Fragments of Ruhi

From Scribbles to Symbols

In the heart of Udaipur, where the scent of jasmine bloomed in the early morning air, Ruhi Birla, a girl with a heart as bright as the setting sun, was the apple of everyone's eye. Her cheeks, a soft blush of pink, matched the roses that adorned the gates of the majestic Birla mansion. The mansion, a sprawling complex of warm sandstone, was not just a home but the epicenter of the Birla family's love, laughter, and of course, their world-renowned hospital.

Every member of the Birla family had dedicated their life to healing others, yet when it came to Ruhi, their only daughter and the youngest member of the family, they couldn't help but shower her with a unique brand of protection that often felt more like a cocoon.

Ruhi's days were filled with the chatter of her two cousins, Shivansh and Abhir, who were more like her brothers. Shivansh, the eldest of the trio, had eyes that twinkled with mischief. He was the one who taught Ruhi to climb trees and sneak cookies from the kitchen, but his devilish grin melted away the moment anyone spoke a word against her.

Abhir, on the other hand, was the gentle soul who loved to sketch the fluttering butterflies Ruhi so adored. Despite being the same age, he looked at her with an innocent admiration that made Ruhi feel like the most important person in the universe.

The Birla men, from her father Neil to her tauji Parth and Abhimanyu, treated Ruhi like she was made of spun sugar. They had a tendency to hover whenever she was out of their sight, ready to scoop her up and whisk her away from any perceived danger.

Her taiji/maasi akshara would often rolled her eyes at their antics but couldn't help but smile at the love that motivated their overzealous behavior. The Birla ladies, however, had their own ways of dealing with the overprotective nature of the men.

Ruhi's grandmother, Manjari, often whispered sweet nothings into her ear, sharing tales of her own childhood adventures and the importance of independence.

Mahima, Ruhi's strict grand-aunt, was a stern figure in the hospital corridors but had a soft spot for the little girl. She'd slip her an extra piece of her famous gulab jamun when no one was looking, a silent gesture of understanding that sometimes rules were meant to be bent.

Aarohi, Ruhi's mother, was a doctor who had seen it all. Her straight-forward attitude and stubbornness had earned her respect in the medical field, and she wasn't about to let the men dictate Ruhi's every move. "Let her breathe," she'd often say, exasperated by their constant hovering. Yet, even she couldn't resist the urge to check on Ruhi one more time before bed, ensuring she was safe and sound in her butterfly-themed room, surrounded by plush pillows and a canopy of twinkling fairy lights.

But it was Ruhi's grandfathers, Harshvardhan and Anandvardhan, who had the most over-the-top reactions to Ruhi's escapades. Harshvardhan, the CEO of Birla Hospital, had a booming laugh that could be heard across the mansion, yet he had a serious side when it came to Ruhi's well-being. Anandvardhan, on the other hand, was the calm in the storm, the sane voice amidst the male cacophony. He'd often take Ruhi aside, his eyes twinkling with mirth, and whisper, "Don't worry, beta, we'll handle them."

Ruhi's other taiji, Shefali, had learned to navigate the tides of the Birla household with grace. As elder daughter-in-law of birla household, she knew the boundaries of when to stand firm and when to let the boys have their way. She'd often find Ruhi hiding in her room, surrounded by her favorite books, a secret place where she could escape the prying eyes of her overprotective entourage. With a knowing smile, Shefali would bring her a cup of her favorite chocolate milk.

One such afternoon, Ruhi stumbled upon a stack of papers in her father's study. Her curiosity piqued by the unfamiliar scribbles and charts, she grabbed a crayon and began to add her own artistic flair. But what she didn't know was that these weren't just any papers. They were the crucial documents for the hospital's upcoming merger-papers that had to be pristine and untouched.