Sheesh Mahal,

As the days slowly turned into weeks, the once cheerful home felt the weight of silence and unspoken words. Samaya had gone to her parent's home taking Daruk along with her, not wanting to stay for a second more here. Avinash found solace in the hours spent at work, hoping each day to mend the bridge between him and Samaya. His efforts, however, seemed like whispers lost in the wind, as Samaya, wounded and betrayed, found strength in the solace of her childhood home, surrounded by the love and support of her parents.

Leaving Dhruv in the care of Ratna.

He shouldn't miss his classes when he already did because of their visit to his grandparent's place.

In her absence, the care of young Dhruv fell upon Ratna's capable shoulders. With a nod of understanding and a promise unspoken, Ratna became the guardian of Dhruv other than being his Badi Maa, her assurances a gentle balm to Samaya's troubled form.

Subadhra Mallik was away on a factory inspection. She was due to return in two days, her thoughts already on the tasks that awaited her.

"Understood, Ma-ji," Ratna acknowledged Subadhra's instructions with a nod, her voice steady and assured. "The arrangements will be taken care of," she affirmed, her response echoing the resolve to ensure that everything would be in place upon Subadhra's return.

Subadhra's voice echoed in her cottage room as she inquired over the phone about her younger daughter-in-law. "What about Samaya? Did she say when will she come back?" She asked the same question she had been asking. The sternness in her voice was palpable, even as it carried a hint of frustration.

"She isn't sure, Ma-ji," came Ratna's gentle reply, her words a soft cushion for the uncertainty that lay ahead.

Subadhra's frustration bubbled to the surface, her words sharp as knives. "If it goes on like this, Mallik's reputation will go downhill." She paced her cottage room, each step a testament to her growing anger. Memories of accusations and disrespect from Samaya's father flashed in her mind, fueling her ire.

Yet, Ratna's voice was like a balm, understanding and empathetic of Samaya. "Samaya might need more time, Ma-ji," she offered, her tone full of understanding.

But Subadhra was not to be swayed. "I have work, I need to go. Just make arrangements for what I said." The finality in her voice was clear as she ended the call, leaving Ratna with a sigh and a silent phone.

Sheesh Mahal now whispered with the secrets of a storm that had passed, leaving in its wake a silence that spoke volumes. The children, blissfully unaware, continued to find solace in their school, games, and laughter, their joy a stark contrast to the bitter reality that enveloped the adults.

Except for Anjali, who was still reeling from the shock of her uncle's actions. Her young heart was burdened by a truth too heavy to bear, and she found herself grappling with the reality of her uncle's betrayal. In the quiet corners of her mind, she sent forth silent prayers, hoping for a resolution to the turmoil that had besieged her family.

As the days passed, Anjali became the keeper of secrets, shielding her brother and little cousins from the tempest that had shaken the very foundations of their home. With each passing day, she wished for peace to return, for the storm clouds to part, and for the sun to shine upon them once more, bringing with it a promise of healing and happier days.

The only things that brought her solace were her brothers and her new little friends, Khushi and Payal. Khushi, especially, had become a daily source of entertainment, often engaging in fierce battles with Anjali's brother, Arnav.

A day later,

That morning, as they all sat together after playing on one Sunday, Arnav turned to Anjali with a curious expression. "Di, what do you think Khushi is doing in our kitchen?" he asked, his eyes sparkling with suspicion.

Anjali, who was sitting on the couch, looked up from her book and raised an eyebrow. "Chotte, if you're so eager to know, why don't you go to the kitchen and check?" she chided him, a hint of amusement in her voice.

Arnav scowled, crossing his arms over his chest. "No way," he exclaimed. Khushi and he had a fight just a few minutes ago. He's not talking to her.

Anjali chuckled and shook her head, remembering the countless times Khushi had managed to get under Arnav's skin, just like today.

The morning match had taken a turn; the badminton court became an arena of wit and wills. The shuttlecock, a disputed envoy, had landed — questionably — on the boundary line, just a little beyond it if one could say.

"You're out," He stated emphatically as if his words were the final verdict on the matter.

Her comeback was just as passionate, her posture as unyielding as her declaration. "What! Aise kaise out? I'm still in," she argued, her eyes widening to match the intensity of her challenge.

He gestured towards the shuttlecock, its position a silent witness to their debate. "Khushi, did you see that poor shuttlecock lying just beyond the boundary line? What else would you call it then?"

"See it isn't completely out," she argued, her eyes narrowing as she pointed to the object of their contention, its feathers touching the boundary line.

His grin spread subtly, a quiet chuckle in its arc. "Just for your information, Khushi, even the slightest one counts as 'out'," he expressed, his voice tinged with a teasing smugness.

"No way, you're cheating. I am not out," she accused, her voice full of anger and irritation at what Gardener was saying.

The back-and-forth between them was as swift and sharp as the rallies in their game. Dhruv and Anjali remained mere spectators, wisely choosing to stay out of the fray, knowing all too well the consequences of getting caught in the crossfire.

"Yes, you are," Arnav gritted his teeth.

"No, I am not," she shot back, quick as a flash.

"You are, Khushi."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

The courtyard resonated with their banter, each 'no' and 'yes' bouncing back and forth like a shuttlecock in flight.

It was Ratna's timely invitation for a juice break that interrupted the ongoing tug-of-war of yes and no between them, providing a much-needed pause to their debate over who would ultimately win. Relieving Dhruv and Anjali from the torture. 

With a huff of frustration, Khushi trailed behind Dhruv and Anjali, her mood as stormy as the sky before a downpour. Arnav, mirroring her annoyance, followed suit with a scowl etched on his face.

As they settled indoors, Khushi's curiosity was piqued smelling butter from the kitchen, and she couldn't help but inquire, "Aunty, what are you making?"

Ratna's response was tender. "Do you want to see, beta?" she asked, her hand affectionately stroking Khushi's hair as the young girl sipped her juice.

Eager for a distraction, Khushi nodded enthusiastically, her eyes alight with interest. Ratna, with a knowing smile, led her further inside, while Arnav, unable to resist a display of his exasperation, rolled his eyes at the unfolding domestic scene.

'Mom could very well whisk Khushi away from Uncle Shashi and Aunt Garima to have her stay with them forever!' he thought and as soon as such a thought came, he dismissed it with a shudder. The mere idea of enduring the ear-splitting chaos and mind-bending mayhem that would ensue was enough to make him pray for divine intervention.

Yet, he couldn't help but acknowledge the irony that his daily life already seemed exactly the same.

Kitchen,

Khushi held up a piece of dough, its edges imperfect but earnestly crafted. The shape was whimsical, a testament to her creativity and the joy she found in the process. "Is this shape okay?" she asked, her voice tinged with hope and a desire for approval.

Ratna looked over, her eyes softening at the sight of Khushi's expectant face, framed by a too-large chef's hat that slipped over her eyebrows. "It's amazing, beta," she responded warmly, her words not just a mere compliment but an encouragement for the young girl's efforts.

As Khushi continued to mold the dough, her small fingers worked diligently, trying to perfect the roundness of each cookie. Ratna watched, a sense of adoration swelling in her chest as she prepared the tray, laying out each of Khushi's creations with care.

Once the cookies were neatly arranged, Ratna guided Khushi's hands, helping her place the tray into the oven.

Khushi's eyes were wide with wonder as she peered into the oven. The kitchen was warm, filled with the sweet aroma of baking dough and a hint of vanilla essence that Khushi had insisted on adding.

"Aunty, what do we do after this?" Khushi's voice was a mix of curiosity and impatience, her small hands pressed against the cool countertop.

Ratna turned from where she was arranging the next batch of cookie dough, her smile gentle and reassuring. "Just set the temperature, sweety," she instructed, her tone soft yet encouraging.

With a nod, Khushi reached up to twist the oven's dial, her tongue poking out slightly in concentration. The click of the knob was a promise of the treats to come. "Yayyy," she cheered, her small hands coming together in a clap that echoed lightly against the tiled walls. Her excitement was infectious, and Ratna found herself chuckling, the sound mingling with the quiet hum of the oven.

Together, they waited, the minutes ticking by as the cookies turned golden brown, ready to be gobbled down by the little Khushi.

Dining Hall,

The dining table had a tray of cookies, each cookie a unique shape that Arnav couldn't help but compare to the contours of various countries, they could give Google Maps a run for its money, seriously!

His frown was one of playful skepticism as he questioned, "Mom, why are these cookies looking like different country maps?"

Khushi, who had just emerged with a water bottle, stopped in her tracks. Her reaction was immediate and exaggerated, a mix of outrage and shock, typical 3 O's forming on her little face. "Hawww! You insulted my cookies?" she exclaimed, her voice rising in an accusation.

Arnav's gaze shifted between Khushi and the cookies, a chuckle escaping him as he realized who the baker was. "You made them?" he asked, his laughter evident. "Khushi, I think you should start your own mapping company. These cookies are so uniquely shaped, I'm starting to think you're trying to create a new continent. 'Khushiland' or 'Koocchhhiiiiland', hai na?"

"Oh, here we go again," Anjali muttered under her breath, though her words went unnoticed by the others.

It seemed as though their earlier quarrel had slipped their minds, only to be replaced by the spark of a fresh argument.

Khushi's response was swift, her complaint directed towards Ratna as she sought refuge in the familiar folds of Ratna's saree. "Aunty. Aunty. Dekho na, he's teasing me," she said, her voice muffled by the fabric, her face forming a sad, pouty expression that had become her signature move whenever she tattled on Arnav.

Arnav watched the scene, his amusement clear despite his exasperation. It was a routine that was almost tiring, yet undeniably cute?

No way!

His eyebrow arched in his characteristic manner, a silent, "Like seriously?"

Ratna's voice was firm yet affectionate as she addressed Arnav, her hand gently patting Khushi's head in a comforting gesture. "Chotte," she said, a soft reprimand in her tone.

Arnav's response was a resigned sigh. With a playful glint in his eye just a second later, he turned to Anjali and Dhruv, who were happily nibbling on their cookies, not caring about their unconventional shapes. "I tell you guys. Instead of eating them, paste them on the walls. When you study social studies, it will be too easy to remember the countries," he suggested, his voice laced with mirth.

Khushi's reaction was immediate; her nostrils flared, a clear sign of her brewing indignation. This Gardener is climbing on horses. She thought, her resolve hardening. She'll show him.

With a volume that filled the room, Khushi called out, "Annav!" She loudly called out for him.

"Don't call me that," Arnav snapped, teasing and all gone from his voice. He doesn't like this name at all. And from the time she heard Daruk calling him Annav while they played, she'd been teasing him with the name.

Undeterred, Khushi repeated the name, each utterance a taunt, her tongue sticking out in a childish gesture of defiance. "Annav. Annav. Annav."

Arnav rose from his chair, his movements a clear indication of his predatory steps. He reached for the book beside her, his sixth-grade notebook that had become her lifeline for tomorrow's test. Her absence due to her ankle injury and fever had left her scrambling for notes, she forgot to ask her friends and her sister was of no help because of the different syllabus in the previous school. She had to turn to him for help. Since he had the book, he gave it to her.

"Arnavvv," Khushi protested as she stretched out her arms for the book, frowning at him.

"Do you want this book?" Arnav raised his eyebrow, holding it just out of reach.

"Yes," Khushi nodded earnestly, her eyes fixed on the only aid for her impending exam.

"Then promise me, no more 'Annav'. It's Arnav, or you don't get the book. Deal?" he bargained, his eyes glaring at her.

"Okay," Khushi agreed too quickly, her eagerness betraying her. Arnav doubted her quickness yet handed the book to her, the book was hers once more.

But as she ran away, her grin wide, she couldn't resist the temptation. "Annie. Annie," she chanted gleefully, her laughter trailing behind her.

"Khushi!" he screamed behind her at the new name she had just given him.

Ratna, witnessing the familiar scene, couldn't help but shake her head. This playful chaos had become a daily ritual, a welcome distraction from the weight of her own world. The laughter of the children, their innocent games, and their boundless energy were the balm that soothed her soul amidst the silence of her husband, the harsh words of her mother-in-law, and the tears of Samaya. In their light-hearted banter, Ratna found a momentary escape.

Gupta House,

The Sunday sun streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow on Khushi's determined face. She sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by the notes Arnav gave her, tongue in cheek, her brow furrowed in concentration. The notes from Arnav lay before her, a cryptic puzzle waiting to be solved. She had spent the morning in a flurry of activity in Sheesh Mahal, but now, the quiet focus of study called to her.

With each passing minute, her frustration mounted. The words on the page seemed to dance just out of reach, their meanings obscured by Arnav's hurried scrawl. She leaned in closer, her little eyes tracing the lines, willing understanding to dawn. Yet, the letters remained stubbornly alien, as if they were written in a language only Arnav could speak.

After spending a considerable amount of time straining her eyes and mind trying to decipher the notes, Khushi finally decided to take action. With a voice full of resolve, she called out to her sister, "Jiji, come on, utho, let's go to the medical shop." Her words managed to draw Payal out of the lingering haze of her nap. Payal had accompanied Buaji to the market earlier that morning, and by the time they returned, it was already lunchtime. Exhausted from the morning's activities, Payal had succumbed to a deep sleep. Now, with Khushi's insistence, she tried shaking off the drowsiness that still clung to her.

"Medical shop?" Payal's voice echoed, her voice full of bewilderment and haziness.

"Ha, jiji. Come..." Khushi's insistence was a gentle force as she dragged her sister from the bed.

Informing her Buaji, she swiftly flew across the road ignoring her Buaji's 'Hai Rey Nandakishore'

Their arrival at the medical shop broke the monotony of the afternoon routine. "Uncle-ji. Uncle-ji," Khushi's call was respectful yet filled with an urgency that demanded attention.

The pharmacist, looking down at the little girl, responded, "Yes, beta. Tell me, what do you want?"

Khushi, hopefully, presented her request. "Uncle-ji, I need a little help," she said, her hands carefully unfolding the notebook that held Arnav's handwriting.

"Ha, beta, bolo," the pharmacist encouraged, his curiosity piqued thinking he was going get some prescription with some medicines on it again. After all, that was his job and the two little girls would come with their Buaji-ji a few times.

(Yes, tell me)

Khushi handed over the note jumping slightly to reach the top of the counter with her hopeful eyes. "Uncle-ji, ye dekh ke batayiyana isme kya likha hai," she implored.

(Uncle, can you look at them and tell me what is written there?)

The pharmacy man and Payal stood staring at her in shock, the little drowsiness she had flown out of the city in a moment.

To make him read the notes, she took her to a medical shop disturbing her sleep. Seriously?

The pharmacist leaned forward, his eyes scanning the page, but the words eluded him as if they were will-o'-the-wisps flitting through a dense forest. Payal, her curiosity now fully awakened, peered over the counter, only to be greeted by the visual mess.

Whose handwriting is that? Looking like a 'keede makeedon ka baarat'.

The pharmacist chuckled softly, handing back the note. "I'm sorry, beta, but this is beyond my expertise," he said, his voice tinged with regret for denying the cute little girl.

Khushi's lips quivered into a pout, her disappointment palpable. "Not even a little bit?" she implored, her voice small.

The pharmacist, his heart heavy with the inability to aid the little girl who'd always talk nine to dozens whenever she visited here, could only offer a sympathetic smile. "No, my child," he responded softly.

"It's okay, uncle. Thank you, bye-bye." Khushi offered her goodbye, collected the notebook, and walked away with her sister in tow across the road to reach her home.

Payal quickened her pace to match Khushi's determined stride, a question forming in her mind as she glanced at the troublesome notebook in her sister's grasp. "Khushi, whose notebook is that?" she inquired, her curiosity piqued by the source of Khushi's vexation.

Khushi's response was swift, her nose wrinkling in disdain. "Who else's? That Gardener's," she said, her voice laced with frustration. The audacity of him to hand her such indecipherable notes! What about her test now? 

That Gardener, she will not leave him!

Regards,

Poly,

05/05/2024