want to see him find who makes him smile though. He always looks so angry, and he doesn’t exactly have friends, outside of Kaaka garu. And his family, I suppose. I wonder… it must be lonely no? Being at the top of the world with no one to share all that with?”

Bhairava felt a familiar ache in his own chest. He wondered about the King’s family. Were his parents still there? Since his parents died, it had been just him. His Babai had made sure he reached the army and became a good soldier, but he had been alone for a long time. Until Mithravinda. Even with all the good friends he had made among the soldiers, he hadn’t had any he could share his heart and dreams with. Did the King ever feel like he was alone even when surrounded by a crowd? Being King… it was dangerous to let anyone get close, always being suspicious of others’ intentions. Bhairava shut his eyes. Could the King truly have been looking for a friend? Had Bhairava ruined those chances by holding a knife to him? He felt despair clouding his mind.

“What about you Bhairava garu? Any other hearts you broke besides that princess’s?”

Bhairava blushed. “Can’t say so.”

“Come on, you expect me to believe a handsome man like you did not have people constantly throwing themselves at you?”

“I-,” in truth, Bhairava had not been looking for it, and so hadn’t noticed something that may have been waving in his face. “I was so focused on moving up the ranks and becoming a better soldier. I didn’t really think about it.”

“Have you…forgive me that would be too much.” Nandhini said, a flush taking over her face as she fiddled with some boxes from the chest.

“No, it’s alright. Ask me.”

“Have you ever shared someone’s bed at all?”

Bhairava blushed, a hazy memory of a few nights spent in a drunken haze with blurry faces and morning regrets. They hadn’t been bad, he just hadn’t felt…whatever he was supposed to feel. It had made him wonder if there was some part of him was broken. He had even managed to tumble a man once, just the once. It had felt slightly better, more awkward, but still the same overall dissatisfaction. It had helped relieve some tension, but Bhairava could not understand why sex could lead to so much strife and heart ache.

“Right, that answers that.” Nandhini said knowingly.

Bhairava blushed deeper.

“If you can keep that blush the whole night, I’d say we are done with the face. Devuda, please Bhairava garu, consider wearing kajal more often. It looks so beautiful on you.” Bhairava smiled bashfully, ducking his head. “Just the jewellery left.”

Bhairava tried to protest, but Nandhini silenced him with a glare. He sat quietly as she loaded his arms with bangles, gold and diamond and even a red glass pair, slid an armlet up his bicep. She switched his customary bronze hoop earrings for golden balls lined with rubies.

She tried to remove the ruby necklace but Bhairava wrapped his hand around it. Over the few weeks, the necklace have become a source of comfort. He didn’t want to part with it. She had conceded, saying the ruby matched his outfit. She also placed a longer golden chain and a shorter gold necklace that hung close to this throat.

“And now the last piece…” Nandhini muttered as she went through various pouches and boxes. Bhairava was feeling overwhelmed, and like a dressed up doll. He felt ridiculous, but looking at his muscled arm encircled by the fragile gold armlet, his thick fingers decorated with thin rings. They made him feel…dainty. He…felt his heart beat faster at the thought.

“Aha!” Nandhini exclaimed, making Bhairava look at her. She came to kneel at his feet. “These are beautiful Bhairava garu.”

She removed a pair of thick anklets, at least three fingers in width. There were two thin bands bordering a thick central one. The anklets themselves were gold, but the center band was circled with blood red rubies cut into the shape of six-pointed stars, with small diamonds in between each flower. The two thin borders were a pattern of alternating diamonds and rubies. From the lower most band thin chains of gold hung to reach his feet. Bhairava gasped. “Nandhini garu! That… that is meant for princes! Not for me!”

Nandhini gave him a soft smile. “I’m afraid this piece is non-negotiable Bhairava garu. Maharaj gave it to me specifically saying they were for you.”

Bhairava’s chest was aching with how hard his heart was pounding against his chest. He gripped tight at the sides of his chair as Nandhini lifted his dhoti enough to clasp the anklets. The image of the royal jewellery against his foot sent another shiver racing down his spine.

“Ready to see the final product?”

No. Suddenly Bhairava was not prepared. Ever since she had started putting the jewellery on a weird feeling had been blooming in his chest. He was not sure about this. “Nandhini garu, I don’t…I must look ridiculous.”

Nandhini scoffed. “I would never let you look ridiculous. Please trust me, you are looking…ethereal.”

Bhairava’s anxiety must have shown on his face because Nandhini bit her lip. She moved behind him and covered his eyes, helping him stand up. “Turn with me.”

Bhairava turned till she stopped him. “Ok, 3…2…1.”

She removed her hands, and Bhairava forced his eyes open. He gasped at his reflection. The clothes seemed to somehow glow against his skin. The jewels all shone like stars, with the ruby pendant drawing all the attention, as the gold surrounding it made the red seem that much darker. The turban’s half open style left his hair visible with the glass pieces Nandhini had weaved in appearing like red stars against a black sky. He moved closer to inspect his face. The kajal really had made his eyes seem twice their size. He lifted his dhoti with trembling fingers to see those anklets making his feet look like they belonged to a dancer. Not to a soldier. His heart ached for something.

“So… what do you think?”

What did Bhairava think? He had never worn so much wealth, had barely seen so much. And…he looked beautiful. Not handsome. He still looked like a man, but this man, he felt royal. Felt like a stranger. One Bhairava was so curious to know.

“I…I don’t think I have ever looked so…”

“Gorgeous.”

Bhairava flushed again. “You are a terrible woman.”

Nandhini smiled at him, pinching his arm. “Only to people who blush as prettily as you.”

A knock at the door. Two steady beats.

Bhairava opened it, allowing Tapan to step in.

“Bhairava garu all set…Nandhini garu!” Tapan stuttered as he froze at the sight of the woman in Bhairava’s room. Bhairava looked at him curiously.

“Ta-Tapan garu? What are you doing here?” Nandhini asked, a blush painting her cheeks. Bhairava squinted at her.

“I …was asked by Maharaj to escort Bhairava garu to the temple festivities.”

“Oh, I was asked by him to help Bhairava dress.”

“Yes, he looks really good.”

Bhairava raised an eyebrow. “You haven’t even looked at him.”

Tapan blushed as he looked pleadingly at Bhairava, who crossed his arms across his chest, pressing his lips together to stop from smiling.

Bhairava cleared his throat. “Nandhini did a wonderful job.”

Nandhini bowed in his direction. “Thank you for your patient Bhairava garu. And your cooperation.”

Bhairava tilted his head.

“Do you…do you need help packing?” Tapan asked nervously.

Nandhini’s brows furrowed. “Aren’t you supposed to take Bhairava to the festivities? They will start soon, you should leave right away.”

“Right. Right of course.” Tapan said. “You um. That color suits you Nandhini garu.”

Nandhini averted her eyes but couldn’t hide her pleased smile. “You look quite handsome yourself Tapan garu.”

Tapan looked stunned, and as amusing as this was, Bhairava was very curious about the festivities. He also wanted to get away from the mirror that was reflecting a stranger back at him.

“Tapan garu…can we go?”

“Oh! Yes of course. This way. Both men left, Tapan glancing back twice over his shoulder. When Bhairava looked at him in amusement he looked sheepish.

Bhairava jostled his shoulder. “She is a beautiful woman. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“She is, isn’t she?” Tapan said, eyes half glazing over. Bhairava worried for a second whether they’d make it to the festivities on time, but didn’t comment. Young love always blossomed into the sweetest flowers.

As he walked he tried not to focus on how each step caused the delicate chains of the anklets to tickle his feet.

///

Feedback is appreciated.

Tagging (Please please work, Tumblr I beg you): @rambheem-is-real @budugu @bromance-minus-the-b @junebugyeahhh @hissterical-nyaan @obsessedtoafault @hufhkbgg @yehsahihai @rorapostsbl @bluesolace1 @fadedscarlets @alikokinav @chaotic-moonlight @rambheemisgoated @rambheemlove @jaganmaya @burningsheepcrown @lovingperfectionwonderland @rosayounan @iam-siriuslysher-lokid @thewinchestergirl1208 @dumdaradumdaradum @ronaldofandom @jjwolfesworld @jrntrtitties @kashpaymentsonly @jeonmahi1864 @zackcrazyvalentine @stanleykubricks @m3gs1mps4a @tulodiscord @teddybat24 @sally-for-sally @ssabriel @jadebomani @stuckyandlarrystuff @veteran-fanperson @ohfuckoffpls

#rrr #jai lava kusa #jai kumar #jai x bhairava #bhairava #kala bhairava #magadheera #my fic #my writing #TAOAT

56 notes · View notes

iftitah · 6 months

Note

black or pink saree choose farewell

if you have pics send because

4 notes · View notes

sirfdabba · 4 months

Text

Today I walked through the alleys of my hometown. I wanted to have a particular type of biscuits and not the ones which were available in the Kitchen. Thus I walked down to this small shop located a few steps away from my house. But the shop was closed. I was going to return back but then the Aajis who sit in the temple, singing their bhajan, called me. Its been a while since I talked to them. The Temple has changed a lot, they renovated it when I was in 12th grade but I was too busy back then preparing for CLAT, studying for boards that I never sat in the renovated temple. The temple was never a religious place for me you know, rather it was a Sunday picnic spot. A dongar-ka-paani, khaamb khaamb, kaanda phod, lappa chappi, mini lingorcha, playground. It was the place where I used to wait for my Rickshaw at 6:30 am on the wintry mornings, wear saree draped out of a chunri and get married to that one boy whose name I have forgotten, do the Taewondo thingy and spread rumors that I have enough power and skill to kill everybody in the town.

It was the place where I ate the offerrings offered to the deities and never felt bad. I talked to those idols while the Dogs barked and Sun took time to rise, I played with religion while the elders prayed (sometimes begged) their hearts out to that black, adorable tortoise. I was obsessed with the Temple's bell you know, was way too short, thus couldnt ring it with my bare hands. But I had found a stick of perfect length using which, the little Sau used to play with the bell while singing songs ranging from Chikni Chameli to Jana Gana Mana (Indeed, all with beautifully distorted lyrics). I am obsessed with flowers ever since I was a child. On weekends, waking up, collecting flowers from the nooks and corners of Sandesh colony, and making a gajra, and two maalas - one for the Saibaba at home and one for all the gods in the temple, was an integral part of my life. The 19 year old Sau says, she is non-religious, the 9 year old didnt know what does religious actually mean, but both of them would wholly agree to the fact that, some way or the other they both subscribe to the religion of flowers. Sometimes, when I liked the flowers that were offered to the Idols, I used to do a trade-off. I would keep my ordinary flower with them and take their rose or sonchafa or pink hibiscus. When anyone would scold me for doing it, I would, quite emohatically say, say, that, "Its between me and god." (Actually, that was the answer that Mumma told me to give to the hecklers. She has always been the best, I know)

Today, with anxiety medicines awaiting me in my pencil box, I thought to myself, " Ohh what an irreplaceable entity this temple has been!" After talking to those Aajis, I changed my mind and walked a few more steps to buy "Top biscuits." I was wearing a woollen knitted sweater and capri night pant, a kind of costume which I would never go out in, anywhere else on the face of earth. I have been wearing that pant ever since I was in tenth grade. I studied for boards, CLAT and now IPC in the very same piece of cloth. Sometimes I seriously wonder, have I stopped growing or what? Is tgis what "stagnancy" feel like. What if I am stuck in a puddle and now, unaware, unconcious, I have made it my world. But then, I this Uncle, who had pulled me up while I had fallen down while driving my purple scooty pept for the first time in my life, which gave me a smidgen of hope that I can at least drive a scooty without falling down forty times in a ride. I convinced myself that I am growing, slower than a balloon maybe, or ecen a cloud, but yes not stagnant yet.

While walking down that street, I could vividly see my childhood running like an animated movie infront of my eyes. Ohh I was a ruckus, a commotion back then. What all did I not do. All the streets, all the corners of those streets, all the houses on those streets and all the people who lived in those houses, knew my name. They kind of hated me. Not their fault, I was an unbearably notorious, an intractable child. How streets change, I thought. The place where there was a cherry tree, now holds within its bosom a two storeyed bunglow. I wondered, does that piece of land ever miss that Tree? Does it remember that I used to spend so much time finding a "good cherry" back in my salad days? I am a self-absorbed person, I thought. Does that land like that Bunglow? If given a choice, what would the land pick: Cherry tree or the Bunglow?

My biscuit excursion made me wonder, how arcane yet how simple it is that, no matter what, nobody stops. Actually, no body can afford to stop. Everyone is evolving, everyone has to evolve, evolution is not a choice. The choice to stay the same is also a kind of an evolution, if you think about it. Even the streets, even the electricity poles, everything had changed. Not holistically, of course (I mean they havent started painting it saffron as of now, might happen very soon but yeah), still everything bore a tinge of change to itself. I noticed how have repainted the "Danger" sign on the main electricity pole. While walking down from Tuition, I used to reread that "Khatra" written below a skull and two bones, everyday. I learned to read the term "Khatra" from that poll only. The cornermost flat, on the ground floor, of Chaitanya Apartments has made a compound, have installed a gate you know. It made me wonder, now where would all the street dogs sleep on the hot, sweltering afternoons. They even rebuilt the half-broken edges of the public waste bin on the way to my Tuition.

All that I observed, all that my approximately blind eyes could point out, stirred something inside. I was seeing something beyond those physical structures. All the abstractness that came back to me, while I walked down a half-dug, non-concerete, uneven rocky street, was not memories, neither nostalgia; rather it was a realization. Realization, that how, stopping and staring is possibly the most important thing to do, perhaps more important than inhaling and exhaling the polluted air, that a life is a wasted life where one didnt stop and aimlessly stared.

#desi academia #dark academia quotes #tumblr #life #love #desi aesthetic #dark acadamia aesthetic #deep quotes #heartache #cinema

3 notes · View notes