𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑹𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒓𝒄𝒐𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑹𝒊𝒅𝒆

PART-54

Chhathiara: A traditional celebration of a newborn's sixth day.

Lakshmi ji: Goddess of wealth, fortune, power, beauty, and fertility.

Char Dham Yatra: A pilgrimage in the Himalayas to four holy Hindu shrines in Uttarakhand, India: Yamunotri, Gangotri, Kedarnath, and Badrinath.

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DING DONG! DING DONG! DING DONG!

"Ira!" Vaidehi's high-pitched voice echoed through the house. "See who's at the door, beta!"

"Okay!" Ira called back, storming out of her room. Her hair was a messy cloud around her face, the result of hours bent over her desk. Ink stains dotted her fingers and cheeks, and the faint crease on her forehead hadn't yet relaxed.

"Ow!" she hissed as her toe slammed into the iron threshold. She winced at the sharp sting, shaking her foot mid-run and muttering something under her breath before continuing toward the gallery.

The smell of festival sweets and various dishes lingered in the air. The doorbell's echo faded between the children's laughter outside, only to pierce the shallow stillness again.

Reaching the iron entrance door, she pulled it open, its hinges creaking in protest.

"HAPPY HOLI, CUTIE PIE!"

"Oh—whoa—oh!"

Ira's eyes squeezed shut as a burst of colour exploded across her face. A pair of quick, mischievous hands smeared pink and yellow gulal along her cheeks. The fine powder clung to her skin, its grainy texture feeling both soft and scratchy.

"Navya! That's not how you play with colours, beta. What if it went into her eyes?" A gentle, unfamiliar voice floated through the doorway.

Ira blinked rapidly, her eyes stinging slightly as she forced them open. Sunlight shimmered through the drifting gulal, giving everything a soft, pastel haze.

When her vision finally cleared, she saw Navya grinning beside a woman whose face shared the same lively features—likely her mother. The woman's saree was neatly pinned, her hair tied into a low bun. She held a cotton bag and a copper plate covered with a red cloth, the faint scent of something sweet escaping from beneath it.

Navya, meanwhile, looked like chaos wrapped in festivity—her face streaked with pink, green, blue, yellow, and orange. Her hair stuck out in every direction, her white teeth flashing through the colourful mess. She looked as though she had lived an entire lifetime of Holi in just one day.

"Sorry, sorry! I just got too excited." Navya bit her tongue and narrowed her eyes as she stepped closer. "You okay, Ira?" She tried wiping the colour off Ira's face, but her thumb only smeared the pink deeper into Ira's jawline, turning her apology into another burst of laughter.

Ira instinctively caught Navya's wrists, chuckling awkwardly. "Yeah, I'm fine... don't worry." Her now-clear eyes shifted toward the woman beside Navya. "Your mother?" she asked softly.

Navya nodded, beaming.

Ira immediately bowed her head, pressing her palm gently over her heart. "Pranam, aunty."

Navya's mother smiled warmly. "Khush raho, beta," she blessed her, her voice soft and motherly.

"Please come inside," Ira said, stepping aside and gesturing toward the gallery.

The woman entered carefully, balancing the copper plate and bag with both hands. Her saree rustled gently as she lifted it near her ankles to avoid tripping.