I found myself in a situation that I never imagined I'd be in. Today's the day we're supposed to visit Grandma Khan, at least that's what my mom said, and I got dragged along with the whole crew. So here I am, sitting in their living room surrounded by a bunch of strangers, getting stared at like I'm the main exhibit at a zoo. Seriously, they've been throwing questions at me like I'm a contestant on some game show. And let me tell you, I am not here for it.
We barely stepped through the door... My mom and this auntie were reuniting after years of separation. I half-expected them to break into a choreographed dance number right then and there. And then, before I could even process what was happening, Auntie was lunging at me like we were starring in our Bollywood drama.
I'm seriously rethinking my life choices right about now. The amount of stares I'm getting could rival a Hollywood red carpet event. And let me tell you, I did not sign up for this level of attention. All I wanted was to say hi to Grandma Khan, maybe have a quick chat, and make a swift exit. But nope, here I am, stuck in the middle of what feels like a family reunion I didn't even know I was invited to.
Don't get me wrong, the family seems nice enough, but I'd much rather be chilling in my cozy bedroom, surrounded by mountains of sweets, and catching up on the latest K-drama series. Plus, let's be real, K-dramas are the perfection of entertainment. Anyone who disagrees clearly hasn't experienced the joy of shedding tears over every heart-wrenching episode of Queen of Tears.
As I sat there, munching on a particularly delicious piece of jeera cookie, I couldn't help but marvel at the sheer genius of whoever invented such a heavenly treat. If there were Nobel Prizes for desserts, this would've bagged a dozen already!
Then suddenly, I heard footsteps coming from the stairs, and instinctively, I stood up to see who it was. It's the grandma herself! Wait a minute—she's the same Mrs. Khan patient I had just two days ago! What are the odds? I thought, feeling like I'd stumbled into some sweet coincidence.
So, I waddled up to her as I greeted her, trying to keep my balance after nearly tripping over the edge of the carpet. She looked at me with this knowing twinkle as if she'd been expecting me all along. Strange, right? I barely remember what I had for breakfast yesterday, let alone all the patients I've treated.
"So sorry for not recognizing you at the hospital. I didn't realize we'd met before, ma'am," I said, slightly embarrassed.
The sweet grandma smiled warmly, "Oh, don't worry about it, sweetie. Call me 'dadi' like I'm your grandma."
I grinned back at her and took her hand, helping her navigate to the living room where the rest of the gang was chilling. She beamed at me proudly, and I couldn't help but feel a warm fuzzy feeling inside. "Oh, sweetie, you didn't have to do that," she said, her eyes twinkling affectionately.
"No worries, dadi," I replied, feeling warm and fuzzy inside. "Oh, and I'm really still sorry for not recognizing you in the hospital when you were a patient of mine."
She chuckled, a sound like tinkling bells, "No worries, no one would've either. Plus, you were working, so you weren't aware. Besides, you hadn't met me before!"
As we settled on the couch, Dadi started chatting away in Bengali, her words flowing like a sweet melody. I tried my best to catch on, but let's just say my Bengali skills were as rusty as an old bicycle left out in the rain for years. Nevertheless, I picked up a few words here and there, mainly the ones related to food. Typical, right?
Dadi noticed my struggle and laughed heartily, "Arey, bachcha! Khub bhalo khete parcho toh? Tumi amar barir mishti bhalobasho?" (Translation: "Oh, child! Can you eat very well? Do you like the sweets from my home?")
I chuckled nervously, trying to keep up, "Haan, Dadi, mishti khete khub bhalo lagche! Tumi ki chini diye banano?" (Yes, dadi, I love eating sweets! Did you make them with sugar?)
Dadi grinned, nodding enthusiastically, "Aami nijei banai! Tumi khete chai?" (I made them myself! Do you want to eat?)
And just like that, we launched into a hilarious yet heartwarming conversation about the art of making sweets, with Dadi sharing her secret recipes and me nodding along like an eager student. Moments like these made me realize just how special the bond between a doctor and a patient could be, surpassing the hospital walls and turning into something truly magical.
I grinned and nodded at the grandma, trying to keep up with her rapid-fire questions in Bangla. She was like a detective, interrogating me about everything from my favorite food to whether I had tried this or that. But hey, I didn't mind. She was sweet, in that nosy, meddling grandma way that you just couldn't help but love.
Just as I was getting into the swing of things, feeling like I was holding my own in this conversation, one of the younger cousins, Aarav, tugged at my dress like a little puppy vying for attention. I turned to him with a smile, ready to indulge in whatever mischief he had in mind. But he just wanted to play, his eyes bright with excitement.
Dadi, sensing an opportunity to escape the rapid-fire questioning, excused herself from our conversation with a knowing smile. "Looks like someone needs your attention more than I do," she said, her eyes twinkling with amusement.
I chuckled, ruffling Aarav's hair affectionately. "Alright, little man, what do you have in mind?"
He grinned up at me, his enthusiasm infectious. "Let's play hide and seek! You hide first!"
I laughed, nodding along. "Alright, but no peeking!" I said, wagging a finger at him playfully.
As I crouched down to count, I could hear the sounds of giggles and shuffling feet as the other cousins scattered to find their hiding spots. "Ekhane ghumonto hobe na, chhup kore thako!" I called out in Bangla, knowing that would earn me a few extra seconds of hiding time.
(No sleeping here, stay hidden!)
I burst out of the living room, determined to find a good hiding spot in this complicated hallway. It's like a maze here, but it's perfect for a game of hide and seek. So, I start scouting for a spot, ducking behind furniture and peeking around corners like a spy in a cheesy movie. But just as I thought I found the perfect hiding spot behind a big old vase, I turned too quickly, and bam! Down I go, headfirst into what feels like a solid brick wall.
"Ouch! Seriously, why do I always manage to find the hardest things to collide with?" I grumble to myself, rubbing my sore noggin. And, of course, right on cue, I hear the pitter-patter of little feet, the telltale sign that the kids are hot on my trail.
"Come out, come out, wherever you are!" I hear them singing like a luabally, their giggles echoing down the hallway. Great, just great. I pick myself up, trying to shake off the embarrassment and the ache in my head. But hey, at least I'm winning at hide and seek, even if it's unintentional.
As I dust myself off, I can't help but grumble about the series of unfortunate events that seem to follow me around like a shadow. And lately, it feels like I've been running into that blind guy way too often. I mean, talk about bad luck! Every time I encounter him, it's like a comedy of errors waiting to happen.
"So, what's next? Tripping over my own shoelaces?" I mutter to myself, half-expecting some cosmic force to take me up on the challenge.
Then, just as I'm trying to shake off the embarrassment of my latest tumble, I notice something out of the corner of my eye. There he is again, Mr. Grumpy Pants himself, or at least what appears to be him. But wait, it can't be, right? I must be seeing things.
I squint, trying to make sense of the figure standing before me. Is it a statue? Did someone commission a sculpture of the grumpiest man alive? Because if they did, they nailed it.
"Huh, either I've hit my head harder than I thought, or that's one heck of a lifelike statue," I say, inching closer to get a better look. "Please don't be real, please don't be real," I chant under my breath, reaching out tentatively to touch it.
So, naturally, I did what any sane person would do when faced with a potential danger in front of you. I reached out to poke him. You know, just to make sure he wasn't secretly acting as a statue in his spare time. Because that's a totally normal thing to do, right? And then, just as my finger made contact, I froze.
"Oh, sh—"
•••
Do you think Aisha is paranoid about the statue, or is there more to it? Let's hear your thoughts! 🤔