2013-2014 © HAOYU Electronics. ALL Rights Reserved.
That evening was the wedding of Meera’s niece. The pandit had calculated the muhurta (auspicious time) based on the position of Jupiter. The groom arrived on a white mare, his face hidden by a curtain of marigolds, while a DJ blasted Punjabi pop music.
“Beta, have you eaten?” Meera asked Arjun for the third time. “Dadi, I’m intermittent fasting,” he replied, sipping a protein shake. Meera frowned. “Fasting is for Ekadashi, not for Tuesday. Here. Eat a kela (banana). God’s fruit.”
He thought about his life in Bengaluru: the glass offices, the swiping culture, the dopamine hits of likes. Then he thought about his grandmother’s bell, the clay cup, the cow in the road, and the seven vows.
“You know, in Bangalore, they serve coffee in a paper cup,” Arjun said. Raju grinned, pouring a stream of milky tea from a height. “Paper cup has no soul, bhai. Clay listens to the tea. That is Indian engineering.”
2013-2014 © HAOYU Electronics. ALL Rights Reserved.