Have you heard of Palampur? It's awesome little village nestled between the hills and valleys.
A serene village becomes the stage for a story of shattered dreams and newfound hope. Fiery and short-tempered Jiya, separated from her mother and sister...
🏍️ "Papa's Little Girl Milk, Meltdowns, and the Majestic Taj" ﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌ 🍃🌙🪞🪷✨📜
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Ah, the Taj Mahal. The pinnacle of architectural beauty, the symbol of eternal love, and apparently, the backdrop to my daily chaos. Here we are, flying in a private jet to see it in real life....yes, the same Taj Mahal that Tara and I went gaga over after seeing it in a wrinkled newspaper. It's been our dream ever since that crumpled image graced our eyes. And now it's finally happening! Yay for us, right? Well, except for one small, tiny detail: I'm in the middle of a milk crisis. A 'dudu' crisis, to be exact.
So, here I am, trying to bask in the excitement, but my 1-year-6-month-old mini-me, Tanishkaa, is bouncing around like a possessed rabbit, screaming.
"Mumma dudu, mumma dudu!"
'Dudu' being milk, of course. The obsession this child has with milk is unparalleled. I mean, I've tried introducing rice, dal, everything! But no, madam just has to shake her head dramatically, like a Bollywood starlet, nibble a grain or two, and declare herself full. And don't even get me started on her reaction when I offer my milk....it's like she's won the lottery. The sparkle in her eyes? That's pure drama, inherited straight from her father, Tanishk.
One day, Tanishk was throwing clothes around because apparently, that's his idea of fun, and what do I see? Little Miss Tanishkaa joining him, gleefully tossing her tiny outfits into the air like she's in a detergent commercial. And the look on Tanishk's face? He was so proud! Like literally!
"Oh look, she's learning from me!" I was speechless. Father and daughter, causing chaos in my world, while I stand there holding her little frock, dumbfounded. And then there was the time she placed her tiny hand on a doll in some upscale toy store, no less....and before I could blink, Tanishk had bought her the entire collection. Yes, 'the entire collection'. My eyes nearly popped out.
"Oh sure, darling, let's raise a spoiled brat with a doll army. Sounds like a great parenting strategy!"
Then there's my parents...Tanishkaa has them completely wrapped around her little finger. My strict rules? Oh, they go straight out the window when Maa and Papa show up. And don't even get me started on Rajshree Amma and Papa. Spoiled? More like royalty in the making.
Anyway, back to our 'perfect' family vacation. We're in the private jet, and of course, Tanishkaa is chanting "dudu" as if it's her personal anthem. She's bouncing on me, and I can already feel the headache brewing. Meanwhile, my dear husband, the love of my life, Tanishk, is lying there, scrolling through his phone like this is a normal Tuesday.
"Tanishk, help!" I practically beg, but what does he do? The man rolls up my pallu, tugs at my blouse like it's some kind of heroic act, and BAM! Tanishkaa's latched onto me, grinning like she's just won a prize. My face? Bright red. And Tanishk? He gives me his signature nonchalant shrug, scrolling through his phone as if nothing's happening. Like, really?
