Mrinalini.
"Ira.." A woman wearing a traditional yellow and red 'aatpoure' (eightfold) saree, calls. Her forehead shines with a round kumkum bindi. The ending part of her saree is draped over her head as a traditional veil called 'ghomta'. Right beside her sits another woman, seemingly much older than her. Her hair is cut short with very little length, she is wearing a bright white saree and from her appearance she is a widow. Both the women are wearing full sleeve woolen blouses.
"Ira.." Now the old woman calls out. After a few seconds a slender and tiny Ira comes running inside. Her hair is divided into two thick braids. She is wearing a striped saree over a yellow full sleeve woolen blouse as well.
"Yes maa." Ira says, running to the younger woman smilingly and hugging her from behind.
"Take the glasses to your brother and let me know if Mrinal has come yet, okay?" The woman says, handing a tray to her.
"Yes, yes." The kid responds, as if bored.
"Where is your glass? Did you again pour the milk into the soil?" The woman asks again, as the old woman shakes her head smilingly.
"No! I drank it. I'll bring you the empty glass as a proof, you'll see." Ira protests.
"Abha, don't trust this devil. She certainly thought 'the trees need milk more than me' again. Did you not?" The woman asks playfully.
"Yes, yesterday I thought so but today I thought I needed it more than the trees. Happy?" Ira answers.
"That we'll find out. Now go." Abha smiles, ruffling Ira's hair.
¤¤¤¤¤
"Would you kindly lift your face from the book, dada?" Ira asks, entering into her brother's room without even knocking. The man, who was extremely engrossed into his study, finally lifts his face as his glass protected grey eyes look at the intruder. His eyes softens as he closes the book to make space for the tray his sister is still carrying. His towering height, sharp jawline, jet black hair and deep steady eyes give him a very intimidating aura. An aura not many can ignore but there is a softer side to his personality that becomes visible every time he is around any of the four ladies of his life.
"Where is your homework?" He asks Ira, pretending to be strict. Ira, who is caught off guard, shifts her eyes from her brother to the bookshelves. She urgently needs to make up something.
"I.. I was actually doing the homework, when boro maa called, you know. I'll bring it in an hour." She says and immediately scurries away. Her brother barely manages to hold his laughter at her actions.
"Bichhu (devil)!" He utters to himself, bringing a glass of milk to his lips. Immediately after, his room fills up with the smell of fresh sandalwood and pine trees.
"What took you so much time?" The man asks, keeping his eyes to the book.
"Your beloved kakima. What else?" A girl answers confidently entering into his room and habitually picking up the covered glass of milk, sitting on the tray. Her long straight hair is dangling even below her hips. Her gleaming pitch black irises looking royal and confident, fitting beautifully against her glossy olive skin. She's taller than the average female race of her community. Her blue saree and decorated blouse looks expensive but she seems to be the wrong person to be carrying that dress properly. Which makes the whole otherwise beautiful attire look more like a blue bandage wrapped all around her body.
"What about her?" The man asks, noting down something on his writing pad with his ink pen.
"Following baba moshai's orders and dolling me up." She says, picking out a book from the huge bookshelf. Her words make the man finally lift his face and look at her. And the very moment he does his stout face breaks into a fit of laughter.
YOU ARE READING
Seize Her And....
Romance"You have intertwined our destinies. You involved her into this mess from the beginning of it all and now it's my time to intervene." He challenges. "You have taken away everything from me and I never questioned you. I never bothered. But now I know...
