Unbinding Tradition

61. Clingy Jiminee 🥺

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The morning sunlight bathed the Jeon Haveli, casting long golden shadows across the sprawling courtyard.

Inside the kitchen, the air was thick with the aroma of freshly fried puris and spicy sabzi. Tae, dressed in a simple lehenga, moved swiftly between the counters. Her delicate hands worked tirelessly, rolling out dough, stirring pots, and occasionally wiping a strand of hair from her forehead.

The kitchen was bustling with the other women of the house, their chatter blending with the rhythmic clinking of utensils.

Meanwhile, in the garden, Jungkook was immersed in his morning workout. He stood beneath the shade of a neem tree, his vest clinging to his torso from the exertion.

His muscles flexed and rippled with every bicep curl he performed, the veins on his arms prominent as sweat trickled down. His focus was sharp, his jaw set as he pushed his limits.

The faint sound of chirping birds and rustling leaves accompanied his routine, adding a sense of tranquility to his intensity.

Inside the haveli, Dadi-sa reclined on her favorite wooden swing, her legs propped up on a cushion. She sighed dramatically, looking at her daughter, Bua-sa.

Dadi-sa- My legs feel like they’ve been carrying the weight of this world for years,

Dadi-sa complained, patting her knees for emphasis. She glanced at Hetal, who was seated nearby, and slapped her arm lightly.

Dadi-sa- Aee chhori, massage my legs for a bit. They might finally get some relief.

Hetal gasped in mock disbelief.

Hetal- Me, Dadi-sa? Why me?

Bua-sa widened her eyes, giving Hetal a pointed look.

Understanding her mother’s unspoken command, Hetal nodded reluctantly. She shuffled closer to Dadi-sa and began massaging her legs, muttering under her breath about the injustice of it all.

Just then, Tae walked out of the kitchen, balancing a tray of steaming chai cups. She handed the cups to Dadi-sa, Bua-sa, and Hetal with a polite smile. The warm liquid seemed to please Dadi-sa, who leaned back and sipped her tea contentedly.

A sudden knock at the door broke the quiet rhythm of the morning. All heads turned toward the entrance. Tae quickly set down the tray and walked to the door. When she opened it, a postman stood there, holding a parcel.

Postman- I’m looking for Mr. Jeon Jungkook. (the postman said, his voice polite yet firm)

Tae smiled and replied,

Tae- I’m his wife. You can give it to me.

The postman hesitated and shook his head.

Postman- I need his signature, madam. It’s protocol.

Tae nodded in understanding.

Tae- Alright, please wait here. I’ll call him.

As she turned to leave, Bua-sa, who had been observing the exchange with sharp eyes, called out,

Bua-sa- Tae! Wait a moment.

Tae stopped and looked back at Bua-sa.

Tae- Yes, Bua-sa?

Bua-sa- Before you go, prepare some snacks for the postman. He must be tired from delivering parcels all morning. (she said, her tone leaving no room for argument)

Tae- But Bua-sa— (she began, her brows furrowing)

Bua-sa- No buts. (she interrupted, shooing her toward the kitchen) Go now. Hetal, you go and call Jungkook.