MiMi FF ~Banjaare Ka Ghar~ EDITED Ch1-4

Hey everyone! I have been following YHM since its inception, but have been too caught up in university to contribute to the forum.

But here I am now, with a fan fiction on Mihir and Mihika
I personally love these two characters for their straightforward personalities and realistic relationship struggles. I have also felt a tad disappointed that these two talented actors have not gotten as much screenspace as I hope for 😛 nvm there is always time in a daily soap 😉

Disclaimers:
I haven't planned on how many parts this is going to be but surely more than three parts I have already written in my overenthusiasm 😛

My mother tongue isn't Hindi although I comprehend it due to excessive television and movie watching 😆 so do excuse me for any errors and let me know 😊

The focus is on MiMi, but the story entails all YHM characters and their small stories 😊

There may be some mature content in the future, appropriate warnings will be given when the time comes!

Ok phew so the story starts at present in YHM land i.e. the night after Tilak. I present to you...~Banjaare Ka Ghar~

Chapter 1 on next post...sit tight and enjoy the ride, really hope it is likeable 😃

EDITED! (Sorry for the delay...Internet down 😭
Chapters 3, 4 are on Page 2 😊

_~~ Banjaare Ka Ghar _~~

Come Home to Love

Chapter 1

He slunk down on the sofa, beaten and defeated. He shut his eyes tight and held his head, trying to block out the events that had transpired today. Not even noticing that he had not switched on the lights in his tiny apartment, he sat there frozen, seemingly forever.

"I'm your sister!"

"I was just trying to secure my daughter's future!"

"Help me marry Ashok!"

The voices just wouldn't go away. He was exasperated. Today was supposed to be a happy day. His day. The day when he could finally move on from his past and start a new life. Today was the day he was getting a family. Finally, a family that would have truly been his. One he would have belonged to.

But none of that happened today.

Memories of the sleepless nights he had spent crying, feeling utterly lonely, flooded him.

His bitter truth had returned to slap him into reality. Who was he kidding? No matter how much he ran, his past caught up with him. He IS the son of an opportunistic and materialistic mother...one who placed wealth before values. He IS the brother of a woman who valued gifts over true love...one who even put her motherhood after money. A mocking smile played on his lips now.

Yes, who was he trying to fool? He shared a bloodline with such scheming lowlifes. Mihir ARORA. And worse of all,there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. He felt helpless. Like always.

Like the time his father had passed away suddenly, making the boy he was feel too useless to contribute anything to ease the financial burdens the family faced afterwards.

Like the time the puny teenager he was could not gather enough courage or strength to punch the faces of those who taunted him about his mother's alleged affair with her employer, the catering business owner Mr Prakash.

Like the time his mother sent him away to hostel as soon as he started his 11th standard, when all he wanted was for her to sit him down and reassure him. That he was smart...no, he wasn't too scrawny...that he was going to make it...that he might even get a girlfriend...yes of course he will get into a good course...that he will land a job and take care of his family. And that she was proud of him. Proud of her son.

Like the time he had ran all the way to the telephone booth outside his hostel to call Shagun at her university after receiving a letter from his mother, merely informing him that she had legally registered her marriage with Mr Prakash, and that he need not worry about anything. Or come home.

His sister had sounded indifferent, and told him that it was no big deal that she had remarried. And that she should have chosen her happiness much earlier.

He could not bring himself to ask her, his sister, if all those taunts about their mother's character years ago were indeed true. It was not about whether he could take 'Yes' as an answer, but the fear that Shagun might actually have known it for long was too much to take. He had quietly hung up and bolted to the bathroom to throw up.

Like the time Raman had called him and said in a choked voice, "Mihir...woh...woh...chali gayi. Adi ko bhi..mein Ruhi ko kaise..."

It was as if lightning had struck him. "Jiju mein abhi aaraha hoon" he had firmly replied and ended the call but he could not move an inch.

Raman was the father he lost, the brother he never had and the friend he had always wished for. And his sister had hurt him. Hurt him like no other, in the cruelest of ways possible. He felt like he had lost Raman, and all that he was to him, that very day. And all he could do was cry...cry for Raman, and with Raman.

Tears were now streaming down his face. He felt numb and devoid of any energy. He had had enough. Enough of running away. Of hiding. Of.lying to himself and the world. Of fighting every single day to belong. It was just enough.

The ring of the doorbell jarred into his thoughts.He did not get up to answer it. It rang again. And again. He sighed and wiped his tears as he trudged to the door and opened it.

There she stood. His eyes widened in disbelief.

"What in the world is wrong with you? What are you doing here?"

"Mihir please,I just wanted to see if you were ok"

"I don't believe this. Do you know what time it is?"he questioned.

"We didn't get a chance to talk properly. I really have no other way!"she pleaded.

"You're seriously " he started as she interrupted.

"Please now,just let me in!"

He stood flabbergasted as she pushed him aside and made her way into his living room. He mustered whatever energy left in him and took a deep breath to compose himself as he shut the door.

He turned to find her on the sofa, her face buried in her bag.

"See what I brought you and tell me if it reminds you of anything!" her muffled voice reached him as he stood with his mouth slightly agape, taking in the sight before him.

With a triumphant smile on her face and coffee shaker in hand, she emerged from her bag. "Coffee?" Mihika asked. Inadvertently, a small smile crept up on his face as he shook head, still in disbelief.

End of Chapter 1
:=A home filled with nothing but yourself. It's heavy, that lightness. It's
crushing, that emptiness. (Margaret Atwood, The Tent)=:

Story to be continued in Chapter 2. Feedback is always welcome! 😃

hi
Your ff is a very fresh thought compared to the tons of ishra os n ff on the forum!!!
Please do continue writing!!! N please PM me if possible...

Frankly speaking i too luv MiMi jodi coz of their very contrasting nature of luv, where the female counterpart is outspoken n daring while Mihir is our own budhu!!
Its something very cute, yet i find many people not liking it for some reason... anywaysss plsss doo continue writing!! 😊

wow...nice update...pls continue...pls pm me fr nxt part...

Mihika is bringing happy back happy memories with coffee shaker

EDITED
First of all, thank you so so much to all those who took time to read and comment :D I promise you all replies and PMs by tonight.
I wanted to type the next part out first, phew. Thank you again, hope it keeps you interested :)

_~~ Banjaare Ka Ghar _~~
Come Home to Love

Chapter 2

As he stood with a small smile staring at her silhouette, he suddenly realised how dark it was. He switched on the lights and walked up to the sofa, taking a seat beside her.

"Ayyo Mihir tumhara sangath ka asar hai mein bhi bhuddu ban gayi hoon! Mujhe strike hi nahi hua ki lights on karne chahiye!"she exclaimed, slapping her forehead.

"Ye sab chodo. Tum iss waqt yahan kya kar rahi ho Mihika? Time dekho raat ka teen bajne wale hain. Tum kaise aayi? Amma Appa ko pata hai?"he bombarded her with questions.

"Arre baba saans toh lelo! Auto se aayi hoon aur kaise? And tum pagal hai kya...kisi ko bhi nahi pata! Sab sone ke baat chupkese nikal gayi!"she replied. Now he was angry.

"Seriously Mihika?! Tumhe pata hai ki iss sheher mein ladkiyon ki safety ko next to no guarantee hain. Aur tum aaramse bol rahi ho ki tum itni raat ko akeli auto mein aayi thi? This is just not done Mihika. Kamse kam mujhe ek phone tho karthi? Mein lene aagaya hongana? It's just so irresponsible, kuch bhi hojata tho.."

"Wow. Excellent plan, call you?"she snapped. "Pehle batao tumhara phone kahan hain?"

"Kahan hain matlab kya?"he asked, fishing it out of his pocket, only to find its battery had died.

He looked apologetically back at Mihika as she went on.

"Tumhe idea bhi hain mein kitni worried thi? Aaj itna sab kuch hua aur tumhara phone bandh tha? Aur tumhara wo stupid landline ko Monday hi repair karne keliye kahi thi na mein? Mujhe irresponsible bol rahe ho? Soch soch ke pareshaan hokar yahan aayi hoon. Neeche tumhara car dekhi tab chain mili mujhe...pata hai kaisi kaisi kayal mann mein aarahi thi? Not fair Mihir!" Her eyes had welled up.

A wave of guilt hit him as he slid down to face her, on his knees now. "Baby I'm really really sorry. Mujhe sach mein dhyaan hi nahi tha. I know mein tumhe bohot pareshaan kiya. Maaf kar do, please? Please?" He was holding his ears now and looked at her. Her eyes were downcast, as she sniffled.

"Chalo. Chodo. coffee chahiye ya nahi?"she asked.

Mihir held her hands in his and spoke softly. "Ab please mujhe maaf kar do! Maine bola na I am truly very sorry!" Mihika looked into his eyes and blinked back her tears. She cupped his face, noticing the dried streaks of tears and tired lines around his eyes. She closed her eyes and sighed a little,then smiled.

"Arre meri bhuddu, jaa. Kiya maaf. Khush?"she said as she ruffled his hair and continued, "Waise bhi rona dhona and all doesn't suit me at all...ab itni door aayi hoon tho meri saath coffee piyega ya nahi?"she demanded.

He touched her hands holding his face and replied, "Of course. Sirf coffee nahi, tumhari favourite ginger snaps bhi!"

"Ginger snaps? Tum lekar aaya Mihir? Pehle bol diya hotha...mein abhi jaakar coffee bana lethi hoon" she jumped up excitedly and ran to the kitchen like a kid.

He chuckled to himself. She had always loved food. In fact, it was one of the first few things he had noticed about Mihika. Ms Mihika Iyer.

As he sat down, looking at her moving around the kitchen, the memories of their first meeting came back to him, like they happened yesterday.

<Two years ago>
Mihir was at a conference on youth entrepreneurship. He was representing Raman's company, that was quickly growing into a power to reckon with, in the food products' sector. It was to be a four day affair that had just begun. It was the first of its kind in the city, and Raman had given Mihir the opportunity to represent his firm.

After all the welcome speeches, the presentations of final year MBA students started. One by one, the students presented their research papers and projects. Admittedly, it was boring for the most part. The only moment when the audience showed any sign of excitement was when an exceptionally beautiful participant from Ahmedabad walked up to present her project. She looked like she was straight out of a fashion magazine, from her perfect hairdo to her flawless makeup to her edgy clothing. Her presentation was good as well, not that many noticed, as most seemed too enthralled by her beauty to hear much of it.

Everyone clapped as all the presentations finally ended, and waited for the results to be announced.

Fifteen minutes later, the prize presentation began, with the girl from Ahmedabad, Puja Patel as he now knew, was awarded the first prize. As the applause died down, he heard a female voice from the row immediately behind him.

"Ye tho expected thi. Itni khoobsurat hai..judges tho bina sun kar bhi prize denge. Uski dress dekhi? Yahan fashion show chal rahi hai ya conference? Gosh." She sounded annoyed.

"Shut up yaar! Kuch bhi bolti ho! pehle tumhari attitude ko dekho! Jab ek ladki ko success milti hain why does it always have to be because of everything except her talent and hard work? Woh achi dikhti hain so what? Agar ladki hokar bhi tum aisi baatein karti ho tho what faith can we have in others? Woh deserving thi tho woh jeet gayi. Please tum iss tarah ki gatiya mentality tumhara zehense nikaalo. Seriously." shot down another voice immediately.

Now,Mihir was intrigued.

He looked back at the huffing female. She was wearing the simplest of salwar kameezes, with plain gold studs on her ears. Her face, with barely any make up on it save for lipstick and kajal,was now scrunched up in a frown. She had worn the lanyard given by the organisers. "Ms Mihika Iyer, 1st year MBA, Chennai", it read.

"Ok Ok relax girls. Now that the ceremony is over, can we please go to the paani puri stall on the opposite road? We can only make it back in time for the workshops later if we start now!" a bespectacled male friend of hers in the same row spoke up.

Her face immediately brightened up, her frown now replaced with a huge smile. "Paani puri? Acha kaam karne main deri kis baat ki? Hurry up, let's go!"

He smiled to himself as he saw the small group make their way out through the back door.

--

Yes,how he wished yesterday was exactly like that. He had the same smile on his face as he stared lovingly at Mihika.

In the kitchen, Mihika had already gotten the plates out and put the ginger snaps on them. She then opened the cabinet to grab the packet of Mihir's favourite Nescafe brew, when she was surprised to see what lay hidden behind it.

End of Chapter 2

:= I had spent my whole life feeling homesick. The only difference between the two of us was that I didn't know what or where home was.
(Marian Keyes, Lucy Sullivan Is Getting Married) =:

wow yar...nice meeting...frst meeting was awesome...p me if poss...

That was a real nicely written piece n u explained things beautifully... comprehensive n lucid... loved it... thanks soo much...

was rlly curious to read a story on mi mi...nd here it is...
thnks 4 it yrr...
pls update soon n pm me wen u update...

_~~ Banjaare Ka Ghar _~~

Come Home to Love

Chapter 3
(Previously: She then opened the cabinet to grab the packet of Mihir's favourite Nescafe brew, when she was surprised to see what lay hidden behind it.)

Her eyes grew wide. "No way he would have..." she exclaimed, bringing down both items of her interest.

One was his favourite cold coffee brew that he could wax lyrical about even for a whole day, if given the chance.

The other, incredibly, was a small packet of Narasu's, an authentic South Indian filter coffee blend. A huge smile broke out on her face as she muttered, "ye kya abhi se Tamil hone ka practice shuru?" she giggled and started making the cold coffee.

While she was shaking the coffee, she looked around for tall glasses in the drawers. The first drawer was stocked with North Indian foodstuff and even a belan. She grinned and opened the next drawer, to find her and Mihir's favourite pasta and pasta sauces. "Mr Label Arora, drawers by cuisine?" she thought to herself. Curious, she moved to open another drawer, to find another surprise.

It had been filled with South Indian groceries including masala powders and ready to eat dishes. There was even a small Idli cooker, with plate moulds. And a coffee filter with silver coffee tumbler sets just like the ones at home.

At that moment, she felt incredibly lucky. This man had thought she would miss home, miss homemade food here. He had started to try the filter coffee she couldn't do without in the mornings. He had so willingly accepted and welcomed her and her likes into his life. This man had made her a home - their home.

She wiped the lone tear forming at the edge of her eye and thought back to the first memory she had of her Mihir.

<Two years ago>
It was the second day of a conference at Delhi that Mihika was attending with some of her classmates. It was only her first semester in MBA, and she had thought that it would be a good experience. The first day had been a tad boring and long, with many speeches and workshops. The second day, though, was something she was looking forward to as there were industrial visits scheduled.

As the groupings were revealed, she was relieved to know that one of her classmates, Chitra, was with her. They had been assigned to go to PSR Foods, mentoring under a certain Mr Mihir Arora. None in her group of 5 students were from Delhi but they managed to navigate their way to PSR Foods, thanks to a very helpful and detailed handout by their mentor that was passed to them.

As they were ushered into the conference room of the PSR Foods' factory, a rather thin and not so tall man walked in.

"Hi everyone! I am Mihir...Mihir Arora, from PSR Foods. We are extremely pleased to be able to play a part in your education today. As you all know, as part of this conference, we have committed to opening our doors to aspiring young entrepreneurs like yourselves to experience the workings of one of the fastest growing food companies, and learn from it. I will not bore you with a long speech...our CEO Mr Raman Kumar Bhalla certainly believes actions speak louder than words. So let me know if there are any questions. If not, we will start the factory trip and meet for group discussion after lunch. Have you all gotten the discussion questions from my staff?"he asked. Everyone nodded and went off to start the guided tour of the factory.

Few hours had gone by and lunchtime had arrived. Mihika was starving after all the walking. She brisk walked to the table with their packed lunches. As she reached the table, her face fell as her worst fear came true. There was no vegetarian food. But of course. Administrators always had a problem remembering dietary preferences. She scowled. "So much for a food company!" she sulked and sat down with Chitra, watching her relish the plate of Naan with butter chicken. She gulped down water from her bottle.

"Hello again everyone! Are you all enjoying your lunch? I hope you all don't mind me joining you all. I'm Punjabi you see and it's hard for us to stay away from butter chicken!"he joked as the rest laughed and made space for him. Settling down with his plate, he must have noticed the odd one out, the one with her back facing him and no food. Concerned, he had asked "Excuse me Miss! Sorry, aap kaana nahi kaa rahi ho?"

Mihika, who was dreaming about the black and white clock in front of her transforming into a giant plate of idli with yummy coconut chutney, was brought out of her thoughts by the question. She turned to face him and replied, "Sorry were you talking to me?"
She noticed his eyes widen just a bit, as if he recognised her. Or maybe she was just too hungry to notice anything correctly, let alone human body language.

He spoke again. "Ya I see that you haven't taken any food. Is there any problem? Are you feeling ok?"

His genuine concern touched her and she shook her head. "No, nothing at all. It's just that I'm vegetarian. I had mentioned it on the forms but such things happen all the time. It's really ok." She hadn't finished before he shot right out of his seat and came to her.

"Oh God I am extremely sorry, Ms Iyer! My staff should have rechecked with you. Just give me 20 minutes, I will arrange food for you!" he promised and rushed out.

She was surprised, to say the least. "How did he know her name? Gosh he must have memorised the list of all their names...only if he had memorised dietary preferences as well, "she sighed, then chided herself.

"Mihika, this guy works in such a big company and has no need to apologise for the conference organiser's error, forget being understanding and making amends. He certainly is a gentleman" she thought to herself.

Sometime later, he entered the room again and what he had in his hands made Mihika want to run up to him and give him a bear hug...he had bought Masala Dosa from a South Indian restaurant!
"Mr Arora, thank you so much! I mean, really, you didn't have to!" she said with a huge grin on her face.
He smiled as well, and said, "Please call me Mihir. And do enjoy your lunch. We'll start the discussion in about half an hour, hope that will be enough time to finish your lunch!"

He then rejoined the rest, asking them questions about their colleges and interests outside of college. He also shared stories from his MBA days. With a smile that had now surfaced despite her hunger, Mihika wolfed down the dosa, occasionally looking up to see Mr Arora, oops, Mihir laughing and joking with the rest.

"Arre Mihiku kuch tho sharam kar! Pehle der raat mein mera ghar mein gussi ab yeh kya kar rahi ho? Mein jaanta hoon ki mein bohot handsome hoon par itna gooregi tho nazar lag jayaga! Aur mera coffee ka saara ice bhi melt hojayaga!" teased Mihir, stretching his legs and leaning back on the sofa now. Brushing off her thoughts, Mihika laughed. "Bakwaas" she rolled her eyes and commented, pouring the coffee into the glasses before bringing the tray out.

End of Chapter 3
:= Home is where my habits have a habitat (Fiona Apple) =: