THEM 'Ishman'

Wedding ft. hostel

It was a Thursday evening so dull that even the usually hyper Ishan was subdued—or at least pretending to be.

He was sprawled upside-down on the couch, flipping through a comic book with exaggerated sighs.

"I'm dying of boredom." He announced for the tenth time in five minutes.

Virat, perched on a chair with a cricket ball in his hand, rolled his eyes. "Good. One less noisy brat in the house."

"Virat, that's rude! How can you say that to our baby?" Shubman protested mock-seriously, smirking from his corner.

Ishan shot up instantly. "Hey! I'm not a baby!"

"You literally cried last week because we finished the Nutella." Hardik interjected, tossing a cushion at him.

"THAT WAS TRAUMA!" Ishan yelled, catching the cushion and flinging it back.

Hardik dodged and stood up dramatically. "Enough! This boredom is eating away at our sanity. We need to do something epic. Something so ridiculous, the hostel will talk about it for years!"

Shubman's smirk widened. "I've got just the thing. A wedding."

Everyone turned to him.

"A what?" Virat asked, raising an eyebrow.

"A wedding. And not just any wedding. The grand union of Abhishek and Mayank." Shubman repeated, leaning back casually.

Abhishek, who had just walked in with a plate of momos, froze. "Huh? What now?"

"You're getting married, my friend!""You and Mayank have been inseparable since Day 1. It's time to make it official." Hardik declared, throwing an arm around Abhishek.

Mayank, lounging on the couch, grinned. "I knew this day would come. Abhishek, my dear, will you be my forever roommate?"

Abhishek sighed dramatically, putting his hand on his chest. "Oh, Mayank, I've waited so long for this moment. Yes, yes, a thousand times yes!"

And with that, the madness began.

Rohit took charge as the self-proclaimed wedding planner, clutching a notebook with doodles on the front. "Alright, team. We're pulling off the most legendary wedding ever. Ishan, stop eating chips and pay attention!"

"I'm multitasking!" Ishan protested, crumbs flying as he spoke.

"Shubman, Tilak, you're on decoration duty." Rohit said.

"Consider it done!" Tilak said, already yanking mismatched bedsheets from the cupboard.

Shubman sighed, watching him with mild amusement. "You have the creativity of a potato, Tilak. Let me handle this."

"Fine, Picasso." Tilak retorted, tossing a sheet at him.

"Ishan! You're the flower girl." Rohit pointed dramatically at the youngest.

Ishan, who had been munching on chips, choked. "Me? Why do I have to be the flower girl? I'm the baby of this group! I deserve respect, not—"

"Exactly. Flower girl is an elite role." Rohit interrupted, waving his hand dismissively.

"Why can't Shubman do it? He's the one with the silky hair." Ishan groaned.

"Because you're cute, chhotu." Shubman replied, flicking Ishan's forehead.

"Now go find flowers. Or make some. I don't care." Rohit said.

Grumbling, Ishan stomped off. "This is exploitation of the baby of the group. I'll call HR."