Everyone in my family calls me Chinnu. My real name is Rashi, but somehow, this nickname stuck with me since childhood. It’s funny, isn’t it? I often feel like I belong to the ’90s. I prefer a slow-paced, simple life, quite unlike the fast, flashy world we live in today. Maybe it’s because of the environment I grew up in—a home built on love, discipline, and traditions that never seemed outdated.
My father, a man of strong principles, raised me with discipline. He wasn’t the kind to pamper, yet I always knew his strictness was just another form of love. My mother, on the other hand, balanced our home with her warmth, her soft words filling the gaps my father’s silence left behind. Then there were my grandparents—the soul of our home. Every evening, my grandmother would sit on the porch, her saree pleats perfectly arranged, telling us stories from the past. Stories of love, courage, and sacrifices, tales that made me feel like I was a part of an era long gone.
And of course, there was my younger brother—my biggest rival and my closest ally. We fought over the silliest things, from who got the last piece of mango to whose turn it was to switch off the light at night. But at the end of the day, we were inseparable.
Holidays were the most magical time in our house. The smell of fresh mangoes filled the air in summer, and winter brought with it the warmth of family gatherings. I spent countless hours in our little garden, my fingers digging into the soil as I planted new saplings, my grandmother beside me, sharing her wisdom about life with each seed we sowed. Weekends were reserved for old Telugu movies. The melodies of S.P. Balasubrahmanyam played in the background as we laughed and cried over the stories of a time we never lived but somehow felt deeply connected to.
But if there was one thing that defined my life as much as my family, it was my friends.
Our gang of five was an unexpected mix of personalities that somehow fit together like pieces of a puzzle. Meenakshi, my best friend since the second grade, had been my constant. We had seen each other through every phase of life—childhood mischief, teenage heartbreaks, and endless dreams of the future. Kavya, who entered my life during intermediate, was the quiet one at first, but once she let us in, she became our secret keeper, the one who understood emotions even before we voiced them. Seetha, my childhood neighbor, was like a second sister to me. Our families had been close for years, so it was no surprise that we ended up in the same intermediate college, making our bond even stronger.
Then came the boys—Ram and Dileep. Ram was the calm one, the kind who thought twice before speaking, his words always carrying weight. Dileep, on the other hand, was the opposite. Loud, full of mischief, and always ready with a joke, he was the one who made sure our gang was never too serious for too long.
Together, we were unstoppable. Every holiday was a new adventure—beaches, temples, movie theaters, or just some random place we decided on at the last moment. Each trip added a new chapter to our friendship, making our bond unbreakable.
Life in our small town was simple, but to me, it was perfect. Festivals weren’t just about decorations and sweets; they were about togetherness. I still remember the way my mother and I spent hours making traditional sweets, the kitchen filled with the aroma of jaggery and ghee, while my father played old melodies on the radio. Summers meant playing outdoors until sunset, coming home exhausted, and gathering around my grandfather as he told us stories that made us forget how tired we were.
To the outside world, I might have seemed like just another quiet girl, someone who found joy in little things. But my friends knew the real me. To them, I was the heart of our group—the one who held on to memories, who cherished every little moment, who believed that happiness wasn’t in grand gestures but in the simple, timeless joys of life.
And that’s me—Rashi, the girl who still believes in the beauty of old-school charm, the magic of deep friendships, and the warmth of traditions that never fade.
But little did I know that life had plans of its own. Plans that would shake my world, test my beliefs, and push me into a future I never imagined.
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Stay tune for the next chapter .
🦋✨️ I hope you like it 🦋✨️
