It was a calm evening.
Too calm.
Vansh, for reasons unknown, had decided to help Haseena “revise” what she learned in school. He sat cross-legged on the rug, flashcards in one hand, patience in the other.
Haseena, with her legs sprawled, was munching on biscuits like it was a TED Talk.
“Theek hai boss, ready ho?” Vansh asked.
“Always ready. Mujhe sab aata hai.” she said confidently, wiping biscuit crumbs on her frock.
“Accha. Pehla card. Yeh kya hai?” He held up an apple flashcard.
She grinned. “Apple! Lal wala apple! Mujhe milta nahi ghar mein!”
“Bilkul sahi. Next.” He flipped to a picture of a sun.
“Sooraj! Jo mujhe chubhta hai subah!”
“Boss full marks le rahi ho! Agla card.” He showed her a cat.
Haseena paused.
Squinted.
Then broke into a huge grin.
“Meow.”
“Nahi nahi… yeh kya hai? Naam batao.”
“Meow!” she said again.
“Arre boss… naam kya hai iska? Dekho dhyan se.”
“Meow hi toh hai. Aap ko sunai nahi deta kya? Dekho, bolti bhi hai.” She pointed to Fluffy, their very real cat, who was sitting by the window—watching the entire scene unfold with a look of divine irritation.
Vansh sighed. “Boss… uska sound meow hai. Naam cat hota hai.”
“Nahi! Naam Meow hai. Jab bhi aati hai main meow bolti hoon.”
Fluffy flicked her tail and stared at Haseena like: Main yeh sab sun rahi hoon, okay?
“Dekho Haseena… agar main tumhe bulaun ‘Chatterbox’, toh tumhara naam toh Haseena hi rahega na?” Vansh tried to explain.
She tilted her head, thinking hard.
“Nahi. Ab se mera naam bhi Chatterbox hai. Aap ne bola toh fix ho gaya.”
Vansh facepalmed. “Main haar gaya. Tum jeet gayi. Fluffy bhi tumhare team mein hai shayad.”
Fluffy blinked lazily.
“Dekha? Meow ne aankh bhi maari!”
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It was one of those peaceful mornings. The sun filtered softly through the kitchen window, Ammi was humming a classic old tune, and the aata (flour) sat innocently on the counter… unaware it was about to be part of a disaster.
Haseena tiptoed in like a secret agent—messy hair, one sock on, and that suspicious sparkle in her eyes.
“Ammi? Aaj main madad karungi.”
Ammi turned with a half-smile, half-fear. “Madad? Tu school ke liye tayar ho ja pehle.”
“Nahi! Main aata ghoonti hoon. Mujhe sab aata hai.” she said proudly, already climbing onto the stool.
Before Ammi could react—fwoosh!—aata flew into the air like snow in a Bollywood dream sequence.
Half on the floor. Half on Haseena’s face.
She stood there, blinking through the white cloud. “Dekha? Snow gir gaya! Barfi jaisa lag raha hai!”
Ammi stared in disbelief. “Haseena! Allah re... tu toh kitchen mein bhi Holi mana rahi hai!”
But she wasn’t done.
Her eyes fell on the bartan stack. She picked up a shiny chammach.
And then it began.
TING. TANG. TUNG. TIK TIK TIK.
“Main band baja rahi hoon! Shaadi wali music!”
“Bartano se shaadi nahi hoti! Sar dard zaroor ho jaata hai!” Ammi groaned, rubbing her temples.
Right then, Vansh walked in, blinking at the noise. “Yeh kya concert ho raha hai?”
Veer peeked from behind him and smirked. “Arre meri Baby toh DJ ban gayi! DJ Baby in the kitchen!”
Haseena turned, grinning ear to ear—flour stuck to her cheeks like war paint. “Main kitchen ki queen hoon! Sab bartan mere bajenge!”
Fluffy the cat chose that exact moment to walk in—only to slip on the flour trail and immediately freeze in betrayal.
She gave Haseena a long, dramatic stare. The "you shall not be forgiven" kind.
Ammi sighed, half-laughing. “Jab tu badi ho jaayegi na… main kitchen ke liye alag insurance karwaungi.”
“Main toh chhoti hi rahungi! Mujhe barfi banana hai aur music bhi!” Haseena yelled, flinging more aata in the air like confetti.
After the kitchen concert and a forced scrubbing session by Ammi, Haseena had been packed off to school—hair tied (unevenly), shoes half-buckled, and her expression as tragic as a daily soap heroine.
She sat on the tiny blue chair in her classroom, arms crossed, still lowkey mad about not being allowed to bring “ek chammach aur thoda aata” for “emergency barfi”.
The class was buzzing.
Miss Sana walked in with her usual sunny smile. “Good morning, class! Aaj hum kuchh naya seekhenge.”
Haseena groaned under her breath, “Roz kuch naya... kab purana karenge?”
Miss Sana drew three big shapes on the board: a circle, a triangle, and a square.
“Yeh kya hai, bachcho? Circle, triangle, aur—”
Haseena stared.
Blank.
Confused.
Betrayed.
She slowly placed her hands on her head like she was in actual pain.
Then turned dramatically to Shazia and whispered, “Yeh kya bol rahi hai? Yeh sab toh TV mein bhi nahi aata.”
Miss Sana caught the whispering. “Haseena? Can you tell me which shape is round?”
Haseena stood up with full confidence. “Gol waala! Wo laddoo jaisa!”
“Very good! And what’s the name of it?”
Haseena blinked.
Pause.
“...Gol waala.”
Class: snickers
Miss Sana tried not to laugh. “It’s called a circle.”
Haseena frowned. “Toh laddoo ka naam bhi circle hai? Tabhi Ammi mujhe zyada nahi deti! Yeh math ka part hai!”
At that exact moment, Fluffy’s betrayal, barfi’s ban, and now this shape drama—all of it crashed in her brain.
She dropped back in her seat, arms flopped down, face twisted in confusion.
Held her head with both palms and muttered, “Mera dimag toh dukaan band ho gaya.”
Shazia leaned closer. “Tu chup kar, main yaad karwaungi.”
“Nahi... mujhe sirf barfi banana hai. Shapes sab Fluffy ko sikha do.”
Miss Sana smiled at the dramatic declaration. “Haseena, tumhare liye ek special drawing homework hai. Laddoo shape draw karna.”
Haseena gasped, “Sacchi?! Main kaala laddoo bhi banaungi. Jo chocolate waala hota hai!”
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༺ 𒆜Ishq Ka Pehla Saya 𒆜 ༻
Fanfiction✧ Phase One: A childhood full of mischief, secrets, and survival. ✧ Phase Two: A college girl's battle between forbidden love and family duty. Haseena was born into rejection. But she was also born to fight. With two brothers who love her, a grandmo...
