𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

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༘⋆🌷🫧💭₊˚ෆ

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༘⋆🌷🫧💭₊˚ෆ

𝐅𝐚𝐫𝐪 𝐇𝐚𝐢

मैं बेरंग तू चमक है, 
फर्क है, फर्क है, फर्क है

📓

08:57 PM, 07 DECEMBER, NEW DELHI, DELHI

𝗩𝗔𝗡𝗬𝗔

"Mummy, when are we leaving?" I ask my mother, my tone borderline whiny. Mumma turns to me, hands me the half-eaten chaat and turns back to continue conversing with her cousin.
I look down at the chaat and then at my mother before I pick up the spoon and finish what she left for me. Never disrespect food.

"Mummy, yaar!" I mumble, tugging on the sleeve of her blouse, earning me a glare from her.
"We'll leave in a few. Let me finish talking to your maasi first, then we'll give your mama ji the envelope and leave," my mother replies in a hushed tone and I groan before looking away.

"Aaj kal ke bacche, inhe pasand hi nahi bado ke saath baithna," my maasi remarks when I stand up to grab something to eat. Might as well stuff myself than sit and listen to old ladies talk about other's family dramas.

I roll my eyes at Maasi's remark. Like her kids are any better. One is busy talking with his girlfriend while the other is busy taking selfies.

Being an introvert and someone who hates confrontation and drama, I dislike Indian weddings which are the prime premise for such. The judgy looks, the unnecessary gossip, the never-ending talk of marriage, I hate them all.

Making my way to the food counter, I look around for the counter with the least amount of people and smile when I find one at the end. Grabbing the paper plate, I proceed to put some noodles in.

Just before I can turn around my phone rings and I pull it out of my pocket. "Haan mummy?" I call out. "Bring me some water," she says, static following before I can hear her again, "and your maasi too."

She cuts off the call and I blink. Oh to be curled up on my bed, reading a new book with some spicy noodles and-

I stop my fantasies. I am already wasting my precious time dedicated to reading by coming here, better be quick and convince Maa to leave. "Here, hold this," I hand the paper plate to one of the cousins, I didn't bother remembering the name of. 
There are too many to count anyway.

Running over to the water dispenser, I pick up two water bottles and go over to where my mother was. Oh god, a group of aunties. I pause for a moment when I find my mother sitting amongst them.
A group of aunties at Indian weddings were like a pack of hyenas waiting to devour you. They waited for a small mistake to pounce on you and by the time they were done, you'd be getting snarls and smacks from your mothers.

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