When Shivaay met Anika

The birthday party was in full swing in Oberoi House. The happy screams of children resounded in the great hall. There were balloons and streamers everywhere, along with tables laden with toys, gifts and food... lots and lots of food. The adults were all running around trying to corral the children, while the children were all... just running around. Kalyani Oberoi aka Dadi was sitting off to one side on a sofa, laughing at some of the kids' antics. Her granddaughter, Priyanka, the youngest of the lot, was a year old today, and Dadi was very, very happy. The only girl among the four grandchildren, she was the apple of everyone's eye. The atmosphere was fun, happy and boisterous. There were atleast 30 kids there, the neighbours, family friends and friends from school, of the three Oberoi brothers (the OBros). Rudra was running around with his friends, inciting mischief and eating all the candy he could get his hands on. Omkara was sitting next to Dadi, trying to sketch the scene as best he could with his new set of pencils he'd received as a gift on his previous birthday. Dadi patted his head, and he looked up at her and smiled, before focusing back on his sketch. He was the quietest and the sweetest of the lot. Even at this age, he was such a calming influence on his siblings. Unlike that angry young man, Shivaay, the oldest. He was the anchor that kept them all grounded, the glue that kept them together. The Great Wall of Shivaay, Omkara called him. Where was he though?

Shivaay Singh Oberoi was bored. The party was fun for a while, but he couldn't deal with the loud noises for long. Besides, the kids were mostly younger than him, being more Rudra's and Prinku's age than his own. He'd hung out with Om for a bit, but once Om started drawing, his focus was so complete, that Shivaay might as well not have been there. He decided to go to the kitchen and see if anyone needed his help. He loved the kitchen and the different colours and textures of the fruits and vegetables. The smells in the kitchen calmed him down, and he loved to cook. It was always very interesting to him, to put ingredients together in different proportions and come up with a delicious end result. It appealed to the aesthetic in him, as well as the scientist. But mostly to the control-freak. He controlled the behavior of the ingredients, the heat and spice level, the textures and smells, and they obeyed him every time, coming out with an end product exactly as he'd envisioned. He loved to spend time there.

But today, the kitchen was overrun with people. The catering staff, his Badi-Maa (technically his aunt, Chachi), the chefs that were hired for this party, and kids and adults running in and out. It was chaos... organized chaos, but chaos none the less. Shivaay escaped from there, but not before he'd been subjected to a hug from Badi-Maa, and a few pinched cheeks from the neighbour aunties. One of them went so far as to peer into his eyes closely and murmur, "I can't get over your eyes. Wish I had eyes like that, they're wasted on a boy". She shook her head at the foibles of an ironical God who'd chosen to give those gorgeous eyes to a solemn boy, instead of a coy girl.

Shivaay smiled in embarrassment and scampered out of the kitchen, headed to his room. His sanctuary. His place... where he knew nobody would enter without his permission. Only the OBros were allowed in there. Even the servants knew not to go in for their cleaning without informing /asking him. He was 12, but ruled the house with a will that was much stronger than people four times his age. His Papa and Maa only shook their head at this attitude in their one and only much-loved child, but Bade-Papa loved to boast that Shivaay took after him. Dadi secretly disagreed. He had all the attitude but none of the belligerence and ego of his Bade-Papa. He was more like his Grandfather. A stern exterior and a soft-as-mush interior. The love he had for his family, especially his brothers and sister, was plain to see, and would be the saving grace of his life, balancing his stubbornness and willfulness. When he loved, he loved with all his heart and soul. A true 'Ishqbaaz', just like his Dadaji.

Shivaay walked into his room and shut the door. The noise of the revelry outside was muted in these corridors, and with the door shut, he couldn't hear anything at all. Finally, some peace and quiet! He decided to get some reading done. The new comic book set his Papa had given him was calling his name. He smiled and settled down for a good read. He lost track of time and was fully immersed in the world of good battling evil and eventually winning.