Miscellany Of Desi Tadka

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An undefinable emotion bloomed in her chest as she slowly pulled open the door. The beep of the machine was making the surroundings haywire. She stood there at a distance watching various wires entwined to his body. A sob escaped from her mouth which she suppressed with her fist curled in her frost cutwork and mirrored dupatta. Her subtle features looked withered and dreadful.

A firm and gentle grip of a wrinkled hand sheathed her shoulders, "Amal, relax everything will be fine."

"Daddy, how can it be fine? These doctors have been jabbering about this for two days." Her tear-smeared face and red nose stood foreign to a crumbled frost shirt with silver earrings and matching chain tucked inside carelessly. Her husband had gone to buy mouth-savoring chutney puri and Russian Kebabs for her after returning from a meeting late at night. She had been grumpy and insolent all day for the reason for her missing appointment with her favorite silver paper plate of ravishing chutney puri with extra tamarind chutney to add into her trolly of calorie intake. Her husband hasn't liked the recent knack of hers but bowing to her orders he used to bring her cravings for 3 months.

Standing here in the ICU makes her regret each wish requested in her life of existence. She wiped her tears with the back of her hand and regressed her steps away from the poignant scene in front of her.

On the other hand, when he saw her coming from inside looking more damaged than she already was from before made his gut maul with more speed. He wanted to go to her to tell her everything will be fine, soak away every tear befallen. But retrieved back with the thoughts of his own feeling brimming up the surface like the overfilled Brahmaputra in monsoon.

His eyes longed for her, hers for somebody else. Their story, an entangled ball of wool. It all started years back when an infant orphaned girl was left alone in the footsteps of Sikander Mansion. They were fruitless but that didn't deter them from giving love to the orphans. Mr. Zaafir was the CEO of the gallant resort, Al Naim which stood on its four in the city of Valsad located on the banks of Tithal Beach in the state of Gujarat.

Wildan was adopted two years ago when his mother Safina died while in labor and his father in a car accident, indeed a tragedy for him. He was the nephew of Faiqa but always called her Mummy and yet again fate brought a little life in their lives after a year. Amal and Wildan were brought up together. They were the two beams of light in the darkened and downbeat world. It was as if Allah heard the pairs after a long-awaited duas of seven years. Years passed with their cacophony of cackles, bickers, and pranks, an affection they showed each other. It was he who realized his love for the dainty figure of 5'1 with long waist-length hair, nerdy glasses, and a cute frown that would appear every time she tried to solve the stupid Physics Problem, "Urgh! Ya Allah how in the world will it be solved. I am still young to turn into a white-haired hag. Please Allah help me," she raised her hands.

"Ya Allah if you love this servant of yours then, please pass her with good grades in Physics."

"And also in Chemistry"

"And also in Chemistry"

"And also in Biology"

"And also in Bio..." She turned around to look at his mocking face who released a big fat laugh followed by wiping off fake tears. She glared at him.

"Stop making fun of me Mummy ko buladungi."

(I'll call Mummy )

"Mummy ko buladungi. First, get yourself some brain cells," he mimicked her yet again with a jibe.

(I'll call Mummy.)

"Gussa na dilao jao yaha se maar dungi." She threw a hairpin that struck his bicep.