Head over Heels ☑️

Chapter 34 - Khushi

🎶 Ahista Ahista - Kazinama & Musarrat Nazir

"Alright, I'm off, Bua-ji! Call me if you need anything!" Khushi called out, fastening her sling bag over her kurti and sliding her phone into the outer pocket.

It had been three days since she arrived home, and there was a spring in her step—her Amma was arriving tomorrow from Lucknow, and the idea of home coming together in pieces warmed her from the inside out.

Though technically on holiday, Khushi had fallen into a pleasant little routine—heading out midday to the nearest internet cafee to sneak in a few hours of coursework. She had already enrolled for her Spring semester, and the syllabus had her far too intrigued to wait.

Now, weaving her way through the riotous chaos of Sarojini Nagar, Khushi clutched a piping hot masala bhutta [spiced corn on the cob] in one hand, the charred corn kernels glistening with lime, red chili and salt.

Her eyes danced across the vibrant rows of shops—racks of sequined dupattas fluttered like banners of rebellion, sandals gleamed under plastic sheets, and the air was thick with a mix of roasted peanuts, bargaining voices, and the sharp bite of NewDelhi winter in the shade.

Her phone rang just as she stopped by a vendor selling jhumkas g shaped like tiny lotus buds. She cradled the phone between her ear and shoulder, licking a stray drop of lime off her finger.

"Khushi! Hello?"

"Hi Gauri!" she chirped.

"Turn around. Four o'clock!"

Khushi spun on her heel, scanning the crowd until she spotted her—Gauri, bounding toward her in her usual boho chic, her dark waves bouncing like a cluster of grapes. Khushi laughed as she cut the call, arms opening for a quick hug.

"I thought that was you," Gauri grinned. "But I had to be sure before I screamed your name and accidentally greeted someone's maasi."

"It's so good to see you! What brings you here?"

"Oh, I'm gift hunting. My cousin's visiting from Pune—she's thirteen and terrifyingly trendy. I figured I'd grab her a statement jewelry set."

They fell into easy conversation, winding their way through the lanes while shopkeepers called out like sirens—"Madam, pure cotton!" "Miss, buy one get one!" "Student discount!"

Their pace slowed as they hovered at a stall covered in glinting earrings and layered necklaces. And then it began—the inevitable designer spiral.

"Look at the way this stone is cut," Gauri murmured, holding up a pair of earrings. "It's mimicking Mughal latticework—but see this? The designer's clearly referencing Indo-Persian art forms. That drop chain is very chaandbali adjacent but with a modern asymmetry."

Khushi nodded, already pulling another set from the rack. "And this one—oh wow, the emamel work is very Jaipur-meets-Korean-minimalism. See the muted pastel against the gold filigree...that's not random."

They were gone for a full hour—inspecting textures, debating gently over material versus aesthetic, and dissecting design choices as if answering exam questions. Khushi found herself instinctively analyzing each piece—no longer just a casual shopper, but someone seeing through the trained lens of a fashion design student. Gauri was no different, equally absorbed in the nuances.

Time slipped by unnoticed until Khushi's phone buzzed in her hand, Bua-ji's name flashing insistently across the screen.

"Okay... lauki[bottleguard] and what else did you say?" Khushi asked, pen poised over a page in her little notepad.