Author's P.O.V

The kalra Mansion.....

Nestled atop of lush contours of Malabar Hill, the kalra mansion painted in warm sandstone hues with ivory trims and intricate jharokha's - exuded a richness that felt both Ancestral and Modern. Evening lights bathed the facade in gold , casting soft grass over the sprawling front garden where mogra, lilies, and roses bloomed in delicate rows. A pebbled path curved gracefully around a serene lotus pond before leading to the grand arched doorway.

The architecture was a seamless blend of Indian heritage and subtle western influence. Inside, high ceilings framed by ornate wooden beams overlooked polished marble floors. A majestic temple dedicated to Lord Krishna stood in a quiet corner of the house , it's white marble structure glowing beneath soft diyas , with fresh marigold garlands adorning the deity each day.

To the left of the main hallway was a sunlit courtyard opening into a private garden and an aquamarine pool bordered by manicured hedges and Bougainvillae.

At the head of the grand dinning table sat Mahesh Kalra, the revered patriarch of the Kalra Empire - tall, white-haired , and dressed in plain kurta and pyjamas. his eyes , though softened with age, still carried the sharp glint of authority. Beside him sat his graceful wife , Shanta kalra, draped in an ivory saree with a simple Lord Krishna pendant resting against her chest - the quiet strength behind the throne.

To Mahesh's right were Rajeev and Nisha - calm, composed, and ever gracious. Nisha passed around the bowl of kheer with a warm smile that lot up the table more than chandelier everyone could.

Abhimanyu's grandfather, Mahesh Kalra , was his idol - a self made man with nerves of steel and a heart that believe in legacy over luxury. His grandmother Shanta kalra , was the gentle yet firm matriarch who held the kalra mansion together with timeless grace . His parents Rajeev and Nisha, were his silent strength - Rajeev, the traditionalist with a sharp mind for finance, and Nisha , the soft-spoken woman.

On the left side sat Saket and Ritu kalra ( His Chacha & Chachi) - vibrant and talkative, their laughter adding lively spark to the evening.

A few seats down, the younger generation filled the space with a different kind of energy. Avni a second year student of Art , was excitedly talking about her college fest ; Trisha final year student of fashion communication , elegant and composed, scrolling through her phone with a faint smirk; while manik a professional photographer and part time travel blogger ever relaxed , leaned back in his chair, teasing Trisha with that signature mischief in his eyes .

Abhimanyu sat quietly between his siblings, dressed in a simple night outfit - the kind of calm that made people listen. One the outside, he wore the quiet poise of a man in cantrol, always a few steps ahead , always composed. A calm smile rested on his lips , but his eyes held stories he rarely let anyone read.

He was the kind of man who rarely showed emotion beyond the four walls of his home - for the world , he was poised , calculated, and at times, intimidating. Business saw his colder side - ruthless when needed, and dangerously protective when it comes to the people he loved. But with his family , there was a softness.

Strapped around his wrist was an old, classic watch - the kind that didn't just tell time , but held it. It had once belonged to his elder brother, Natik , the one he had looked up to all his life. The one who wasn't here anymore. The watch was a reminder of love , of loss he carried forward in silence.

“Rhea, woh special art segment ka final confirmation aaya?” he said into his earpiece while scrolling through a digital guest list.

From the other side, his secretary replied, “Yes sir. Soulstrock Foundation confirmed. Fifteen student artworks. PR says it’ll add heart to the event.”

Abhimanyu leaned back slightly, thoughtful. “Hmm… okey NGOs ke saath connect hona Kalra Foundation ke image ke liye zaroori hai.”

He ended the call just as his mother, Nisha, reached over with a pair of hot rotis and placed them gently on his plate.

" Gala ki planning ho gayi? " She asked , picking up her spoon delicately.

“Almost,” Abhimanyu replied. “Top industrialists, socialites, brand collaborators — sab aa rahe hain. Kalra Group ke liye defining moment hoga.”

“Aur tum us image ko lead kar rahe ho,” Rajeev said, his voice commanding. “Make sure it's flawless. Media attention, international guests — not a single weak link.”

“Don’t worry, Papa. Sab aligned hai. Art section mein bhi variety hai. Established artists, upcoming names… aur kuch student pieces bhi hain. Soulstrock ka segment emotional hook banega.”

Nisha raised a brow, curious. “Children’s art? Gala mein?”

Abhimanyu smiled slightly. “Emotion sell karta hai, Maa. And this adds humanity. Trust me, it'll work.”

" Bhai , Please jada serious mat ho jana .... Warna log samjhenge gala nahi. ... Aapki court hearing chal rahi hai !" Manik said with a glass of juice in hand and that signature grin plastered across his face

Abhimanyu didn't even blink. " Acha ? Toh tu kya hai? Mera free legal advisor ya background extra? "

" Seriously, Abhi Bhai you need to relax " Avni said between giggles.

Trisha looked up from her phone with a perfectly timed eye roll . " with Manik around, it should be. Bhaiya's always one selfie away from turning this into a travel vlog episode."

Manik clutched his chest in mock betrayal. " Jealously speaks, I get it. "

" If this is my emotional support group, I'd rather talk to the chandelier." Abhimanyu finally cracked a smirk .

Just as the roast session threatened to turn into a full-blown family comedy special, a deep voice cut through the chaos.

" Bas karo, yaar ... Gala hai, not a " Comedy Nights with kalra's episode."

Everyone turned to see Aarav Malhotra walk in with his signature lazy grin, adjusting the cuffs of his sleek black shirt with the other.

Aarav Malhotra 29, was the son of Arvind Malhotra - a close friend and long-time business ally of Rajeev kalra . The Malhotras weren't empire - scale like the kalras , but they were still among Mumbai's well respected elite, owning a high end chain luxury home decor boutiques across India called malamal living. Aarav now the creative director of the brand , was the one adding fresh edge and vision to the family business , though he never bragged about it.Confident, effortlessly handsome with a clean jawline, perfectly black hair.

" Tum log iske gala ko roast event mein convert karne mein lage ho." Aarav said , after taking his seat.

" Aap bhi Bhai ki team ke nikle, traitor!" Manik pointed at him in mock betrayal.

Aarav raised an eyebrow. " Main toh pehle se hi Team Abhi hoon - founder, OG supporter , therapy through Sarcasm."

Then he turned to Abhimanyu and signed, " Tu toh aise tension mein lag raha hai jaise kal gala nahi, T20 World Cup ka final khud organize karna ho tujhe - aur team bhi tu hi hai , umpire bhi tu khud hi ho!"

The room burst into laughter. Abhimanyu groaned into his palm.

" Gala kal hai, par tu aaj se aise ghoom raha hai jase NDTV ne live coverage shuru kar di ho - ' kalra Gala Countdown: kya Abhimanyu muskuraayega ?"

Trisha giggled. " Aap support karke bhaiya ko relax karva rahe h ya aur tension de rahe hai."

Abhimanyu just shook his head. As they dug into dinner.

Aarav , mid bite tilted his head. " Waise Bhai, yeh " Soulstrock " Art therapy kya cheez hai ye actually mein ? "

" Jayega na ? Khud dekh lena." Abhimanyu replied in his usual deadpan tone .

" Haan jaana toh padega mujhe... Kahin tujhe akela dekh ke therapist na bol de - ' Sir, aapka face dekh ke paintbrush ne therapy Lena ka form bhar diya hai." Aarav smirked.

Manik nearly choked on water ," Paintbrush bolega - main dusron ko therapy Dene ke liye bana tha ab mujhe khud therapy ki jarurat hai!"

Abhimanyu shook his head with the faintest smile that gave him away.

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The Raheja House ......

Unlike the kalra Mansion , the Raheja house say nestled in a quiet Bandra lane- not massive, but warm like a well - worn sweater on a chilly night. The house had it's own rhythm: peaceful and quietly beautiful. A mini garden wrapped around one side , dotted with Tulsi pots , blooming mogra , and an old wooden jhula.

Inside, the living room was just the right size for five cream colour walls, sepia- toned family portraits, soft rugs and three seated sofa currently packed with more than three people, all laughing between mouthfuls of ice cream.

Dr. Arun Raheja, in his plain white kurta and grey payjamas, sat with a book. His features were calm yet sharply defined.

On the sofa sat Saanvi Raheja , her heir tied in a lazy bun , dressed in a pastel cotton night suit. She was the picture of old - school - grace . A classical music teacher by profession.

Across from them, Vikram ( Ananya's chacha ) leaned back, silent but observant, in a plain navy t- shirt and pyjamas - Rajeev Kalra quiet trusted man. Meera ( chachi of Ananya) was a burst of warmth - vibrant wrapped in a floral nighties. She ran her own little bakery nearby. Known for it's melt- in- mouth walnut tarts and the kindest customer service.

Rachit, Ananya's elder brother, sat with one leg over the other, in his " retired for the day" shorts and tee, he was both the house clown and responsible one . His wife Aashi , sat next to him in a soft pink cotton kaftan, laughing as she wiped a bit of melted ice cream of his nose. She is kind and love her family so much .

" Bus Ananya tu kal kisi ke emotions ke upar TED talk dene mat lag jaana .... " Aansu : ek creative medium." Rachit said to Ananya.

Aashu nearly choked on her spoon . " Bas tu wahan Jake emotions ka lecture mat chalu kar dena, warna kal ka gala event " Rona Mahotsav" ban jayega..

Ananya gasped. " Rude!"

Just as the room echoed with another laughter Ananya's phone buzzed. One look at the screen and her face lit up like Diwali lights.

" Prisha calling " she grinned, already hopping off the couch with her half - eaten bowl. " Main room mein jaa rahi hu."

She hurried upstairs, chiku training behind her before distracted by a random sock and flopping down mid- hallway like he had more important business.

She entered her room and flopped onto the bed just as Prisha's face popped onto the screen. .

" Zinda hai finally mujhe lga khusi se mar gayi hogi , face dekh kar lag raha hai aaj ghar mai ache se roast kiya hoga " Prisha said squinting at the screen.

Ananya groaned, dragging a cushion over her face. " Mat puch , bhabhi ne bola ," bas kal kisi ko emotions ke naam pr rona dhona na shuru Kara Dena."

Prisha snorted. " She's not wrong . Tu kuch hi der mein " soulstrock ka senti satsang shuru kar kar deti hai!"

Ananya made a face . " Hello? Art Therapist hoon , thoda touchy hona job requirement hai!"

" Touchy nahi tu full- touch ho jati hai" Prisha fired back. " Gala ki gallery Mai log Art dekhne aayege or wapas jayenge 'free trial therapy session ' leke, last time bhi ek aunty ne tujhe sunke bola tha , Beta tumhare session ke baad mujhe neend nahi aayi."

Ananya grabbed a pillow and yelled into it. " IT WAS ONE TIME!"

Prisha grinned. " One time too many. Dr.Deep Feels . Kal bas gallery Mein emotions ka gyan band rakhna vrna canvas ki jagah tissue kharidane pad jayege logo ko." .

After another few minutes of laughing, teasing and discussing the call finally ended. .

Staring at the ceiling,

she whispered to herself, almost like a prayer" BAS KAL KUCH GADBAD NA HO..."

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