When Sahitya Met Ghazal

Chapter 1 | The One Where She Comes to Town

The universe refuses to send me a real life book boyfriend who would wake me up with a forehead kiss and a "Hello, Ghazal darling." 

Instead what I'm subjected to is -"Ghazal! Uth jao beta, it's late. Are you going to waste you entire break sleeping?" At an earth-shatteringly loud volume.

As if her yelling wasn't enough, mamma came into the room, opened all the windows, letting the sounds of the busy streets into my peaceful room, then she swithced off the fan and left without closing the door of my room. Twenty five years of living in this house, and she still doesn't know how to wake her daughter up without spoiling her mood. 

Usually, I'd wake up to my alarm blaring and still be ok. But that was in college. Now, that I've a job and am living in my hometown for the break, my mom's usual wake up call has been rehired. And if there's someone who hates it at the job more than ACOTAR fans hate tampon, it's me. 

Mornings and nights are the two time periods where my hyperacusis is at its worst. The smallest of sounds are too loud, I hear everthing, from the neighbour aunty's high pitch bhajans, my room's clock ticking, the cooker going off downstairs to the music blaring two houses away, and it sends my brain in an overdrive. And then, I wake up cranky and distraught. And that leads to more scolding. It's like a vicious cycle that keeps repeating throughout the day.

But I've had these fights before, I know my parents won't listen. So instead, I ignore her, wake up, put on my headphones and play today's song: Chalte Chalte Yun Hi Koi. Honestly, that's every other day's first song. The music and Lata ji's voice were so perfect, I couldn't help but sing along.

Focusing on that one sound source helps calm down my over-stimulated brain and I set out to complete my morning routine. Brush. Bath. Get Ready in my comfiest over sized t-shirt and sweatpants. And finally, after somewhat improving my mood, I prepare myself to go downstairs and face my parents. I know exactly what's waiting downstairs, seeing as my dad's home and probably having his breakfast. I'm going to sit down at the dining table and be subjected to a new "conversation" on something related to my job. 

It isn't that I don't love my parents, I love them to saturn and back. But its been years since I've had a normal conversation with my dad, one that didn't include my studies or my job. We were never the papa-beti pair I'd seen my friend's having and that saddened me more than it ought to. And my mother, my favourite person in the whole world, she was just too burdened with the responsibilities of the house. They, more often than not, left her tired and agitated. And that frustration ended up coming out on her kids. 

Our relationships suffered due to all these reasons, to the extent that my parents never saw who their elder daughter was as a person. I was either the model topper student or the perfect employee with a good job.

All these thoughts however, were forcefully pushed to the dark corners of mind and with the realest fake smile I could muster, I entered the kitchen, said my 'Jai shree krishna' and sat down at my usual seat.

"Le garam garam haldi walo dhoodh ane saathe thepla che, ema ghee lagavi ne lai le," my mamma said as she handed me a cup of milk. I didn't get to have tea regularly. At home, because mamma said it's addicting and in college because I never had the time to make it every day and maybe because it was never as good as my mamma's. I did as she told and took a thepla (a famous Gujrati flatbread) and applied some ghee on it. 

As soon as I took my first bite, my dad started, "To how's the job going. Settling in fine na."  And that's what we spent the rest of our breakfast. Honestly though, it wasn't that bad. With a ghee-wala thepla in my hand, I can manage anything. 

———————————

That was the first chapter people. You met Ghazal, our gujju heroine and learnt quite a bit about her personality. I generally prefer to let the readers discover personalities as they read, but in Ghazal's case, her personality is what a major plot of this story is based on. And I'd like to clarify the reactions she has and the way she behaves in the future without leaving you guys confused or irritated. 

Now, to wait for our hero...

Till then, here's  a question for you guys- what are some of your favourite tropes you'd like to see in this book?

See you,

Yours in Poetry,

Tara