• Echoes • ✔

• Stuck In A Snowstorm •

"Pata hai," Shakti continued as if sharing some state secrets, "snowstorm ka ek hi solution hai: garam chai aur sweater pehna."

"Dad, I'm at an airport, not a hill station. There's no chaiwala here offering masala chai."

Shakti looked scandalized. "What kind of country doesn't have chai? Tum Denmark wapas mat jaana! Pata hai, tumhare dadaji ke zamane mein, hum har jagah apni chai le jaate the."

Shivaay stared blankly at the screen. "Thanks for the history lesson, Dad. Very helpful."

Before Shakti could suggest he knit himself a sweater, Shivaay ended the call.

Just as Shivaay started to think the worst was over, his phone buzzed again. This time, it was Khanna.

"Sir!" Khanna's face popped up, looking overly eager, as always. "I heard you're stuck in Denmark, sir. Do you need me to come there?"

"Khanna, how would you even get here if I'm stuck in a snowstorm?"

"I can take a private jet, sir," Khanna replied confidently. "You've taught me that impossible is nothing! I will bring chai from Mumbai!"

Shivaay rubbed his temples. "Khanna, that's not how snowstorms work. Stay in Mumbai."

"But sir, if you need backup—"

"I'm not in an action movie, Khanna! It's a snowstorm, not a hostage situation."

Khanna looked disappointed. "Understood, sir. But if you need anything—chai, samosa, or a rescue mission—just call."

Shivaay nodded, ending the call quickly before Khanna started planning a full-scale extraction.

As if the earlier conversation wasn't enough, Rudra decided to call again. This time, his face was covered in shaving foam.

"Bhaiya!" Rudra said, grinning like a mischievous child. "Guess what? I Googled more about Denmark."

"Oh, great," Shivaay said dryly. "What groundbreaking discovery have you made now?"

"Denmark is one of the happiest countries in the world!" Rudra announced proudly. "You're probably surrounded by happy people. Why not ask them how they stay so happy?"

"Because I'm busy being unhappy in a cold airport," Shivaay replied. "And I'm not starting a motivational seminar."

"Okay, but hear me out," Rudra continued. "Why don't you start a snowball fight? Imagine how much fun that would be! Business mogul turned snowball champion!"

Shivaay stared at the screen, unimpressed. "Do you think I carry snowball-fight gear in my carry-on, Rudra?"

"Well, you should start, bhaiya. Oberois should always be prepared!"

Finally, Anika called again, this time with Omkara on her side. "So, Mr. Shivaay Singh Oberoi," she began, smirking, "what's the latest on Operation Snowstorm Survival?"

"I'm not in the mood, Anika," Shivaay replied, glaring at the screen. "I've been eating overpriced sandwiches and dodging calls from lunatics all day."

Om raised an eyebrow. "Lunatics? I assume Rudra called you."

"And Khanna. And Dad. And Mom."

Anika grinned. "You forgot me. Admit it—you missed my expert commentary."

"Sure, if by expert commentary you mean constant roasting," Shivaay muttered.

"Aw, don't be grumpy," Anika teased. "Think of this as a bonding experience with the universe. You're like a yogi in the snow."

"Do you want me to freeze to death, Anika?"

"No, no," she replied with a laugh. "I'm just saying, chill karo thoda. Literally."

Shivaay groaned. "Why are you like this?"

"Because I married you," she quipped. "Anyway, enjoy your Danish pastries, Mr. Yogi."

By the end of the day, Shivaay had given up all hope of peace. The Oberoi family decided to hold a group video call. Shivaay's screen lit up with the faces of Pinky, Shakti, Rudra, Om, Gauri, and Anika, all talking over each other.

"Shivaay!" Pinky cried. "Tumhare kapdon mein snow toh nahi ghus gaya?"

"Bhaiya!" Rudra yelled. "Try sliding down the luggage conveyor belt!"

"Beta," Shakti began, "find a hot soup stall. Soup is the key."

"Shivaay bhaiya," Gauri chimed in, "don't forget your English lessons! Danish log English mein best hain!"

"Everyone, STOP!" Shivaay finally roared, silencing them all. "I'm fine! I don't need soup, snow slides, or English lessons. I just need a flight home!"

There was a pause. Then Anika, smirking as always, said, "Flight home? Or do you just miss me?"

Shivaay sighed, his lips twitching despite himself. "Of course, I miss you. But I also miss silence. Now, can I have some?"

"Sure," Anika said sweetly. "After we discuss how you'd look in snowman form."

Shivaay groaned, ready to throw his mobile away when Dadi's sweet face filled the screen, full of maternal concern.

"Shivaay, put some turmeric in milk and drink it. Thand lagegi toh problem badh jayegi."

"Dadi," Shivaay said, pinching the bridge of his nose, "where am I supposed to get turmeric at an airport in Denmark?"

"Beta," she said firmly, "agar puchoge nahi toh milega kaise? Ask someone! Europeans are helpful."

"Dadi, this is not about help. I can't just ask a Danish person for haldi!"

"Arre, toh gajar ka halwa mang lo," Dadi suggested innocently, making Anika, who was listening in, howl with laughter.

Shivaay groaned. "Main disconnect kar raha hoon. Bye, Dadi."

Meanwhile, back at the Oberoi mansion, the family couldn't stop laughing about Shivaay's predicament. Anika decided to up the ante by sending Shivaay a picture of everyone bundled up in blankets with cups of hot tea, captioned: "Enjoy your Danish hygge!"

Shivaay's reply came instantly. "When I get back, I'm throwing all your blankets in the pool."

Later that evening, Shivaay finally found himself alone, sipping a lukewarm coffee and scrolling through his phone. A new message from Anika popped up—a video this time.

It was Rudra, standing in the garden, pretending to mimic a snowstorm while throwing flour into the air. The video ended with him yelling, "Shivaay bhaiyaaaa! Mujhe bhi Denmark bula lo!"

Shivaay stared at the screen for a moment before bursting out laughing. As much as his family annoyed him, they always managed to make even the worst situations a little lighter. With a small smile, he leaned back in his chair, muttering, "Bihari accents and turmeric or not, I'll never trade these lunatics for anything."

And so, he waited for the snowstorm to clear, comforted by the chaos that was his family.