Dil ki Dilli

My Delhi

I woke to the soft sound of my grandmother's voice drifting through the haze of sleep. "Avni, utho! Subah ho gayi!" (Avni, wake up! It's morning!). Her voice held the warmth of countless mornings spent together. Blinking my eyes open, I found her standing in the doorway with a gentle smile lighting up her face. Her silver hair was swept into a neat bun, and her eyes, framed by delicate wrinkles, sparkled with the same affection she always showered on me.

"Good morning, Dadi," I murmured, stretching lazily as the morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting soft beams across my room. Dadi had made it her mission to wake me up every morning, even on weekends, and though I pretended to mind, I secretly cherished it.

"Get ready, beta," she said lovingly. "Breakfast is almost ready." There was something in the way she said "beta" that filled my heart, like the word was laced with warmth and care only grandmothers could give.

Reluctantly, I tossed off the blanket and swung my legs over the bed. My cosy little room was filled with pops of colour, fabrics, and posters of Delhi, my beloved city. Every inch of my space reflected my love for its chaotic charm.

As I brushed my teeth, my mind wandered to my Instagram account, @DelhiDiariesByAvni. What had started as a casual hobby had bloomed into something far more thrilling? Over 10,000 followers were now a part of my journey, sharing the wonders and hidden gems of Delhi through my eyes.

"Avni, come down soon!" my mother's voice echoed from the kitchen.

"I'm coming, Mummy!" I replied, hastily pulling on my favourite pair of distressed jeans and a vibrant yellow kurta. My reflection in the mirror gave me a wink of approval as I dashed downstairs.

The smell of freshly cooked parathas hit me as soon as I entered the dining area, the sight of my family gathered around the table filling me with an instant sense of belonging. My mother stood by the stove, her eyes filled with the contentment of the morning routine. Kabir, my younger brother, was hunched over his phone, no doubt lost in the world of gaming news.

"Pass me that paratha, Mummy," Kabir said without glancing up, his voice distracted as usual.

"Kabir, at least eat properly," my mother chided gently, but there was no real bite to her words.

I smiled at the scene and pulled out my phone, snapping a quick picture of Dadi as she adjusted her saree, looking as regal as ever.

"Dadi, can I take your pic for my Instagram today?" I asked, already picturing the caption that would accompany it.

She shook her head with a chuckle, her eyes twinkling. "You and your Delhi Diaries. What will you post about today?"

"I'm thinking of featuring the street food in Chandni Chowk," I said, reaching for my paratha and slathering it with butter.

My father, sitting at the head of the table, perked up. "That's a fantastic idea! You know, I used to eat kebabs at a little stall near the Red Fort back in the day. Best kebabs in all of Delhi."

"I'll take you there soon, Papa," I promised, imagining us strolling through the narrow, bustling lanes of Chandni Chowk, the smell of spices and grilled meats thick in the air.

Kabir rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed with my food obsession. "You and your never-ending love affair with Delhi's food."

I shot him a playful glare and nudged him in the arm. "Hey, someone has to document the city's culinary wonders!"

As we finished breakfast, Dadi patted my hand softly, her voice filled with quiet pride. "We're proud of you, Avni. You're showing the world the beauty of our Delhi."

Her words touched me deeper than I could express. I looked around at my family-my ever-supportive parents, my annoying but lovable brother, and my wise, nurturing grandmother-and felt my heart swell with love and gratitude. This was my world, filled with laughter, tradition, and the vibrant pulse of the city I adored.

Today, as I prepared to capture yet another part of Delhi's story, I knew it was going to be an extraordinary day.