[69]FAMILY
AFTER 3 YEARS,
monsoon season, three years later
The sky outside was a heavy grey, rain pounding the courtyard in thick sheets, thunder rumbling like distant drums.
The living room smelled of wet earth carried in on the wind and the faint sweetness of the gulab jamun cooling on the kitchen counter.
Amisha sat on the large central sofa like a fireball ready to explode.
Her seven-month baby bump was prominent under her loose cotton kurti, making her look both fierce and radiant.
One hand rested on the bump, the other tapping impatiently on the armrest.
She heard the chaos before she saw it.
Wet footsteps.
Giggles.
Muddy squelches.
Then they appeared at the doorway.
First the kids:
Aviraj (three years old, the ringleader) - completely covered in mud from head to toe, hair plastered to his forehead, white kurta now brown, grinning like he'd won a war.
Krish (two years old, Mihir and Karishma's son) - toddling behind, equally filthy, mud on his cheeks like war paint, clutching a muddy toy truck.
Yug (six months younger than Aviraj, Shatish and Shushila's little one) - waddling in last, mud up to his knees, face smeared, but trying to look innocent.
Then the men:
Abhiraj, Mihir, and Shatish - all soaked from the rain, clothes muddy, hair dripping, trying to sneak in from the side like guilty teenagers.
They froze when they saw her.
Amisha's voice cut through the room like a whip.
"Kahan bhag rahe ho?"
All six stopped dead.
The kids in front, the men behind.
Guilty faces down (except Abhiraj, who had a teasing, defiant smile).
Amisha pointed to the floor in front of her.
"Yahan aao."
They shuffled forward (slow, dripping mud with every step).
Stood in a line (three muddy little boys and three grown, muddy men).
All looking down.
Except Abhiraj (still smiling).
Amisha shot him a death glare.
He didn't care.
She started.
"Kal hi saaf kiya tha poora haveli...
aur aaj yeh kya halat bana di?"
The kids tried puppy eyes (big, wide, innocent blinks).
Aviraj even pouted dramatically.
Krish copied him.
Yug stuck his thumb in his mouth for extra cuteness.
Amisha narrowed her eyes.
"Mujhe aaj pata chal gaya hai...
yeh masoomiyat bas dhong hai.
Ab main iske chakkar mein nahi fasungi."
She turned to survey the mess (muddy footprints from the door all the way to the sofa, wet patches on the carpet, leaves stuck to the floor).
"Kal sab tum log saaf kiye the..."
Her words died.
All six (three kids, three men) had synchronized the ultimate weapon.
Puppy faces.
Pouts.
Big eyes.
Heads tilted.
Even Abhiraj joined in (fake pout, eyes wide).
Amisha took one involuntary step back.
In pure frustration, she threw her hands up.
"Nikal jao yahan se sab!
Aur yeh floor bhi saaf kar dena.
Kaamwale tumhare naukar nahi hain!"
Someone (Mihir, probably) muttered under his breath.
"Waise toh naukar hi hain hamare..."
Amisha's head snapped.
"Naukar hain toh?
Sirf ek baar saaf karenge woh... baar baar thodi!"
She pointed at the door.
"Ab nikal jao yahan se!"
The six culprits shuffled out (muddy, wet, but secretly pleased they'd escaped worse).
Abhiraj lingered last, winked at her.
She glared harder.
He grinned wider.
The fireball queen had spoken.
And the muddy army retreated.
For now.
The rain had eased to a steady drizzle, but the courtyard was still a muddy mess from the earlier chaos.
Amisha sat on the sofa like a queen on her throne.
Shushila (six months pregnant, bump visible) and Karishma (two months, just starting to show) stormed in from the kitchen, both looking equally furious at the trail of mud and wet footprints across the clean floor.
Shushila put her hands on her hips.
"Yeh kya halat bana di hai?
Kal hi saaf kiya tha!"
Karishma nodded, rubbing her lower back.
"Ab kaun saaf karega yeh sab?"
Amisha sighed.
"Main hi bol rahi thi... in teeno ko aur inke teeno baap ko."
The three pregnant bahus exchanged looks (tired, hormonal, united in their annoyance).
Then the main door opened.
A tall boy stepped in (ten years old now, much taller, sharper features, but still with that bright, fearless smile).
Ranvijay.
He had grown (no longer the little kid tugging sarees, now confident, polite, but still bold).
He greeted everyone with a warm "Hello" and "Namaste," shaking hands with the elders.
Then sat casually on the floor cushion near Amisha (like he belonged there).
The family smiled (he had become a regular visitor over the years, always polite, always finding excuses to come).
Abhiraj watched from his spot, face neutral but eyes narrowed slightly (he still didn't fully trust the boy, especially with that old "shaadi" joke lingering in his mind).
Ranvijay chatted easily.
"Papa aur Mummy bhi aa rahe hain thodi der mein.
Aaj business meeting thi sarpanch ji ke saath."
Abhiraj nodded curtly (their families had business ties now-legal and otherwise, the mafia side carefully hidden but present).
Amisha smiled at Ranvijay.
"Achha... khaana kha ke jaana."
Ranvijay grinned.
"Haan amisha... aapke haath ka toh pakka."
Aviraj (three years old, now cleaned and changed) toddled over, curious about the big boy.
Ranvijay played with him a bit, making the toddler laugh.
Abhiraj's jaw tightened (he still felt that irrational protectiveness-Ranvijay was too comfortable, too fearless around Amisha, and one day his daughter would be born...).
Before anyone could say more, the door opened again.
Megha burst in (raincoat dripping, bag slung over shoulder).
"Arre main late ho gayi!
Vedant ke ghar se direct yahan-traffic tha!"
She lived in another colony with Vedant now (married two years), but came to the haveli almost every day, leaving by 6 p.m. to go home.
She hugged everyone, kissed Aviraj, then plopped down beside Amisha.
"Aj kya chaos tha? Maine suna sab muddy ho ke aaye!"
The pregnant trio groaned in unison.
The men looked guilty.
Ranvijay laughed.
And the living room filled with chatter again.
The haveli was never quiet.
Not with this family.
Not ever.