Once Upon A Hullabaloo!

CHAPTER 7

THIS CHAPTER IS DEDICATED TO sunshyn_22 FOR ENCOURAGING ME TO UPDATE SOONER! :*

My formerly (mentally)accused maybe-psycho murderer had infact accomplished a degree in Masters Of Business Administration from London school of business. As sexy as he sounds, Kshitij lacked something major for a person who has had his academic youth in the buzzing capital of England- A British accent. Yes, that would have been amazing. All my life I really wanted to be acquainted to one person who would have that 'worth-swooning-over' accent of classiness. 

Well, what can one do? The world has never been perfect. Chocolate makes you fat and Matt Bomer is still gay! 

Human is habitual to adaption in accordance to the circumstances around. We either make reparations with the fading waist-line or learn to fantasize about the dark heaven called chocolate while trying to shove a bowl full of salad down our throats. As for the dilemma related to Matt Bomer- Ladies, either have the guts for going under a knife to have a boner between your thighs or just find a bliss in reaching your climax when Bomer goes shirtless on your television screens.

So, here I was making amends with his not-so-British accent.

"Shu leso bapu?"  A young boy in his teens stood there with a cloth hanging on his shoulder.

We were settled on two plastic chairs separated by a wobbly plastic table having a steel jug of water and glasses  in between at a roadside dhaba. The sun had been over our heads when my empty stomach let out a disgraceful growl amidst our animated conversation about his life in London. That was a signal enough for us to make a lunch stop at the very next dhaba that popped up by the roadside.

Kshitij turned to me with an ebullient grin bursting on his face as the young boy's native gujarati vocabulary hit his ear-drums. Of-course, the look also demanded a translation from me.

"He is asking for you to place the order." I smiled. His excitement for the culture was infectious.

He spared a final glance to the crumpled, almost-torn paper(apparently the menu-card) in his hands and said, "Kadhi-khichdi."

I shrugged in response and the boy sprinted off to the kitchen. Kshitij relaxed back in the chair drumming his fingers on the table.

"It's surprising how you didn't catch up on the British accent inspite of the long stay there." I stated in coolly. I was still disappointed. Secretly.

How awesome it would have been to go home with a boyfriend(fake one though) with a British accent. Miral could just have it in her face!

"It was a conscious doing." He locked his arms behind his head and smiled sheepishly, "I looked like a pretentious douche while interacting with the employees in my office here with that accent. I worked hard to get the Indian touch back."

I raised an eyebrow at him.

"And then there is always that distracting ladies' attention that comes along with it." He acted all snobbish, "Top it with my irresistible looks and it is a heart-breaking disaster!"

"Living in a bubble Mr.Gulati?" I rolled my eyes.

"I call it belief, you call it bubble." He winked.

The steaming bowls of kadhi and khichdi were placed on our table.  Kshitij observed me and dug a pit in the heap of khichdi to pour the sweet-spicy kadhi inside.

He took a spoonful of the dish in the mouth," Reminds me of mom's 'dad-is-out-of-town' meals. She loves preparing these dishes."

"It's very thoughtful of you to respect your mom's wishes and take the whole experience genuinely."