Curry Munching with the French Boy

24

AN: SONG FROM DHOOM 2 AAAND PIC OF KATRINA KAIF. DHOOM 1,2 & 3 ARE FUCKING AWESOME.

"Rotis?"

"Check!"

"Curries?"

"Check!"

"Rice?"

"Check!"

"Sweetmeats?"

"Che-" Diya dropped a plate of laddus onto the floor.

"What the fuck?" I groaned stooping over to help her pick them up.

"Sorry," she giggled, "there's three more plates in the kitchen."

"Everything good?" My mother asked popping in to check on us.

"Ha, Ma." Diya and I both replied.

"But why did we make so much of food if everyone is going to come over and make more?" I asked.

"This not enough, you see. Family eat lot. This just starters. Now you go get ready, okay."

Diya and I left the kitchen and went to our rooms. Since my father had left, my mother decided to throw a party for her family. My father never let my mother see her family much after they got married so she was very excited.

My mother's family were traditional Indians, through and through. They could all speak Hindi, which I couldn't, so being left out of the conversation was a normal thing for me. Diya could understand and speak it and I'm sure the aunties wouldn't mind teaching Preeya and Gita.

I knew I had to dress in Indian clothing for the party. I opened my cupboard and pushed all my clothes apart. Behind the many pieces of everyday clothing was another row of hangers containing my only-for-special-occasions clothes.

I browsed through them for a bit before deciding on a lehenga. It was a powder pink colour with silver stitching and bead work. I pulled it on and checked myself out in the mirror. I looked pretty damn good. The long skirt had intricate beading along the bottom of it and the blouse left some of my belly exposed. I threw the scarf around my one shoulder and went on to makeup. I applied a light pink eyeshadow to my eyelids before putting on black eyeliner and mascara. I used a pink lipstick to match and placed a silver tear dropped bindi on my forehead. I had a few curlers in my hair which I undid, letting my hair fall in soft curls. I put on jingling bangles on each of my arms. They were an assortment of pink and silver. Then I grabbed a silver anklet and fastened it around one leg. It tinkled softly with each step I took. When I was satisfied I looked good enough, I went back to the kitchen to help my mother.

"Here take," my mother ordered shoving a silver tray into my hands. On it was laddus, an incense stick, some or other ornament and white powder. "Vhen guest come, you do like this." She moved it in a circular motion a couple of times then put the white powder on my forehead. "Okay?"

I nodded when the sound of a car pulling into the driveway could be heard.

"Go, stand vith your sister by front door!" My mother yelled as I left with the tray. The door was held open with a stopper so as to look inviting.

Diya arrived shortly after, wearing tight black leather leggings and a cream coloured crop top. Her makeup was over the top and her hair was pulled into a high ponytail.

"Dee, what the hell?" I hissed at her.

"I'm leaving, okay? I'll be back tomorrow morning." She said pulling on high heels.

"Where are you going?"

"Out," she smirked cryptically, "I'd rather be with friends on a Saturday than at some dumb family function. Mom will be too busy entertaining guests to even notice I'm gone."