Ambivalence

Strange Comforting Feeling

Aaradhya's POV

The next few days were a whirlwind of activity, preparing for the upcoming pooja. Ruhani Masi and Dhriti were a tremendous help, guiding me through the process of making prasad in such large quantities. The kitchen, which initially seemed like an intimidating battlefield, slowly transformed into a place of productivity and camaraderie.

As we approached the day of the pooja, the kitchen became a hub of activity. The aroma of various sweets and savories filled the air, and the counters were lined with trays and utensils. It was a daunting task, but with each passing day, I gained confidence and found a strange sense of fulfillment in the art of cooking.

The soft glow of dawn gently filtered through the curtains, casting a serene ambiance in the room as I stirred awake. The early hour seemed to hold a sense of tranquility, a peacefulness that enveloped the world outside.

I rose from the bed, feeling the coolness of the floor beneath my feet as I stretched out the stiffness from my muscles. The injuries that had once plagued me were now mere memories, healed under the vigilant care of Rana Sa. His watchful eye had ensured that I received the best treatment, and now, as I moved about the room, I could feel the strength returning to my body.

Dressing in a fresh beige saree, I took care to pin it securely, the fabric draping elegantly around me. The quiet of the morning enveloped me as I made my way towards the closet, the anticipation of the day ahead lingering in the air. Glancing back at Rana Sa, still asleep in the bed, I couldn't help but wonder if he truly rested or if his slumber was merely a facade, a mask to hide the burdens he carried.

As I finished securing my saree and gathering my hair into a loose bun, preparing for the day ahead, I heard his sleepy voice pierce through the quiet of the room.

"Where are you off to so early?" Rana Sa's question caught me off guard, causing me to pause in my movements.

"Rana Sa, today is the pooja at our mahal," I replied, turning to face him.

"But isn't it scheduled for 10?" he inquired, his voice still tinged with drowsiness.

"Yes, but we have to prepare the 50-kilo prasad, and there's also the matter of arranging meals for everyone afterward," I explained, a hint of concern in my tone.

"Hmm, alright. I'll join you," he stated simply, his decision taking me by surprise.

"You?" I couldn't help but express my confusion.

"Yes, is there a problem?" His response was firm, leaving no room for further argument.

"But—" I began, only to be cut off by his insistence.

"I'll be coming along," he reiterated, his tone leaving no room for negotiation.

As I entered the kitchen, I reviewed the recipe for the prasad. I arranged all the ingredients in the required quantities. I'm not bad at cooking, but preparing it in such a large quantity was a big task for someone like me, who rarely cooked. I double-checked the ingredients, and there was one missing: cardamom powder. I looked around to find it but couldn't see it. I searched the shelves and found it on the second rack. I looked around for a stool, but there wasn't one. If only I wasn't wearing a saree, I could have climbed up the platform.

I stood on my toes, trying to reach the container, but it wasn't working. Suddenly, I felt someone's presence behind me and a hand reaching above, collecting the container. I knew it was him; his minty fragrance and the way my heart skipped a beat in his mere presence confirmed it.

I tried to keep my composure as I turned around to face him, finding myself uncomfortably close to him. His eyes held a mix of amusement and something I couldn't quite decipher. "Thank you," I mumbled, taking the container from his hands.