Not a yumhaj os

This is an os for Munna and Mahjabeen. I just couldn't stop thinking about it. And I wrote this before I knew there was an angle with Rehmati, all the shippers don't come after me.

It came out a little boring, it was super interesting in my head.
____

Mahjabeen sat in her school uniform in front of the TV screen, listening to her favourite song. Her fingers went to the plate where her jeera pappad lay, taking a bite she continued watching her favourite movie, Gunda. Her eyes intrigued as she mouthed the dialogue excitedly, "Naam hai mera Bulla, rakhta hoon khulla."

Her mother, Sameena, cringed as she heard the dialogue, "Chi chi Mahjabeen. Har roz yahi picture lagadeti hai, kuch aur laga".

Mahjabeen was invested, she nodded to her mother without turning in her direction, her head bobbing to the music, "Haan Ammi das minute".

Sameena rolled her eyes, "Ye toh rozka hogaya hai tera, sasural mai ye Gunda lagaya toh tujhe nikaaldenge" as she peeled the potatoes.

Mahjabeen's eyes lit up as the next famous dialogue came up, "Roti hoti hai khane ke liye ... aur boti hoti hai chabane ke liye."

Sameena's patience was being tested, and she sighed, "Mahjabeen abhi band kar!" She warned, pointing the knife in her direction, but Mahjabeen was invested her eyes widening as the fight scene began. She was used to ignoring Sameena's nagging, but when she increased the volume to mute out her mother's voice, Sameena had it.

Standing up, she pulled Mahjabeen's leg, "Band kar ye sab. Gundi banegi? Mawali banegi?"

"Ammi metric pass nhi hori mujhse kya khaak gundi banungi?" She wanted to be a gundi though, fighting the bad guys, and being the boss lady like in the movies wearing those black french caps.

"Aur banegi bhi kaise tu gundi? Har dusre din ladai k beech bhaag kar aati, gunda banne k liye himmat chahiye hoti hai", Mahjabeen was offended. It was her mother who had told her never to hit her classmates. And now she was insinuating that she was darpok.

"Ammi gunda banne k liye bas pistol chahiye hoti hai", she motioned with her fingers pointing at her mother, "Aye zalim Maa ghar mai jitna Aam hai mere hawale karde warna..", Sameena showed her the eyes, and this was her que to leave.

"Accha ammi aaj khaaney mai aalu na banana"

"Mahjabeen tu jaati hai ye nahi?"

"Roz matar k saath aalu, chawal k saath aalu, roti k saath aalu-"

Sameena stood up, and Mahjabeen ran outside into the hall as Sameena clutched her head.

"Gundi banegi?" Imitating Mahjabeen's tone.

___

The next day, Mahjabeen was roaming outside looking for the sabzi wala to buy tomatoes when she saw the ice cream parlour. Her lips pulled in a smile as she looked at the sun, it was scorching hot, she was sweating, 'Tamatar bhi laya toh konsa Ammi ne biryani banadeni hai, isse accha ice cream khaa leti'

She went inside the shop and brought out her favourite pistachio flavoured ice cream, it melted in her mouth. The heat from the summer forgotten as she relished the sweet snack while crossing the road. Her day was going perfect, the ice cream was tasty, it was slightly sunny.

She was in her own mind when a black minivan stopped inches away from her the speed making her fall to the ground, she winced as her chin digged into the ice cream. Her favourite ice cream was now turned into a beard. She glared at the person who was recklessly driving the car, the driver waved her to walk off but she wanted her ice cream back. Stalking to the car window she knocked on it. The driver lowered the glass and she gave him a glare, "Uncle gaadi chalani nhi aati kya aapko?"

Iqbal Munna who sat on the backseat, recovering from a concussion opened his eyes to find an angry girl at his car.

"Madam aap jaanti nhi hum kon hai"

Mahjabeen couldn't believe the nerve, "Gunde ho kya?"

"Haan gunda hu!"

Mahjabeen, with her ice-cream-beard, stood her ground, hands on hips. "Toh phir, gunde bhai, mujhe naya ice cream dilao!"

Munna, still dazed from his concussion, blinked at her. "Tum... tum mujhse ice cream maang rahi ho?"

"Haan, kyunki aapki wajah se meri ice cream sadak par gir gayi!" Mahjabeen pouted, pointing at the melting mess on the ground.

Munna couldn't help but sigh at the sight. "Theek hai, chalo," he said, stepping out of the van. He walked her to the ice cream parlour, where Mahjabeen ordered not one, but two ice creams this time-just in case.

As they walked back, Munna asked, "Tumhara naam kya hai, choti gundi?"

"Mahjabeen," she replied, licking her ice cream with a grin. "Aur main choti gundi nahi, badi gundi banungi!"

Munna laughed, the sound surprising even him. "Aur kaise banogi gundi?"

"Pistol khareed kar aur Bulla ki tarah yu dhai dhai goli chalaungi", one of her ice cream was melting she offered it to him, "Ice cream khaogey?"

He took it from her hand, "Kispar chalaogi goli?"

"Chalaungi nahi bas daraungi, metric me mai fail hogayi, shaadi meri ho nahi ri, toh ab log meri tab hi izzat karenge jab mere paas banduk hogi", Munna, the actual gunda suffering from a concussion had a newfound soft spot for a little girl with an ice cream beard.

Mahjabeen's declaration made Munna pause mid-lick. "Bandook se izzat nahi milti, Mahjabeen," he said, a hint of wisdom surfacing from his gunda persona. "Izzat toh..."

"Izzat toh kya?" Mahjabeen asked, her eyes wide with curiosity.

"Izzat toh... toh..." Munna struggled, his concussion making it hard to find the right words. "Izzat toh dil se milti hai!"

Mahjabeen nodded, impressed. "Toh phir dil se mujhe izzat do, aur mujhe gundi banne mein madad karo!"

Munna chuckled. "Theek hai, choti gundi. Par pehle, ye batao, tumhare paas bandook kahan se aayegi?"

Mahjabeen's face fell. "Woh... woh maine socha nahi tha."

"Koi baat nahi," Munna said, patting her head. "Hum kuch aur sochte hain."

And so, they sat on the curb, sharing ice cream and plotting grand plans. Mahjabeen wanted to be a gundi, but not the kind that scared people with guns. She wanted to be the kind that fought for justice, like in the movies.

"Ammi ko toh heart attack aajayega," Mahjabeen giggled, imagining her mother's reaction.

"Phir toh hume kuch aisa plan karna padega jo Ammi ko bhi pasand aaye," Munna said, now fully invested in Mahjabeen's dreams.

"Munna bhai, aaj se aap meri gundi training shuru karenge?"

Munna, now 'Munna bhai', nodded. "Bilkul, choti gundi. Kal se. Par abhi, ghar jao. Ammi intezaar kar rahi hogi."

With a final lick of her ice cream, Mahjabeen stood up, ready to make her mother proud without a single 'dhai dhai'.

(Here Bhai is the gunde waala bhai not actual bhai)

___

Munna stood in front of Rehmati, his co-boss, the ice cream still lingering on his taste buds. He couldn't shake off the image of Mahjabeen's determined face, her ice cream beard, and her fiery spirit.

"Kya soch raha hai, Munna?" Rehmati's gruff voice broke his reverie.

Munna blinked, coming back to the present. "Kuch nahi, bas ek choti gundi ki baat yaad aa gayi."

Rehmati raised an eyebrow. "Gundi? Tujhe se kisne panga liya?"

Munna chuckled, "Nahi Rehmati bhai, woh toh ek ladki thi. Ice cream gir gayi thi uski, toh maine nayi dilwadi."

Rehmati laughed, a rare sound in the grimy underworld they inhabited. "Tu toh soft ho gaya hai, Munna. Ladkiyon ke liye ice cream lekar ghoom raha hai."

Munna's thoughts drifted again to Mahjabeen.

Munna's encounter with Mahjabeen had left an indelible mark on him. As he stood there, the taste of pistachio ice cream a bittersweet reminder of their meeting, he realized that the world of crime and power he inhabited was starkly different from the innocent dreams of a young girl. It was a world where respect was earned through fear, not admiration.

"Rehmati bhai," Munna finally spoke up, his voice firm. "I've been thinking... maybe it's time for a change."

Rehmati's laughter stopped abruptly, replaced by a look of curiosity. "Change? What kind of change?"

Munna took a deep breath. "A change in how we operate. Maybe we can find a way to earn respect without instilling fear."

Rehmati looked at him, with skepticism in his eyes. "And how do you propose we do that?"

Munna smiled, a plan forming in his mind. "Let's start small. Let's help the community, protect the weak, and stand up for what's right. Let's be the heroes that this city needs."

"Change? Munna, you've been hit on the head one too many times," Rehmati scoffed, his voice laced with disbelief. "We're gundas. Fear is our currency. You want to turn us into what? Saints?"

Munna's gaze didn't waver. "Not saints, Rehmati bhai. But maybe... vigilante?Mahjabeen made me see-"

"Mahjabeen?" Rehmati interrupted, his tone mocking. "Since when do we take life lessons from little girls?"

Munna clenched his fists, struggling to keep his composure. "Since we realized that there's more to life than just ruling with an iron fist. Respect earned through good deeds lasts longer than fear."

Rehmati shook his head, annoyed "Saste nashe mat kar Munna."

___

The afternoon sun beat down mercilessly on the dusty streets of the small town, where the air hung heavy with the scent of dry earth and the distant hum of life going about its business. At the edge of this sleepy settlement, a bus stop stood as a solitary beacon of travel, a place of comings and goings, of brief encounters and long waits.

Rehmati, a man whose name whispered fear into the hearts of those who knew it, found himself in an unusual predicament. His car, had betrayed him with a sputter and a final gasp, leaving him stranded by the side of the road. With a scowl etched deep into his features, he leaned against the hood.

As the shadows began to lengthen, a young girl approached the bus stop. Mahjabeen, with her school bag slung over her shoulder, seemed out of place in the presence of the brooding figure of Rehmati. She waited with a patience that belied her years, her gaze occasionally drifting towards the man who seemed as out of place as a wolf among lambs.

It was then that the silence was broken, her voice cutting through the stillness like a knife through butter. "Uncle, aap pareshan lag rahe ho," she said, her tone carrying a mix of concern and childlike curiosity.

Rehmati's eyes snapped to her, the title 'uncle' sitting uncomfortably on his ears. "Aye uncle kisse bola?" he grunted, his voice rough as gravel.

Unperturbed, Mahjabeen met his gaze with an innocence that contrasted sharply with his hardened exterior. "Aapko," she replied simply, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Rehmati's gaze softened slightly as he realized she meant no disrespect. He turned away, attempting to ignore her, but Mahjabeen's curiosity was piqued.

"Aapna ikdam Bhulla jaise dikhte ho," she remarked casually, a playful smile dancing on her lips.

"Kisiki tarah?" Rehmati's interest was piqued despite himself.

"Woh Gunda hai ek," Mahjabeen explained, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Rehmati squinted his eyes, his pride pricked. "Is ilaake ka gunda mai hu, ye Bhulla kon hai?"

Mahjabeen looked at him with a mix of amusement and judgment. "Arrey aapko toh ye bhi nahi pata? Woh kehta haina 'Naam hai mera Bhulla, rakhta hu khulla' woh wala."

"Kya kya kya?" Rehmati's confusion was clear as day.

"Filmein nahi dekhte kya aap?" Mahjabeen asked, her head tilted to one side.

"Apna bada fixed schedule rehta hai, filmein wilmein dekhne ka time nahi hota," Rehmati responded, his voice a mix of defensiveness and resignation.

"Achha uncle, aapke paas pistol hai kya? Ek baar dikhaona!" Mahjabeen's request was bold, perhaps too bold.

"Pistol hai aur usme goli bhi, zyada bak bak ki na toh udadunga," Rehmati warned, his tone darkening.

Mahjabeen's playful demeanor vanished, replaced by a sudden fear. She mimed zipping her mouth shut, taking a step back from the man whose reputation preceded him.

Before she turned to leave, she couldn't help but let out one last remark, "Aap bohot bure insaan ho." Her words were soft but carried the weight of her honest perception.

Rehmati watched her walk away, her words echoing in his mind. Nobody had said it straight to his face, and when she did it with that innocent face, it hurt him.

Maybe Munna was right. People didn't respect then. They were merely scared of him. The night settled in, and the small town fell quiet, unaware that the wheels of change had begun to turn, all because of a chance encounter at a bus stop and the honest words of a young girl named Mahjabeen.