As the car came to a halt, the trio stepped out, taking in the lively atmosphere. The tea stall, Chai Ki Dukaan, was buzzing with young couples whispering sweet nothings over steaming cups. It wasn't just about the tea, though. There was an unspoken rule about this place—those who wanted to keep their relationships secret from their families visited under the guise of friendship. After all, the elderly patrons sitting around had sharp eyes and even sharper tongues. Any slip, and a secret love story could turn into the town's newest gossip.
Jai walked towards the counter and placed their order. "Three masala chais and three plates of hot bajjiyas, please."
The tea vendor, an elderly man with a kind smile, nodded. "Just a minute, beta. I'll serve them hot and fresh for you."
A few minutes later, Jai returned with their order, setting down the cups and plates in front of Chahat and their other friend, Tiya. As the first sip of chai warmed their senses, a sigh of satisfaction escaped Tiya's lips.
"Champs, this is the best tea and bajjiya I've ever had!" she declared, savoring the crisp, spicy fritters.
Laughter erupted from a nearby table, followed by a teasing voice.
"Tiya beta, you say that every other week. For you, whatever you eat is always the best!" an older man chuckled, shaking his head.
Tiya grinned, unfazed by the teasing. "Uncle, why not? I enjoy my food. Shouldn't we all appreciate what we have at the moment? What's wrong with thinking that whatever I get is the best of all?"
The elderly man, appearing to be in his late forties, nodded in amusement. "Well said. That shows how well the Agarwals have raised you."
Tiya leaned forward slightly, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Advice and values come from family, but whether we use them or not depends on the individual. I take my elders' wisdom and shape it in my own way, my own style. That's what makes it my personal way of living. So, uncle, don't give all the credit just to upbringing."
Just as the conversation lightened, another voice cut in, this time carrying a tone of disapproval.
"What's so special about a girl who dresses like a tomboy and refuses to acknowledge her own family's upbringing?" an older man sneered from behind. His tone was laced with judgment. "If she doesn't even know how a girl should dress properly, how good can her upbringing really be? We just witnessed it ourselves."
The casual yet condescending remark made Chahat's expression darken. She hated such outdated perspectives. Without hesitation, she turned to face the older man.
"Sorry to interrupt, uncle," she said, keeping her tone respectful but firm. "But what you just said is only your personal opinion. That doesn't mean it's a universal truth. Don't you think your way of thinking is a little outdated for today's world?"
A hush fell over the small group. The older man's face tightened for a moment, clearly unprepared for such a direct response. Chahat, however, held her ground. She wasn't one to stay silent in the face of unfair judgment.