Teaser ;)
The office is quiet, Adrian stands at the desk, fiddling with some papers for a documentation project while Anya stands across from him, looking uneasy. The principal, Adrian's father, is still absent, which leaves the two alone.
Adrian l...
The week leading up to Ganpati was a whirlwind. Aunt Rhea took charge of the decorations, her energy unmatched, as Uncle tried to keep up with her endless demands. The house smelled of marigolds and sandalwood, and every corner buzzed with the chaos of preparation.
I spent hours stringing flowers, polishing the silver plates, and helping Aunt Rhea decide between the gold or red backdrop for the idol. (She eventually picked gold because, in her words, "Ganpati deserves the best.")
It felt familiar and different all at once. Back in India, the streets would've been alive with processions, drums, and lights. Here in America, it's quieter, almost intimate. The Indian store was our savior for everything-from the clay Ganpati idol to the sweets Aunt Rhea insisted on making "authentic."
I miss mom...and arav...and dad-
I sighed, anyways...
Aunt Rhea was in her full boss-lady mode, directing everything from the backdrop color ("It has to be gold, Anya!") (she said this 100 times) to where each diya should sit. Uncle tried keeping up with her, though half the time, he'd escape to the patio with his chai, saying, "Rhea, it's fine! Ganpati doesn't care about symmetry!"
I love them both, they're the perfect couple for eachother...my uncle is Indian but lived in America since he was 5,making him more comfortable with the American culture but then he fell in love with aunt rhea.
Omg- thier love story is a perfect 90s university romance. And guess what? It all happened at larkspur.
Aunt rhea told me once how uncle had sung her favourite hindi songs for her and recorded them in a mixtape to gift her.
She still has the mixtape.
How romantic!! Ahh!
By the time Ganpati arrived, the house was glowing. I looked around at the flowers, the lights, the faint scent of sandalwood and modaks-and I couldn't help but feel it. The mix of home and not-home. A little India in the middle of America. It wasn't perfect, but it felt like ours. __________________________________
The saree hugged me just perfectly, its deep green fabric shimmering with golden threads as I adjust the pleats nervously.
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I added the finishing touch-a jasmine gajra (garland) in my bun-and pause. I told myself it's just for the festival, for the family, for the pictures. But deep down, I wonder... if Adrian were to see me like this, would he even look twice?
The thought lingered, making my heart race a little more than it should.
Chup kar anya! (Shut it anya!)
Am i going crazy? Main kuch jyada Sundar toh nahi dikh rahi? Jyada toh nahi hoga?(Am i looking too pretty? I hope it's not too much.)
I glanced at the mirror one last time, fixing my bindi just right and went downstairs.
