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ꨄ︎ꨄ︎ꨄ︎

ꨄ︎ꨄ︎ꨄ︎

"Waleed!" She shouted on top of her lungs, her voice echoing in the large hall, as she continued chopping the vegetables standing by the counter in a messy bun, in her red kurta and shalwar, the dupatta tied at one side in a knot in a desi style. It was a Sunday afternoon, as the silence in their house of England was as always killing for Hoor. If it were Pakistan, at least some neighbours shouting like her, the traffic outside, the kids shouting and playing would be a good ronaq. But this place had no such source of life.

"Mama aik tou itna chillati kyun hain aap!?" The little boy made his way to the hall, kicking the football with his foot, his silky black hair which resembled his mom in colour, and his sharp features which resembled his dad, as his eyes were hazel like his dada's. His pants had dirt on them indicating he had been playing in the wet ground, ignoring his mom's warnings of not going anywhere near it.

"Mama se badtameezi, chapair khaani hai?" She lifted her head up to look at her eight year old son, who had a pout on his face as he hopped behind the football kicking it in the sofas' direction. "Iss gande ball ko bahir chor ke ao, Waleed!"

"Kia hai mama! Khelne bhi nahi deti mujhko!" He annoyingly kicked the ball directly on the sofa as Hoor gave him an angry glare.

"Bare hi koi badtameez ho gae ho. Tumhe tou mai set karti hun, ruko zara!" She stopped chopping the carrot, warning him.

The boy quickly grabbed the ball, running towards the door in tiny steps, as he placed it in the garage, and came back inside giving his mother a sheepish grin, melting her anger as she continued with her cooking.

"Mama, mujhe bhook lagi hai." He entered the kitchen in his muddy shoes making Hoor irritated again. "Waleed! Pehle fresh hoge, phir. Warna no lunch. Chalo, shabash." She covered the counter area, not letting him in. The clever little patakha, being her son only, climbed on top of the counter chair, as he extended his small hand to hold a piece of carrot she was chopping. "Ya Allah! Yeh bacha!"

"Itni baar kaha tha us Boris se dosti na karo uski tarha chawal ho gae ho!" She opened the fridge taking out the dough, muttering, as the boy munched on the carrot like a rabbit.

"Kon Boris? Mera tou koi dost nahi hai Boris." He gave an innocent look, while trying to sneak another piece but Hoor slapped his hand away.

"Acha maa ke sath hosheyari? Abhi batati hu!" She took the dish away from his reach on the other side, as he pouted, folding his arms.

"Meri tou aik hi dost hai, Ava. Wo bohat achi hai. Mujhe wo bohat pasand hai, hum kal ice cream date pe bhi gae the." He told in his childish voice, placing his elbows on the counter while cupping his face.

"Astaghfirullah! Sharam tou hai hi nahi, maa ke saamne izhaare muhabbat kiya ja raha hai!?" Hoor gasped at her little eight-year-old, his innocent gaze lingering between his mom and the food.

"Tumhe tou mai batati hu din ba din kharab hoe ja rahe ho tum!" Hoor washed her hands from the sink, continuing to scold him.

"Nahi tou. Mai aik acha bacha hu. Sab larkiyan kehti hain, I'm a good boy." He tapped his fingers in slow motion on his cheek, proudly bragging to his mom.

"Mujhe saari samjh aa rahi hai! Lafantariyan karne bhejti hu tumhe mai school?" She dried off her hands, passing him another angry comment.

"Apko saari samjh ati hai, bari tez hain aap." He cheekily grinned, covering his face, his eyes squinting as his chubby cheeks fluffed up. "Ava ne mujhe bola tha, will you be my boyfriend? So I said, Yes." He raised up his hands, shrugging his shoulders up, while twisting his lower lip out in a cute manner.

"Yeh jo roz zero le kar aa jate ho, ab samajh aya! Muhabbatein ki ja rahi hain tou parhai tou ho gi nahi!" Hoor held the spatula in her hand, to mix the food on the stove, shaking her head in disapproval.

"Haw mama. Aisi baatein aise hi nahi karte. Deewaro ke bhi kaan hote hain." He pointed a finger on his lips, whispering, as he had heard his mom saying this line before.

"Maa ke sath moun darazi! Tumhein tou aj mai kamre mai band karti hu, raat ko bhau ae ga aur tumhe le jae ga!" She pulled the fallen strand of hair behind her ear, covering the cooker.

"Mujhe bhau se dar nahi lagta ab. School mai na mei sab larkiyon ka superhero hun. Wo sab mere par charh jaati hain help ke liye." He talked like his mother, since he was also a chatter box like her, as Hoor's eyes widened in disbelief.

"Sharam karo kuch! Tauba tauba! Yeh mai bardasht nahi karu gi ab!" She stood on the other side of the counter, facing her son with a glare. "Tumne koi help centre khola hua hai larkiyo ke liye? Khabardaar, jo ainda aisi harkatein ki."

"Papa ki harkatein mere mai a gayi hain tou kia karein?" His lips formed into a thin line, as Hoor herself was the one who had narrated their love story to him as a bed time story, telling how his dad had saved her like a hero.

"Haw haye! Koi sharam hi nahi, baap pe pohanch gaya!" Hoor exasparated, "Yeh bacha hath se nikal raha hai, tumhe tou mai set karti hu abhi!" She placed her hands on the sides of her waist, angrily staring at him, but the little boy wasn't affected at all.

"Mai bhi Ava ke liye aise hi hero banu ga!" He did a superman pose, excitedly climbing on the chair in his muddy shoes.

"Yeh chapair maarni hai mai ne aur saara ishq naak se nikal jana hai tumhare!" Hoor motioned her hand at him, as he flinched sitting back down.

"Dekha ap mujhe maarti hain! Aur ishq naak se nahi dil se nikalta hai ammi jaan!" He let out in a small voice, playing with his tiny fingers.

"Chup karo tum! Ava ka chaacha na ho tou!" Hoor felt like her head was spinning because of this tiny patakha of hers. Why did he take after her in having such a smart mouth at even such an age?

"Nahi mai uska chaacha nahi hu, mai tou usse shaadi karunga!" He shrieked all of a sudden as Hoor gasped loudly.

"Tidday se tum ho aur ishq mashooqiyan karte phir rahe ho! Karwati hu mai tumhari shaadi usse! Tumhari shadi mai ne Pakistan mai tumhari koi phuppo ki beti dhoond ke karwani hai!" She pointed a finger at him, in a warning tone, frustrated.

"Nahi mai wo shaadi nahi karunga kabhi!" He fought back, getting up on the stool again.

"Shaadi tou tumhari daadi bhi kare gi!" Putting off the stove as she checked if the food was cooked, she turned to her son now.

"Iss Ava ka bhoot utarti hun mai!"

"Nahi nahi nahi!" He stomped his feet, screaming loudly as she scrunched her nose.

"Chup karte ho tum ke nahi!?" Untying the knot of her dupatta, she draped it over her other shoulder.

Waleed kept on saying "Nahi" on repeat as she made her way towards him.

"Tum aj nahi bacho ge mere hathon se! Phenti aj tumhari hone se koi nahi bacha sakta!" As she rounded the counter, he jumped off the chair.

"Pehle pakar ke dikhaein mujhe." Sticking out his toungue, he jumped away behind the dining table.

"Mai tumhari taangein tor dungi aik inch bhi hile tou!" Hoor stood on the other side, trying to peek at his invisible figure hiding behind the table cover. The main door opening had Waleed sprint out of the table, towards his dad who entered in the house with chocolates for his son and grocery for his wife.

"Woah, my champ." Dawood was quick to place the bags on the floor, and hug his son as he threw him up in the air, making Waleed giggle.

"Papa. Mujhe mama se bachae." As Dawood placed him back on the floor, the little one pointed at his mom who passed him a glare, walking towards him. Shrieking, he hid behind the tall figure of his dad as Dawood covered Hoor's path, not letting her pass. "Kia ho gaya?"

"Ap chup kar jaein! Mujhe isski chand paraid karne dein, hat jayein!" She stepped to the right, as he followed her steps, his brows falling together in confusion.

"Kyun maarna hai mere bete ko?" He gave her an offended look, folding his arms.

"Apke bache ka ishq nikaalne lagi hun, naak se! Bilkul aap pe gaya hai! Chichora!" Her brown orbs now stared at his, as she also folded her arms.

"Haw. Aapne mujhe chichora kaha?" Dawood exclaimed, placing a hand over his heart.

"Aur nai tou kiya. Ab do do chichoray kese handle karun mai?" She used both her hands, to tuck her hair strands behind her ears, from both sides.

The loud noise of cartoons playing on TV, had them both swivel their heads to the television, where Waleed sat cross legged with the remote placed on his lap, as he hogged on the chocolate he had sneaked out of the bag, his big innocent eyes on the screen.

Their lips broke into a smile watching their son, as Dawood pulled Hoor towards his chest by draping his arm over her shoulder, his chin on her head. "Aap hi ke chichoray hain tou handle karna bhi aapko ana chahiye."

Giggling, Hoor looked up at him, wrapping her arms around his torso as Dawood bobbed his head with hers lightly.

"Oof, mama papa. Get a room, please." The little one tried rolling his eyes by popping his eyeballs upwards as he shook his head.

//❀❀❀//

/Author's Note\

And the answer for the title is;

C for "Chichoray"!!!

Kesa laga mera surprise?💃

💀*officially ded*💀

Pls dont come at me with bats for my chittar parade LMAO-

HOOR is such a typical desi mom who got no chill bhae!🌝

Do do cheechoray handle kar rahi hai yrr!🐒

Just wanted to show y'all glimpse of their cute lil desi family🔥

So I just randomly came up with this short scene and boom!💀

If this continues, I might j not be able to get over them and write my next story🤧

Wese I was wondering ke bohat desi ho gaya so ab thora walaiti (I had to go search up for the opposite of desi cuz im so dumb *smh*) ho jaye? 👀💅

What say?

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