The toaster goes off.. simultaneously along with a microwave ping..and the tea pot began to scream..
I run to the kitchen.. through the hall.. meanwhile the TV speakers blast..
Aai chikni Chameli chupke akeli ..pauva chadake aayi
I looked at my bestfriend's five year old kid Jeremy.. shaking his booty in his shinchan themed pj..I began to laugh while running without looking forward and my leg slips..on the Lego peice lying hazardously on the floor...I fall backwards my arms flaying and my mouth opened in a silent scream...my eyes wide..
The tiny, evil plastic piece that had been lying in wait like some miniature villain. And just like that...Time slowed. Of course it did—because in every Bollywood movie, when a heroine is in peril, everything slows down so the hero can appear just in time, hair blowing in slow-motion, eyes full of concern and dramatic music swelling in the background(aai chikni Chameli chupke Akeli...Abey yeh nahi.....tujhe dekho yeh jaana sanam.. She could already hear the orchestra in her head..*thud* ..I lie..on the floor staring at the ceiling...blinked twice... guess no prince charming is coming to save me.. judging from the pain in my tail bone..
Owwwwww .....I closed my eyes in pain as I wail out like flopped chicken..I open my eyes to see Jeremy and Mr.Sebastian staring at me...we all blink at each other..
ALISHA? .. Jeremy 'd mom..aka my dear friend..Maya called out..U OKAY? ...I quickly get up as Jeremy and Mr.Sebastiam moved away hastily..as I run to kitchen..to turn off all the appliances..
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I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans, muttering curses at the Lego piece like it had personally betrayed me. Jeremy was now inspecting it with the fascination only a five-year-old could muster, poking it with a finger and giggling. “It’s tiny, but evil,” I whispered to myself, because clearly he wouldn’t understand the gravity of my life choices.
Mr.Sebastian, my best friend’s sleek, judgmental cat, had perched himself on the countertop, giving me that “Really? Again?” look that only cats can master. His tail flicked in slow, deliberate irritation, like he was mentally calculating how much trouble my clumsiness would cause him later.
I turned off the toaster. The microwave. The kettle. The TV. Silence settled for a brief, blissful second—before Jeremy, evidently inspired by my dramatic fall, started stomping in little dance steps on the kitchen tiles.
I sank onto a chair, rubbing my tailbone, and sighed. “Bollywood lied to me,” I muttered, echoing my earlier thought—but now softer, more reflective. Maya came in with a towel and a cup of water. Her eyes were wide, half horror, half trying not to laugh.
“Alisha…are you hurt?” she asked, but I caught the twitch of a grin threatening to break free.
“I’m fine,” I said, though my tailbone had other plans. “Just…attacked by a tiny plastic assassin. And betrayed by my own coordination.”
Jeremy crawled onto my lap and hugged me, somehow squeezing between pain and chaos with that fearless five-year-old logic. “Don’t worry, Alisha! You’re strong. Like a superhero!”
And just like that, the mess, the noise, the absurdity—all of it—felt softer somehow. Even Mr. Sebastian hopped onto my lap, purring loudly, as if to say, Yeah, human, you survived. Good job.
I leaned back, eyes closed, feeling a little ridiculous, a little sore, but mostly alive. Chaos may rule the kitchen, the Lego may plot my downfall, and Bollywood heroes may never appear… but at least, I thought, there’s tea, friendship, and Jeremy’s unstoppable energy to make it all worth it.
And maybe next time, I’d look down before running.
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