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Ch 6: WHERE THE WILDFLOWERS BLOOM

The village pulsed with energy. Every corner seemed alive rangolis blooming in peacock blues and turmeric yellows, the scent of deep-fried garelu mixing with jasmine, and the din of women’s laughter rising like temple bells. 

It was Bathukamma the festival of flowers, sisterhood, and divine celebration. Every doorstep boasted banana leaves, every palm was stained with turmeric, and the air felt soaked in nostalgia.

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Writing about love, family, and the chaos in between.