❀ 𝐀𝐧 𝐈𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 ❀
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
In the bustling corridors of a lively Indian high school, amidst the chaos of classes we find Meera Sharma, is the kind of girl who seems ordinary at f...
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Today is Diwali, and from the moment I opened my eyes, the house has been buzzing with activity. I guess that’s how it is in every Indian home on this day—chaotic but in the best way possible. Mummy is on a mission to make everything perfect, every corner spotless, every item in its rightful place.
We’ve all been roped into helping her, scrubbing, dusting, and polishing every surface until it gleams. By evening, everything will be ready for Laxmi Puja, and the house will be bathed in the warm glow of diyas, the air filled with the scent of incense and the sound of prayers.
Our house is already decked out in fairy lights, the balcony glowing with a soft, warm light that spills into the street. I spent the afternoon making a small rangoli in front of the door, carefully choosing the colors, making sure each petal, each curve was perfect. It’s a tradition I love, a moment of quiet creativity in the midst of the Diwali madness.
And later, after we’re all dressed, we’ll light the diyas and place them around the house, the flickering flames chasing away the shadows, welcoming the goddess of wealth into our home.
Now, I’m upstairs getting ready for the evening. Siya, of course, is already dressed, her excitement bubbling over as she flits around the house in her new outfit, her hair perfectly done, her face glowing with the joy of the festival. Her obsession with getting ready, with new dresses and makeup, is something else. I can’t help but smile at her as I try to focus on my own reflection.
I’ve chosen a pastel light pink lehenga for the evening, its soft hue matching the delicate makeup I’ve been struggling to perfect. My hair is down, falling in loose waves around my shoulders, but it’s my eyeliner that’s giving me trouble. The right eye is fine, but the left… no matter how hard I try, it just won’t cooperate.
After what feels like the hundredth attempt, I finally manage to get it right, finishing it off with a touch of pink glitter eyeshadow. Satisfied, I step back from the mirror, giving myself a final once-over. I look… good. I look ready.
Heading downstairs, I find everyone already gathered in the living room. Massi, Mausa, Mummy, Papa, Siya, and Preeti are all there, talking and laughing, the air thick with the warmth of family and festivity.
Siya exclaims, her eyes wide with admiration, "Ohhhooo, someone's looking really pretty today!"
I smile and reply, "Thank you, Siya. But let's be real, I always look pretty. You just didn't notice until now, and you look good too!" I pat her head playfully.
Siya twirls around, showcasing her vibrant sea green lehenga, and says, "No way, I'm more beautiful than both of you!" She strikes a pose, flaunting her outfit.
