Amidst Mumbai & Mantras

Prologue

'I am in love with you.'

Damn these clichés. When will mom stop watching these typical serials and crying over them? They make no sense at all. How can someone fall in love at first sight?

"Right, just like your Romeo and Juliet did, sweetie." Mom points out in defence. So I said that out loud. 

Once again, I pout and eye the inter leaf pages with utter confusion. How would I prepare a project report on Romeo and Juliet? I hate that story so much, there's nothing logical about it. But fate made its way and gave me this story as a project topic.

"Great! Just great!" I throw my books as the typical violins cried in the background, thanks to the TV.

"Samaira, you don't need to do this right now. Anyway, we have to go to the airport, remember? You can work on this later." My brother pops from his room.

"Sam, I love you!"

"No, you don't. You hate me because I am cooler and I am called Sam while you are a boring Samaira."

"Mom, tell him to shut up, now!"

"It's okay, Samaira. He's your elder brother."

"Yeah, mom. Take your son's side as always. Where is dad?" I yell into my brother's ear.

"Whoa, maniac. He's gone to fill the refrigerator with food and ice-cream. We have guests coming, remember? They need to be taken care of."

"No!" No way was I going to share my room with anyone. Just a 'no'.

***

"Why are you never on time?" My father says, irritated. His words are directed towards my ever-late mother who is running around her room trying to get ready. My brother and I look at each other and share a secret chuckle.

This was the typical scene which is repeated at our house whenever we all are supposed to go out. Mom is never on time and dad is a stickler for being punctual.

"Two more minutes." Mom says as she breezes past us to go the wash room.

"Kids, you both leave for the airport. The traffic is going to be bad. Your late latif mother and I will join you soon," he growls in annoyance. "I heard that!" Mom screams from thier room. Samar (I swear to god, Indian parents had a phase where they rhymed the names of their children. I have a lot of cousins with rhyming names, too.) and I just chuckle. He grabs the car keys and I follow him. As soon as I am about to leave, I hear dad giving mom a lecture on time management.

Yep, it's a normal day in the Mehta household!

Samar goes in the lift (He eats so much more than me but never gains a kilo. It is so unfair!) but I climb down the stairs (I need to lose a few kilos; the wedding is in almost three  weeks!), I see our neighbour aunties gossiping. I give them a brief wave and walk faster so they can't ask me any questions. Once these women get down to inquiry, they can give CIA interrogators a run for their money. I kid you not! I never kid when aunties are involved.

I reach the ground floor quickly, my brother is pulling up the car ( a black i10 aka my brother's baby. I still don't get his obsession with cars.) I open the door and sit in the passenger seat. After putting my seat belt on, I plug my phone with the aux and turn on a song from my awesome playlist.

"Put on that Maroon 5 song." My brother commands me. I give him an eye roll because he could have said please, too. Nevertheless, I put on 'Animals' as it is a great song and I adore Adam Levine. I drum my fingers along my knees and get into the grove of the music.

We are stuck in traffic again, which is awful, here, in Mumbai. My dad often says you always push the break pedal more than the accelerator. And the way we are going right now, he is definitely right.

"So, you know you are going with them everywhere, right?" Samar quips with an amused look on his face.

By 'them' he means the guests we are going to pick up right now.

They are coming to Mumbai as my cousin brother is getting married in almost three weeks. So, they all are coming to attend the wedding. It's the first wedding of our family. Suffice to say, we all are extremely excited!

"Yes, brother. I am aware." I say a bit glumly.

I am one who got roped into show them around. My father has very unkindly forced me to be their guide for their stay here. You know, they will naturally want to explore around and all. It's not that I don't want to show them around, it's just that I have a lot of plans which need my undivided attention. Of course, when I mentioned this to dad, all I got was a look which meant 'What's more important than family?' That shut me up quickly. I knew one way or another he would have forced me, anyway. So, there was literally no point in saying 'no'. I put on a fake smile and said 'yes'. Be the good kid and use this as a leverage in future. I'm not evil but to get permission for things like late night parties, sleepovers and outings with friends, you need such leverage.

"Sam?" My brother asks, concerned if I am daydreaming again. I bet he is assuming I am in love with someone. Little does his know Samaira is not an easy girl to win.

"Yes." I smiled.

"Why are you smiling?"

"Because you called me Sam and not Samaira. This is shocking but surprising, Samar."

Picture of Samaira and Samar on top! 

A/N: Hey everyone, I know it's been too long since I've written anything. And I should probably continue my other books too. But I had this story stuck in my head, past couple of months and had to write it. I can assure you, I'm working on SNYC too!

Special thanks to @15_Angels_Of_Destiny for all her help and support with editing and the cover. You rock girl :* Thank you again!

So, I hope you like this prologue. If you do or even if you don't, please give me your feedback.

There will be words which will be in Hindi, probably Gujarati and Marathi so for all those who don't understand the meaning of a certain word, I'll give you the meanings in the end. Check it out :)

Glossary and Notes:

late latif (Hindi): always late

Lift: elevator

Copyright © 2016 by Saloni Punatar (My_Little_Secret_)

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author.