Chapter 1 - Ladoo
There had never really been a Khurana family without the Handas, or a Handa family without the Khuranas. Their friendship had started long before their children were born, back when Rajveer Khurana and Mohinder Handa had been two ambitious young men trying to establish themselves in industries where reputation mattered almost as much as talent.
Rajveer had built Khurana Architects from a modest architectural practice into one of Delhi’s most respected firms, specialising in luxury residential developments, hotels and commercial spaces, while Mohinder had taken a different route by building Handa Developments into a successful property development and construction company. Rajveer designed the buildings, while Mohinder brought them to life, and although that arrangement should have turned them into competitors eventually, it instead became the foundation of their partnership.
Over the years, the Khurana and Handa names appeared beside one another on countless projects, with Rajveer’s company handling the architectural vision, planning and design while Mohinder’s company managed development, construction and delivery. Somewhere between late-night meetings, impossible deadlines, successful projects and enough disagreements to last several lifetimes, the two men had become closer than business partners. Their wives had followed almost naturally.
Avantika Khurana had never been interested in sitting at home simply because her husband was successful, so she built her own name as a fashion designer and eventually opened boutiques under her label, becoming known for elegant Indian clothing that combined traditional craftsmanship with modern designs.
Pammi Handa was equally incapable of remaining idle, and her love for cooking, which had begun inside her own kitchen, eventually grew into a catering company that handled everything from intimate celebrations to enormous weddings and corporate events.
The women became best friends in their own right, and when their children began arriving, the bond between the two families only grew stronger. Maan was the first, followed by Yash and then Aditya, while Meera came next and Geet arrived last, three years after Maan.
Aditya was Geet’s cousin, the son of Pammi’s brother. After his parents died when he was young, Mohinder and Pammi had brought him into their home and raised him as their own. He had grown up alongside Geet, Yash, Maan and Meera, and although everyone knew he was Geet’s cousin, nobody treated him as anything less than a brother.
Geet was the youngest and the loudest, and according to Maan Singh Khurana, she was unquestionably the most irritating person he had ever met, although he had been saying that since they were old enough to understand him.
Their parents had raised them almost as one extended family, which meant that weekends blurred between the Khurana and Handa homes, holidays were planned together, birthdays involved both families and there were spare clothes, forgotten toothbrushes and bedrooms that the children entered without knocking because the idea of asking permission had disappeared years ago.
Rajveer and Mohinder could be demanding businessmen outside their homes, but neither brought that coldness back to their children. Rajveer might spend twelve hours arguing over a multimillion-pound development, only to return home and listen to Meera give him a detailed explanation of an argument she had with her friend as though nothing in his day had been more important.
Mohinder was exactly the same. Meetings could wait if Yash needed him, and calls could be ignored when Geet climbed onto his lap demanding his attention.
Avantika and Pammi were no different. Although their careers mattered to them, their children never questioned whether they mattered more.
Perhaps that was why the five of them had grown up so secure in one another, or perhaps, in Geet and Maan’s case, they had simply become secure enough to torment each other without mercy.
“Move, ladoo.”
Nine-year-old Geet Handa stopped halfway through taking another spoonful of kheer and slowly turned her head towards Maan, who stood behind her with his arms folded across his chest.
At twelve, Maan already possessed an irritating amount of confidence. He was taller than most boys his age, serious when he wanted to be and far too convinced that he knew better than everyone around him. Teachers adored him because he was intelligent, adults praised him because he was responsible and his father trusted him because Maan rarely needed telling anything twice.
Geet thought they had all been fooled because she knew the truth: Maan Singh Khurana was horrible.
She narrowed her eyes, deliberately took another enormous spoonful and pointed towards the table.
“There is space.”
“There isn’t,” Maan insisted. “Not when you’re standing there.”
Yash immediately started laughing from the dining table, while Aditya covered his mouth, already knowing what was coming. Meera looked up from her book with a sigh.
“Maan, leave Geet alone,” she said.
“I haven’t done anything,” Maan replied innocently as he reached around Geet for a glass.
Geet deliberately moved so he could not reach it. When Maan shifted in the opposite direction, she blocked him again.
“Geet.”
“Maan.”
“Move.”
“No.”
His eyes narrowed.
“You’re taking up the whole table.”
Geet gasped and turned towards Yash with an indignant cry.
“Bhai!”
Yash raised both hands immediately.
“Don’t involve me.”
“He called me fat again!” Geet accused.
“I didn’t call you fat,” Maan corrected as he finally managed to reach the glass. “I said you’re taking up the whole table, and you decided what that meant.”
Aditya burst out laughing, which made Geet turn towards him with her mouth open in disbelief.
“What?”
Aditya attempted to look innocent between laughs.
“He has a point.”
“You are all horrible,” Geet declared before shoving another spoonful of kheer into her mouth.
Maan stared at her bowl.
“Is that your third serving?”
Geet pulled it protectively against her chest.
“Why are you counting?”
“I’m concerned for the kheer,” he replied.
Yash nearly choked on his drink.
“Maan!” Meera complained as she threw a cushion at her brother.
He caught it easily with one hand.
Geet glared at all three boys before looking down at herself, because she knew she was bigger than Meera and everyone else knew it too.
Geet had always been a chubby child, with round cheeks, a soft little stomach and an appetite that Pammi claimed could single-handedly keep her catering company profitable. She loved food, hated running unless somebody was chasing her and considered any game involving unnecessary physical effort a personal attack.
Usually, she did not care because she liked herself, although she liked food even more. Unfortunately, the boys had discovered very early that her weight was the easiest way to annoy her, and Maan was by far the worst.
“One day I’m going to become very skinny,” Geet announced as she pointed her spoon at him. “Then what will you call me?”
Maan considered the question seriously.
“Short.”
Geet stared at him while Meera laughed and quickly hid her face behind her book when Geet turned towards her.
“You too?”
“Sorry,” Meera mumbled, still laughing.
Geet placed her bowl down dramatically.
“Nobody loves me in this house.”
“Who doesn’t love my princess?” Mohinder asked as he walked into the dining room.
Geet’s entire expression transformed.
“Papa!”
She ran towards him, and Mohinder barely had time to put his briefcase aside before she crashed into him and wrapped both arms around his waist.
“Maan is bullying me,” she informed him.
Mohinder looked over her head towards Maan.
“Again?”
“I wasn’t bullying her, Uncle,” Maan replied.
“He called me ladoo.”
Mohinder’s lips twitched, but Geet pulled away immediately and accused him of laughing.
“I’m not.”
“You are!”
Mohinder quickly controlled his expression and cupped her round face between his hands.
“Nobody is laughing at my beautiful girl.”
Maan made a coughing sound behind them, which caused Geet to narrow her eyes while Mohinder pointed towards him without looking.
“Leave my daughter alone.”
“Tell her to stop eating my mother’s kheer.”
“It’s Auntie’s kheer,” Geet snapped as she returned to the table. “Not yours.”
“My house.”
“My auntie.”
“My mother.”
“She loves me more.”
That made Maan pause, and Avantika chose that exact moment to enter the room.
Geet immediately ran towards her.
“Auntie, who do you love more, me or Maan?”
Avantika looked between them while Maan stared at his mother with a warning expression.
“Choose carefully.”
Avantika smiled sweetly.
“Geet.”
Maan stared at her in disbelief while Geet squealed in triumph.
Avantika kissed Geet’s forehead before looking at her son.
“Geet doesn’t argue with me.”
“She argues with everyone!”
“Not me.”
“Because you feed her!”
Geet’s victory disappeared as she shouted Maan’s name, but he was already running.
“Maan!”
Geet chased him around the dining table while Yash and Aditya shouted encouragement that changed sides every few seconds.
Meera attempted to continue reading for approximately twenty seconds before giving up when Geet grabbed one of the cushions and launched it towards Maan.
The cushion missed Maan completely and hit Rajveer instead.
The entire room went silent as Rajveer stood at the entrance with the cushion at his feet.
Geet and Maan froze. Yash immediately looked down, Aditya suddenly found the ceiling fascinating and Meera hid behind her book.
Rajveer looked at the cushion before slowly lifting his gaze towards the children.
“Who?”
Maan pointed at Geet, while Geet pointed at Maan.
“He moved!” Geet defended herself.
“She threw it!”
“Because you called me fat!”
“I called you ladoo.”
“Same thing!”
Rajveer stared at them for several seconds before shaking his head.
“I’m going back to work.”
Avantika laughed as her husband turned around. Rajveer muttered to Mohinder as he passed him,
“Take me with you. We’ll sleep at the office.”
Mohinder followed him while laughing.
“You say that every weekend.”
“And every weekend I mean it,” Rajveer replied.
Their voices disappeared down the hallway while the children immediately resumed arguing, because it had always been like that.
Maan and Yash were best friends despite being from different families, while Aditya had attached himself to both of them so completely that nobody remembered a time when he had not been around. He was Geet’s cousin, but he was also her brother in every way that mattered.
Meera and Geet were the same. Although there were other friends at school, other cousins and other people who came and went, Meera was Geet’s person. They shared everything, including clothes, secrets, food, homework and punishments, as well as the blame whenever only one of them had actually done something wrong.
There were occasions when their alliances shifted. Meera would betray Geet for Maan when she wanted something from her brother, Yash would defend Geet until she annoyed him and then hand her directly over to Maan, while Aditya remained loyal to whoever was most entertaining at the time.
But Maan and Geet were different because their relationship had never required an alliance. They simply existed in one another’s space.
He annoyed her because he could, while she followed him because she knew it annoyed him. He hid her chocolates, she changed the alarm on his phone, he pulled her plaits, she told Avantika when he swore, he called her ladoo and she called him Dusht Danav after hearing the phrase in one of Pammi’s television serials and deciding that no description had ever suited another human being better.
Somewhere amongst all of it was an attachment neither of them noticed because it had existed for too long to require explanation.
If Geet fell, she called for Maan almost as quickly as she called for Yash. If Maan came to the Handa house while Geet was absent, he noticed.
If somebody outside their group laughed at her weight, Maan’s amusement disappeared. He could call her ladoo, but nobody else could.
Geet discovered that distinction when she was eleven.
They were leaving school one afternoon when two older boys walked past them, and one of them muttered,
“Move, fatty.”
Geet stopped.
The word itself was not new because Maan said worse almost every day, but hearing it from a stranger felt different, so she moved quietly.
The boy managed two steps before Maan caught his shoulder.
“What did you call her?”
Geet looked up while the boy turned around.
“What?”
“You heard me,” Maan replied.
His voice had changed because there was no teasing now and no smirk.
Yash immediately moved closer while Aditya muttered,
“Here we go.”
The boy looked towards Geet and laughed.
“I told her to move, fatty.”
Maan shoved him hard.
“Maan!” Geet exclaimed as the boy stumbled backwards.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” the boy snapped.
“Apologise.”
“For what?”
Maan stepped forward again.
“Apologise to her.”
Yash caught his arm before the situation became worse.
“Leave it, Maan.”
“No.”
Geet stared at him in complete confusion because this was the same boy who had called her ladoo before breakfast and had once rolled an actual round ladoo-shaped ball towards her while telling everyone that he had found her twin.
Yet his face now looked thunderous because somebody else had said one word.
The older boy eventually muttered an apology, more interested in leaving than continuing the argument, and Maan watched him disappear before turning around.
Geet folded her arms.
“You’re mental.”
Maan frowned.
“What does that mean?”
“You call me fat all the time.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“Because it is.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“It doesn’t have to.”
Geet stared at him before looking towards Meera.
“Your brother has problems.”
Meera nodded solemnly.
“We’ve known for years, bhai.”
Maan glared at his sister while Geet smiled despite herself.
She did not understand Maan then, and perhaps Maan did not understand himself either.
At twelve and fifteen, they still existed comfortably inside the roles childhood had given them. Geet was the noisy, round-faced menace who ate from everybody’s plate and somehow still complained that she was starving, while Maan was the controlled, intelligent and arrogant boy who believed responsibility had somehow made him an authority over everyone three years younger than him.
He expected Geet to remain exactly as she was: his ladoo, his favourite person to annoy and the girl who would run behind him demanding that he explain her maths homework after spending twenty minutes insisting that she hated him.
He did not know that Geet Handa was already beginning to change, and the first change had nothing to do with her weight.
It happened over a maths paper.
Geet stared at the large red 42% written across the top and felt something unfamiliar settle inside her, especially when she noticed that Meera, sitting beside her, had scored 78.
Geet did not feel jealous; she felt embarrassed. Not because anybody laughed, since nobody did, but because she knew she had not tried.
She had spent the previous evening watching television, ignored Meera’s messages asking whether she wanted to revise and told herself that she was simply bad at maths because that was what everybody expected from her anyway.
Then she had failed again.
Meera leaned closer and promised that they would study together for the next test.
“Properly,” she added, holding out her little finger. “I’ll help you with maths, and you help me with English.”
Geet linked their fingers.
“Deal.”
That afternoon, Maan arrived at the Handa house with Aditya while looking for Yash, but instead he found the girls at the dining table with books covering almost every inch of it.
Maan stopped, but Geet did not look up.
He walked further into the room, yet she still did not react, even though she usually noticed him before he had removed his shoes.
“Where’s Yash?” he asked.
“Upstairs,” Meera replied as she highlighted something in her textbook.
Maan glanced towards Geet, who was staring at an equation with such concentration that her brows had pulled together.
“What are you doing?”
“Maths.”
Maan almost laughed.
“Are you doing it voluntarily?”
Geet finally looked at him without outrage, a dramatic insult or a cushion thrown at his head.
“Yes,” she replied before looking back down.
Maan stood there for a second longer than necessary.
“Why?”
“Because I got 42%.”
He waited for the excuse, but it did not come. Instead, Geet erased something and tried the equation again.
“I want 80 next time.”
Maan’s amusement faded slightly as he leaned over the table and examined her calculation.
“That’s wrong.”
Geet’s pencil stopped.
Maan pointed towards the middle of the equation.
“You changed the sign. That’s why the answer is wrong.”
Geet looked at the calculation again.
“Oh.”
She erased it.
Maan expected her to hand him the pencil, but she did not. Instead, she corrected the sign herself and continued working until she reached the answer a minute later.
Her entire face brightened.
“Meera, I got it!”
Meera looked over.
“You did?”
“I got it!”
They slapped their hands together while Maan watched them.
Then Geet finally glanced towards him.
“Thanks.”
She returned to her work two seconds later.
Maan straightened because something about it bothered him, although he could not explain what.
Perhaps it was because she had not asked him to stay. Perhaps it was because she had not begged him to teach her. Or perhaps it was because, for the first time, Geet seemed perfectly content figuring something out without him.
He dismissed the thought and headed upstairs to find Yash while Geet bent over her book again.
She did not know yet that 42% would irritate her enough to change the way she approached school, nor did she know that studying with Meera would become part of her routine.
She also did not know that months later she would stand in front of her wardrobe, tired of clothes never fitting the way she wanted, and decide that she wanted to become healthier too.
She would not do it because Maan called her ladoo, because boys laughed or because she wanted somebody to find her beautiful. She would do it for herself.
Geet Handa had spent most of her childhood allowing everyone else to decide who she was: the funny one, the chubby one, the lazy one, the hopeless student or Maan’s ladoo.
She would not remain any of them forever.
And Maan Singh Khurana, who thought he knew Geet better than almost anyone, would be the person least prepared for the girl she was about to become.
Hi, I hope you have enjoyed this. I shall try to post another chapter soon.
Edited by ChandlerBong - 32 minutes ago
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