IPKKND:The'TeriMeri'Series OS1 P74/OS2 P78/OS3 P83 - Page 37

"You need to get some rest ma'am," I heard Saro tell me.

I responded nothing and simply checked my watch for the time. Past 11 p.m. I pondered upon it for a moment before I decided that Saro was right. I nodded. She saw me getting up and I noticed a smile forming on her face. Positively content of my choice of employee, I wordlessly left my cabin and trotted off to my scooter.

"How was your day," I heard my friend, talking chirpily with her mouth full of her food. If it wasn't for my 19 year old friendship with Anjali, all I would have been able to make out was a bunch of uncategorized guttural sounds.

"Nothing extraordinary," I told her.

"Kies. Come, try this. Bua made it. It's so amazing," Anjali said, happily shoving the plate towards me. I chuckled at her excitement and took a bit not to disappoint her.

"Mmm," I pronounced Bua's butter chicken as ultra-delicious. Bua, in Hindi means your father's sister and although Bua wasn't mine or Anjali's in the true sense, we had heard her real life niece calling her so when we were kids and we repeated them on her without any knowledge of what it meant. And Bua never bothered to correct us and so today even after all these years, we still addressed her 'Bua'.

As though to live a century, Bua walked into our room.

"You kids wash up soon. I will lay the dinner. Others have already gone to bed. Come soon. Kay," she said, folding my jeans and racking it into my wardrobe.

"Bua, you go to sleep. It's already so late. We will eat and wash up ourselves," I said and Anjali nodded vigorously, her butter chicken still melting her mouth.

"Nah! I know you both. You will eat little as long as I don't serve it for you. Nope, come soon," Bua said with finality waving off all our protests. She had her own set of rights upon us and we had learnt long ago that we would rather keep her to them. So I bucked up and quickly took my shower, while Anjali cleansed her face on the other side with the shower curtain parting us. Like me, Anjali too had just returned from work.

Anjali was a doctor by degree but a scientist by actual profession. She had acquired a soft heart for kids with AIDs for no fault of their when she went for training in her 4^th year. Ever since, she has been raving about how she will be the first to find a cure for them. If not completely, at least to prolong their lives healthily rather than just painlessly. I admired her for her belief i reaching something as far as that and secretly kept the fulfilment of her success in my prayers.

Quarter an hour later, we were down in our kitchen. Although we had a dining room at 'The Nest' to accommodate its 26 occupants, Anjali's and my favourite place remained loyal to the cosy 4 chaired breakfast table in the kitchen. It was old and it was rusty but we loved it for the memories attached to it. It was there where Bua fed us both long before the dinner table was brought in. And now seated on the creaky chairs, playing with our hands as the smell of the delicious parathas reached our noses, we grew impatient. And Bua never brought items one by one. She liked bringing in everything together.

Anjali and I began our professional conversation in the meantime.

"I don't know, Khushi. We are still stuck on almost the same position for 2 months. All the new proportions we are trying out are just not working. It's beginning to show on all of us," she said, her features drooping.

I smacked her for being ridiculous. "Oye! You have reached this far. You just need to give it some time and think over from the beginning. There are chances you will find the flow smoother," I said, clouded with heavy doubt as to what I was saying. I wondered if connecting management with science especially medicine related was a taboo. Nevertheless, since I received a lovely nod from Anjali, I halted my thoughts.

"Bua, enough. I am bursting," I whined as Bua placed the 5^th paratha on my plate.

"Eat now, it's ages since you have had a full dinner. Whenever I see you, you are either hooked onto a file or killing your ears with that cell of yours," Bua complained nonchalantly.

I made a face and placed the paratha myself just so that I would not have to fight another battle of words with Bua on my hectic schedule. Anjali, on the other hand, never received any of Bua's eat-or-die threats because she was always one paratha ahead. Anjie's bottomless tummy always took me by surprise and although I am a foodie, my limits were limits and hers would astonish anyone. Anjie helped herself with her 7^th paratha while I obliged Bua my 5^th, much to my Bua's satisfaction.

A few hours later, we tucked ourselves to bed after I dragged my heavy body right past the stairs. Anjie and I shared a bed and although we begun a conversation fighting over the crankiest topics, sleep overtook our overworked bodies instantly.

"You need to get some rest ma'am," I heard Saro tell me.

I responded nothing and simply checked my watch for the time. Past 11 p.m. I pondered upon it for a moment before I decided that Saro was right. I nodded. She saw me getting up and I noticed a smile forming on her face. Positively content of my choice of employee, I wordlessly left my cabin and trotted off to my scooter.

"How was your day," I heard my friend, talking chirpily with her mouth full of her food. If it wasn't for my 19 year old friendship with Muskaan, all I would have been able to make out was a bunch of uncategorized guttural sounds.

"Nothing extraordinary," I told her.

"Kies. Come, try this. Bua made it. It's so amazing," Muskaan said, happily shoving the plate towards me. I chuckled at her excitement and took a bit not to disappoint her.

"Mmm," I pronounced Bua's butter chicken as ultra-delicious. Bua, in Hindi means your father's sister and although Bua wasn't mine or Muskaan's in the true sense, we had heard her real life niece calling her so when we were kids and we repeated them on her without any knowledge of what it meant. And Bua never bothered to correct us and so today even after all these years, we still addressed her 'Bua'.

As though to live a century, Bua walked into our room.

"You kids wash up soon. I will lay the dinner. Others have already gone to bed. Come soon. Kay," she said, folding my jeans and racking it into my wardrobe.

"Bua, you go to sleep. It's already so late. We will eat and wash up ourselves," I said and Muskaan nodded vigorously, her butter chicken still melting her mouth.

"Nah! I know you both. You will eat little as long as I don't serve it for you. Nope, come soon," Bua said with finality waving off all our protests. She had her own set of rights upon us and we had learnt long ago that we would rather keep her to them. So I bucked up and quickly took my shower, while Muskaan cleansed her face on the other side with the shower curtain parting us. Like me, Muskaan too had just returned from work.

Muskaan was a doctor by degree but a scientist by actual profession. She had acquired a soft heart for kids with AIDs for no fault of their when she went for training in her 4^th year. Ever since, she has been raving about how she will be the first to find a cure for them. If not completely, at least to prolong their lives healthily rather than just painlessly. I admired her for her belief i reaching something as far as that and secretly kept the fulfilment of her success in my prayers.

Quarter an hour later, we were down in our kitchen. Although we had a dining room at 'The Nest' to accommodate its 26 occupants, Muskaan's and my favourite place remained loyal to the cosy 4 chaired breakfast table in the kitchen. It was old and it was rusty but we loved it for the memories attached to it. It was there where Bua fed us both long before the dinner table was brought in. And now seated on the creaky chairs, playing with our hands as the smell of the delicious parathas reached our noses, we grew impatient. And Bua never brought items one by one. She liked bringing in everything together.

Muski and I began our professional conversation in the meantime.

"I don't know, Geet. We are still stuck on almost the same position for 2 months. All the new proportions we are trying out are just not working. It's beginning to show on all of us," she said, her features drooping.

I smacked her for being ridiculous. "Oye! You have reached this far. You just need to give it some time and think over from the beginning. There are chances you will find the flow smoother," I said, clouded with heavy doubt as to what I was saying. I wondered if connecting management with science especially medicine related was a taboo. Nevertheless, since I received a lovely nod from Muskaan, I halted my thoughts.

"Bua, enough. I am bursting," I whined as Bua placed the 5^th paratha on my plate.

"Eat now, it's ages since you have had a full dinner. Whenever I see you, you are either hooked onto a file or killing your ears with that cell of yours," Bua complained nonchalantly.

I made a face and placed the paratha myself just so that I would not have to fight another battle of words with Bua on my hectic schedule. Muskaan, on the other hand, never received any of Bua's eat-or-die threats because she was always one paratha ahead. Muski's bottomless tummy always took me by surprise and although I am a foodie, my limits were limits and hers would astonish anyone. Muski helped herself with her 7^th paratha while I obliged Bua my 5^th, much to my Bua's satisfaction.

A few hours later, we tucked ourselves to bed after I dragged my heavy body right past the stairs. Muski and I shared a bed and although we begun a conversation fighting over the crankiest topics, sleep overtook our overworked bodies instantly.