K3G Returns! #MissionDesi

Kabhi Khushi Kabhie Pareshaani

AFTER THE CARNIVAL DATE WITH ASMARA - could he call it a date? - Krish wasn't sure when he'd see her again. He adored Asmara yes, but scheduling proved to be a rather grueling task. They were both busy people, after all. 

However, one day after work, he had just so happened to eavesdrop on Daijaan chatting with Anjali. Apparently Ghasijaram's cousin, the niece of the owner of that fateful sweet shop, was getting married. It was supposed to be a grand affair, and everyone in Chandni Chowk was going to be there. 

As luck would have it, Daijaan had caught a fever and therefore unable to make it. Everyone had formulated excuses beforehand not to go on the poor sneezy lady's behalf - Poo was meeting an old friend, Rahul and Rohan planned to work late, and Yuvi was going partying. Krish was sure half of the statements were lies, but there wasn't much he could do. Spending a few sleepless nights - more than he'd like to admit - thinking of Asmara had left him with no plans.

Angry at her family for ditching her Khala, Anjali had taken it upon herself to take care of the dear old lady. She had to work on some new recipes anyways, and now she had her trusted confidant with her.

That left Krish. . .and Annette. Anjali had insisted Krish to attend the wedding. Much to her chagrin, Annette had gleefully announced that she was also available, though Anjali was much too quick for her. With an ever-so-sweet sugary smile and angry Punjabi curse words under her breath, Anjali had practically forced Annette to stay and help her take care of Daijaan. 

That night, the British diva had learned one important life lesson: Never mess with Anjali Raichand, or you will regret it.

. . .

SO ONCE AGAIN, THANKS TO FATE, Krish was back in Chandni Chowk that evening. First Eid, then the carnival, and now a wedding. If he thought the first two events were particularly decorative, he had another thing coming. 

The whole community was celebrating the lovely Mehak's wedding. She was, of course, the famous sweet shop owner Haldiram's niece. Thus, Chandni Chowk looked like something straight out of a fairy tale for her special night.

The sky was a deep navy, dusted with more stars than Krish had ever seen before, giving off an angelic glow. The giggling girls all resembled colorful fairies in their sparkling lehengas, sarees, and salwar suits. Through the crowds of pandemonium, Krish could make out tinkling anklets, stunning bangles, and henna-painted hands. Their jewelry chimed as they walked, the sounds fusing into one joyful song of excitement and festivity. 

In contrast, the men were dressed in filmy-style sherwanis. They barked orders at each other in their mission to make the wedding as perfect as possible. Kids giggled and mischievously crouched in hiding positions - they had already begun the tradition of stealing the groom's shoes. 

Bollywood songs poured from the speakers, filling the air with both the classic wedding tunes and the latest catchy beats. Tables were lined with platters full of sweets, as expected, and fragrant, elegant flowers were placed anywhere and everywhere.

Soon enough, someone announced that the bride was coming, and the chaos quickly died down, the chatter fading into awe. Heads turned, followed by enchanted gasps as the beautiful star of the night descended down the staircase, escorted by her entourage of pretty young girls.

And then there was Asmara. She was gracefully walking to the left of the bride, immediately capturing Krish's attention. She looked like nothing less than a princess in her deep red Anarkali suit, embroidered with black borders. She left her long hair in soft curls, the dark locks tumbling past her shoulders and revealing large hooped earrings dangling from her ears. Her lips were painted an alluring shade of dark red; her eyes were done smoky, her eyelashes long and sultry.