Description
Ever since she was nineteen👧🏻, she'd lived in New York, but actually born in India. Her heart still beat somewhere between Bollywood dramas🎭 and stubborn rebellion. A tomboy girl 😎by choice and a desi girl by rare occasion, she preferred sneakers 👟over sandals👠 and hoodies over heavy dupattas. Her mother often sighed dramatically, "Who will marry a girl like you?? At least wear a salwar kameez(An Indian outfit generally wore by females) once before I die!!" After coming to India, One morning, after taking unexpected early bath, she was wrapped in one of those rare traditional moods, she stood by the tulsi plant on the balcony, hands joined, eyes closed, whispering a prayer into the early sunlight. Just then....thud!! A rolled-up newspaper came flying like a missile, smacking her straight on the arm. Startled, she gasped. The kumkum plate tipped over, spilling a bright red stain across her neatly draped dupatta. Furious, she snatched the newspaper and stormed to the edge of the balcony, eyes hunting for the reckless culprit. And there he was, the newspaper boy, standing still, staring up at her. Their eyes locked, as time forgot to move. In that single glance, between spilled kumkum and sharp scolding words that never left her lips, something unexpected took root..... something interesting about to happen.....
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