As the first rays of dawn filter through the curtains, I shuffle under the covers, my hands reaching for the buzzing alarm, its piercing noise tearing the peaceful quietness of the room. I feel the fresh sunlight shimmering; it sheens warmth, kissing my face lightly.
Slowly, I get up and step out of my wrinkled bed, ruffling the locks of my straight hair. I yank open the shades, filling up the room with an awakening glow of splashes of energy.
Wow, how much I love these beautiful and soothing mornings, but I still prefer night because nights have stars, which I love the most, yes, more than painting too.
Suddenly, I'm thrown off my trail of thoughts as I hear my mother calling from downstairs, "UTH JA MERI MAA subha ke 8 baj gaye hain." 8 AM! IS THERE SOMEONE WHO WAKES UP EVEN AT 8 AM?
(Wake up, sleepyhead!!! It's already 8 AM.)
"MAA MAIN UTH GAYI HOON" I shout from my room so maa can hear me, but maa does not reply—so typical of her.
(I have woken up already.)
After washing up and doing my morning routine, I shuffle through my wardrobe looking for an outfit that would be best for the sunny day outside. But isn't it best to only wear traditional clothes? I mean look at this gorgeous sari! It practically screams 'wear me, Sanvi, please.'
But I control my inner rebel thoughts, and I extract a pair of jeans, a simple pink kurta, and a pair of jhumkas. I hum in satisfaction.
While getting ready, I play 'Jhumka gira re' on my phone, and the room is enveloped in a warm embrace. The melodies dance through the air, painting invisible strokes of nostalgia and joy. I sing along with the song, "Jhumka gira re, Bareilly ke bazaar mein, mera jhumka haaye jhumka."
After dolling up, I comb my hair and make a braid with my naturally straight hair. I wear my sneakers, playing with the laces before finally knotting them up. I pick up my phone, stop the music, and hurry downstairs.
As I move toward the pooja ghar (prayer room), I feel the cool marble under my bare feet. Entering the pooja ghar, I see my grandmother Seena Desai preparing the silver tray for pooja, adorned with flowers, incense sticks, and a small brass bell—the familiar sight.
The diya is lit, and the sacred flame flickers warmly, casting a divine glow around the room. The air is filled with the fragrance of sandalwood incense, creating a serene atmosphere. My grandmother has nearly completed the preparations for the pooja, her movements graceful and assured.
As I take my place beside her, my grandmother calls out to everyone, "Aa jao baccho, pooja shuru hone wali hain."
("Come, children, the prayer is about to begin.")
I hear the rustle of the newspaper as Papa folds it and stands up from the dining table. Soon, both maa and papa gather in the pooja ghar, and I feel a sense of warmth and unity.
Grandmother starts to sing the prayers with her melodious voice. We stand, joining our hands and reciting behind her.
~~~JAI GANESH JAI GANESH JAI GANESH DEVA
The rhythmic clinking of the bell and the melodic chants filled the house with peace and connection. As the pooja concluded, my grandmother turned to us, distributing prasad with a smile, knowing we were blessed and ready to embrace the day together.
After pooja, we moved toward the kitchen. Papa picked up his folded newspaper and sat on his chair, Dadi and I also sat on our seats, and maa moved toward the kitchen to bring chai.
"Saanu, maine teri kitni baar kaha hain ki jaldi utha kar tu, roj roj 9-9 baje uthna," maa started her scolding as she placed the chai and parathas on the dining table.
(Saanu, how many times have I told you to wake up early? You keep waking up at 9 o'clock every day.)
I looked toward Papa to escape from maa's scolding, but I found him already looking at me. I gestured to him to save me from mother's scolding. "Dear, it's the weekend today," Papa mumbled while picking up a piece of paratha from his plate.
But maa instantly shut him down, shooting him a withering glance and speaking again in an angry voice, "Aap bhi koi kam nahi hain. Aap bhi late uth rahe hain. Aap dono ne na mera dimag kharab karke rakha hain." Even Dadi was laughing silently, watching Papa and me getting scolded.
(Even you are not innocent. Both of you have completely driven me crazy.)
"Aare... Aare woh toh main, accha gussa mat karo. Main aaj tumhare sath ghar ke kaam main help kar dunga," said Papa in his gentle tone.
(Oh...ohhh I umm. Okay, don't be angry. Today, I'll help you with the household work.)
Maa looked toward Papa, and her expression softened slightly. Woah, my Papa.
I looked again toward Papa and mouthed 'thanks, Papa.' 'LOVE YOU,' and made a finger heart.
Papa winked toward me and mouthed, "Always, beta. Love you too, beta."
As the morning chaos slowly settled, the household buzzed with the familiar rhythm of daily life, filled with love, laughter, and a little bit of scolding to keep everyone in line.
"MAA, main aaj Kaira ke ghar ja rahi hoon, aaj woh leave par hain," I stood up, informing maa about my departure to Kaira's home. "Thik hain, jaldi wapis aana. Der mat karna," said maa, her voice filled with love and care.
(Mum, I'm going to Kaira's house today. She's on leave today.)
(Okay, come back home quickly and don't be late.)
I said OK and bye, kissed Papa on his cheek, and left my house.
As I sit in my car, the gentle hum of the engine and the gentle sway of the car create a soothing backdrop to my thoughts. As I gaze out at the passing scene, my mind drifts to my family.
Maa and papa adopted me when I was 8 years old. They had no children of their own, and from the moment they brought me into their home, they showered me with love and care. I never felt like an outsider; they made sure I always felt like I belonged.
I remember the countless times maa stayed up late, helping me with school projects and comforting me during nightmares. Her warm hugs and soothing words had a magical way of making everything better.
Papa, papa was my hero, always encouraging me to chase my dreams. He taught me how to ride a bike, attended all my drawing competitions, and cheered the loudest when I performed at the annual day function. His pride in my achievements made me feel like I could conquer the world.
My thoughts drifted to family gatherings, where laughter and joy filled the air. But whenever someone made me feel bad or cry, papa or mama would leave that party, and we would go to the ice cream parlor for an ice cream party.
Despite being adopted, I've never felt any different from a biological child. My parents' unconditional love and acceptance have given me a sense of security. They've always been there for me, guiding me through life's challenges and celebrating my successes. When I showed an interest in art, they enrolled me in art classes, bought me paint and brushes, and proudly displayed my work around the house. Their support made me feel valued and capable of achieving anything I set my mind to.
I sometimes wonder what my life would have been like if I hadn't been adopted by them. I smile, my heart brimming with warmth. I know I am incredibly fortunate to have such wonderful people in my life. They are more than just my second family; they are my true family, and I love them the most.
Suddenly, I am thrown off my trail of thoughts as my phone rings, its melodic ringtone a tranquil rustle. I pick up the phone, which shows the name 'Kairu❤️,' the nickname I gave to Kaira, my best friend.
"Bonjour, Saanu," I hear the groggily voice of my bratty friend. "Bonjour, aaj French, kal Japanese main bolegi haina? Aur tu kya abhi so ke uthi hain, Kaira? 11 baj rahe hain," I say in a shocked voice. I hear her laugh on the other side of the phone.
("Bonjour! Today in French, tomorrow in Japanese, right? And did you just wake up, Kaira? It's 11 AM.")
"Hahaha, Wah, wah, tu meri real friend hain yaar. You know me too well, don't you? But nonetheless, I'm still going to remind you of the purpose of my call. You are coming, na?" she asks.
("Wah Wah, you are my real friend, really.")
"Rest assured, I'll be there before you even finish getting ready. Go and freshen up. See you at home," I say, hanging up the call.
AUTHOR'S POV
The sound of people typing hastily on their keyboards prevailed in the large open-plan office. Desks were cluttered with stacks of paperwork and glowing computer screens. The tension in the room was palpable, a stark contrast to the usual humdrum of the day.
Employees shuffled nervously in a queue near the printing machine, waiting to print out important documents. Their eyes darted towards the entrance every few seconds, anticipating the arrival of their boss who was coming to India from the U.S. branch. Whispers of anxious speculation filled the air as they exchanged worried glances.
At the coffee machines, a small group gathered, hoping for a quick hot sip to relieve their headaches. They checked their watches repeatedly, each tick of the second hand heightening their anxiety. The usually casual chatter was replaced with hushed conversations about last-minute tasks and deadlines.
"Do you think everything is in order?" asked a junior staff member, his voice barely above a whisper.
"I hope so. We've been preparing for it for a week. What more can we do?" replied the department head while pacing back and forth nervously.
Back at their desks, employees sat with rigid postures, their eyes glued to their screens. Fingers flew over keyboards, trying to finalize reports and presentations. The atmosphere was a mix of frantic activity and tense anticipation.
"He is arriving soon," a girl named Priya, who was standing at the coffee machine, said anxiously.
"Didn't you remember what happened the last time he came to India?" another person added.
"Right, he threw all the papers in the dustbin and even gave an hour-long lecture on how to set files, how the workplace should be, and how the staff must work. I even wonder if there is any person in this world who can give him a lecture like that," said Priya.
"I also heard that he lives most of the time in the U.S. His company is one of the best tech companies out there. But he comes every six months to India to check the condition here and gives us too much workload. But I heard one of the directors of the company speaking, that this time he is officially coming here permanently," said the junior staff member, lowering his voice even more.
Listening to his words, their eyes widened in surprise. "Coming here permanently? Yeah, because this is the main branch of the company, that would be a huge change for us. Imagine the constant scrutiny and the pressure to perform perfectly all the time," said Priya in a whispered tone, and everyone agreed with her.
"But we can't deny the fact that he single-handedly made this company one of the top companies all over the world," said the junior staff member.
"Very true indeed."
"Stop gossiping, you brats! Complete your work fast," the head of the department yelled while pacing back and forth.
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