K3G Returns! #MissionDesi

Kabhi Khushi Kabhie Morning

BREAKFAST AT THE RAICHAND HOUSEHOLD was always a bustling affair. Whether it was Anjali's off-key patriotic singing, Rohan and Pooja's bickering, or Daijaan's sizzling pan of parathas, there was never a quiet moment at the table. Even though Yash and Nandini had shifted into a nice mansion they had built for themselves in Bangkok after retirement, there was always enough chaos to make up for it.

In other instances, Anjali Raichand may have moved back to India twenty years ago after living in England for eight, but she absolutely refused to give up her daily tribute to her motherland - her rambunctious singing. "Saare jahaan se acha, Hindustan hamara [Better than the entire world, our India.]..."

Finishing her last line, Anjali squeezed her son's cheeks as she forced another paratha on his plate. Krish Raichand knew arguing with his eccentric Punjabi mother would be futile, so he didn't protest, even as she pinched his face, cooing at her "baby."

"Subah subah shuru hogayi Madonna [There goes Madonna early in the morning]," came a mumble. Rahul Raichand, the boss of this house, as he liked to refer to himself as, rolled his eyes, pushing his reading glasses further up his nose to read his newspaper.

On the other side of the massive table, Pooja Raichand - always the last to wake up - was digging through an array of breakfast cereals, searching for her fat free brand whilst arguing with her husband, Rohan, for drinking up all the skim milk.

Their son, a pampered-to-the-ends-of-the-earth young man, simply ate his omelette. If there was one thing Yuvi Raichand inherited from his parents, it would be his health consciousness. He downed his glass of water, enjoying his family's company after a while, as he had just returned from London and completed his MBA.

"Pooja, you are the mother of a legal adult now!" Rahul jumped out of his chair with frustration as she passed him to sit down with her cereal, her miniskirt coming into view. "At least stop wearing those now! How does it look? Pooja Raichand in these tiny clothes. Are you trying to show the whole world all of you?"

"Grow up, Jeej." Pooja rolled her eyes backwards to the heavens with an exaggerated groan. Her usually lion-of-a-husband of course, turned into a mere cub in front of his brother's anger, so he stayed silent as always during their arguments.

"Papa, take a chill pill," Krish mimicked the line of Daijaan and Anjali mischievously, though retracted at his father's glare.

"Aww, syabaas mera beta [good job, my son], my sweetu!" Anjali cooed at her son, ruffling his hair, as Rahul muttered to himself, "Maa ke chamche [Mama's boy]." Daijaan, who was not nearly a nanny anymore but instead a very important part of the family, laughed.

"Achha, sun [Okay, listen]. Krishi, remember you have to go down to Chandni Chowk today to make Khala's Eid donations. Bhoolna mat, haan? [Don't forget, okay?]" Anjali's voice wafted to the dining room from the kitchen as she picked up some more omelettes for her nephew. Krish nodded, sipping his orange juice.

"Thank you, Krish baba," Daijaan said cheerfully. "Oh! And if you have time, bring back some jalebis for us. Mmmm," she sighed at the thought of old times in Chandni Chowk.

"Oh haan," Anjali sighed too. "I wish we could go back too. Too much work around here." Besides maintaining the house with her Khala, Anjali also remained busy with her catering business, which she had kickstarted not too long after her return to India. Of course, she received no help from her socialite former-super-model-turned-interior-designer little sister, who was always too busy either attending the finest of parties or shopping for the most expensive of clothing.

"I miss it soooooo much," Anjali whined, continuing her melodramatic rant. "The food, the carnivals, everything! The atmosphere there was something else entirely!" She exclaimed, smiling dreamily. "And the food! Wahaan ke khaana sabse acha hai! [The food there is the best!]" Daijaan nodded her agreement.

"At least not like here, where I'm tortured everyday by my heartless husband," Anjali pouted and sniffed ridiculously, while Daijaan smirked.

Rahul massaged his temples, mumbling, "Chandni Chowk ke saare pagal mere ghar mein. [All the crazy people from Chandni Chowk are in my house.]"

"Arre, chodna Bhaiyya [Hey, leave it, bro]," Rohan attempted at consoling his brother.

Pooja shot both of them a menacing glare, before turning back to the others.

"No sweets for me, Krishi darling. Main diet par hoon [I'm on a diet]," she announced, sassy as ever. Her husband, however, broke out in mocking laughter - which soon turned to pretend choking once his wife shot him another piercing glare. Krish handed his uncle a glass of water, trying to keep his expression neutral.

"Of course, anything for you, maasi [mother's sister]." Krish gave his aunt a crooked grin. She didn't say anything, though twisted her lips irritatedly at being called an aunty. She never forgot her rule for her darling nephew: Don't call me maasi!

"Anyways," Pooja turned to her own son, huffing at both her husband and her nephew. "Yuvu, why don't you join him? Waise bhi [Anyway], you just returned from London, my poor baby. Join him, na. Enjoy! And don't forget water. And wash your hands. It's very unhygienic there...." she ranted.

"Okay, Ma, uh, Mom," Yuvi quickly corrected himself (his mother always insisted on being addressed in the most modern ways as possible).

A few arguments later, the rest of the morning, as every morning, passed without any hindrances. After saying their goodbyes, the Raichands were ready to start their day. And this day, began with Krish and Yuvi's visit to Chandni Chowk.

As Daijaan would say, Hai Allah! [Oh God!]

...

Bit of a filler, but I hope you enjoyed! Next chapter will introduce Asmara. ;)

Let me know what you think!

- Meenal.