Chapter One: The Idyllic Family
Sunlight was streaming through the loops in the folds of the curtains, accompanied by the amalgam of the delightful scent of autumn and the saccharine aroma of sweltering chips brewing up in the air. Mornings in Paris were very hushed, seldom accompanied by clamors; there were only the chirrups of birds and the sighs of the wind, shepherded by the radiance of the sunbeams.
"Bonjour Mrs. Khurana! Quel beau jour!" (Good morning Mrs. Khurana! What a lovely day!)
"Oh, bonjour Mrs. Gherkins! Indeed, it's a lovely day!" Geet beckoned away a send-off.
The appliances in the kitchen were at top gear; the microwave rolled away a platter of rice, the frying pan sputtered the *Omlette, turning it auburn, the kettle stifled a rattling sound, the plate clattered merrily, being placed on the dining table, the bowl stuffed with chips held in reserve an uncanny silence, the glass jingled as drops of the remaining milk fluttered at the rim, and the ambiance was reinstated to its unruffled silence by the last jangle of the lid on the glass.
The clock tinkled, indicating half past seven.
"Shit!" a faded mumble was heard before the entire house was engulfed in bellows.
"Aru! Maan! On your feet! It's half past seven!"
Geet Singh Khurana's routine task one- waking up her husband and her son, who always seemed to be sleeping in the arms of Morpheus. Everyday, the same theatrical scene reeled in the Khurana House: a bawling Geet and a never-waking-up-on-time husband and child.
"Maan Singh Khurana, you intend to get up, now!" her gradually increasing tone proportionally increased his heartbeats and the alacrity at which blood normally trekked in his arteries, surely bringing a boost in the amount of spurts and therefore, eventually in his pulse. He was witty; he had a brain, as compared to his wife, and indisputably would do nothing to face the wrath of his wife.
Without more ado, his left eye fluttered open and the prospect in front of him was soothing- his wife was not there! "Au moins," (Atleast) he buzzed before hearing her screech in Arush's room. "God save him!" he whispered prior to dozing off, once again.
"Maman! (Mom) I am feeling drowsy; let me sleep, please," pleaded Arush.
"It's ...Devi Maiyya! Gosh!... quarter to eight! Com'on! In the bathroom!" In a swift pull, Arush was in the bathroom, sleeping again, maybe.
Sensing numerous bangs, Maan lazily woke up, his eyes barely open only to find, his beautiful wife-urrh, beautiful didn't seem to be the appropriate adjective, at that time- ogling at him.
"I am up! Look, let's go... I... I mean... Gee..Geet.. I don't know! Arush.. Arush is in the bathroom! Yes, he is in the bathroom, I... I was just waiting for him to.. you know," he smiled idiotically his heart throbbing, indeed hammering. He was scared, scared of his wife, scared of Geet.
"Maan!" Geet's lips curved up in a smile. "Feu-vert!" (Green light!) rejoiced Maan in his mind.
Geet Singh Khurana's routine task two- acting as a melting pot, watchfully blended in the innocence of her husband, as a consequence, constantly ending up in awe, thawing out all her hypothetical annoyance.
Her hands carefully swathed round his neck, she arched backwards after planting a supple peck on his cheeks only to be pulled back and swallowed up in his embrace, his soothing embrace.
"I just want to say that Mrs Khurana really loves Mr Khurana," Maan smirked at the view of Geet's shifting expressions.
"Oh, really? I don't think so," a smirk for a smirk.
"I... I think that..." Geet looked up to the impending sentence but Maan just left it hanging.
"That?" an edgy Geet added spontaneously only to receive back the so prominent smirk of Maan, "Can you keep that smirk away for a minute?" she added, irate.
"That... That..." Maan trailed off, amused by her response- she was really getting grumpy.
"Geet, look at me," it was an order and Geet could not refuse to meet his pair drowning pools, his eyes.
"Je t'aime, beaucoup," (I love you, a lot) said Maan smiling against her lips. Normally, ordinary people, in this normal situation would expect a "Je t'aime, aussi." (I love you too) or any other quixotic talk, but, Geet was incomparable, really incredibly exceptional.
"You have not yet brushed Maan! Yuck! How dare you? Yuck!" retorted back Geet.
"Are you crazy?" an immediate reply bounced off.
"You""
"Mom-Dad! I am here. Please, spare me your daily romance," Arush gagged, characteristically.
"He's doomed, for sure," garbled Maan, his eyes set on the ceiling.
"Aru! Quiet! Are you ready? Your dad is running late," Geet admonished him.
Geet Singh Khurana's routine task three- Butting inside the bathroom, toup court. (Simply[Correct fragment: Simply butting inside the bathroom])
"I am just coming out mom, one minute," rushed Arush, taking the toothpaste and applying it on the toothbrush sooner than brushing his teeth at full velocity.
"I'm counting till ten; one... two... three""
"Okay mom, I admit... I am brushing my teeth now; I... I am sorry," garbled Arush inaudibly.
"Should I barge in or you prefer simply opening the door?"
At the sound of a click, the door was broad open, divulging a cluttered Arush with toothpaste muddled all over his face and a tap with incessantly running water.
Geet Singh Khurana's routine task four- Monitoring her son while the latter was getting ready.
"Soap, Arush! Apply it well on your face, look how it's oily!" Arush's daily tussle with the soap was certainly notable. He never understood the purpose of a soap- it appeared to be like his mom at times; never sticking to one place, it always glided off his hands into the bathtub and constantly provoked loud hollers from his mom or at times it really seemed like *Vilgax', so wicked, always aiming at hurting his eyes, whenever daubed on his face.
Finally garbed in his cerulean uniform, his hair flawlessly combed, his white tie impeccably baggy on his chemise, his laces perfectly coupled over his shoes along with a wide smile spread over his face, Maan jittered down the stairs, settling himself contentedly on his favorite chair and finally purring some melodies, coolly.
"Half past eight," stated Maan, nattily attired in his formal ensemble, his hand round the waist of his wife, descending the flight of steps at his own pace.
It was the commencement.
The commencement of an additional magnificent day, in their life.
-Glossary:
Bonjour- Good Morning
Quel Beau Jour!- What a lovely day!
Omlette- A dish of beaten eggs cooked in a frying pan and served plain or with a savory or sweet topping or filling.
Au moins- Atleast
Maman- Mom
Feu-Vert- Green Light
Je t'aime, beaucoup- I love you a lot
Je t'aime, aussi- I love you too
Toup court- simply
Vilgax- A fictional character in a cartoon named Ben 10' who acts as the baddie in that explicit cartoon.
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