Ivaan's eyes narrowed, looking at the kit in his hand "Perhaps, I should... just maybe.......... listen to you" he murmured, " but what can I say.......I prefer tending to wounds that cut deeper than flesh."
Indu stood her ground. "You're trying to...
(Prince Amir with his wide-eyed wonder and a heart full of sweetness, giggles ) "Oh, you see,", (sitting cross-legged on the palace floor), "it's **Mishti Doi**! My mother, the Queen, makes it just the way her grandmother taught her-a secret recipe passed down through moonlit nights and whispered dreams as she says."*
*"First, my mother takes a pot made of clay, t She pours in warm milk, Next comes the golden jaggery. She adds just the right amount-enough to make the milk blush but not too much to overpower And then, oh, the My mother Let's The pot sits by the window, I imagine moonbeams kiss the surface of the milk, leaving tiny crescent-shaped blessings. We wait. Oh, the waiting! But patience, my friend, is the key to magic. In the morning, when the sun peeks over the palace walls, my mother uncovers the pot. And there it is: **Mishti Doi**, creamy and caramel-kissed. The taste? Like a hug from all the grandmothers who ever lived.. 🌙🥣"
4. If you were a desert what would you be?
(Q for Indu)
"Ah, my dear friend! If I were a dessert dish, I'd be a **Kulfi**, just like the ones my mother lovingly prepares. 🍨
Picture this: I'd be a delightful blend of creamy goodness, infused with fragrant saffron and crushed pistachios. My texture would be smooth, like the silk saris that adorn me during royal gatherings. And oh, the sweetness! Not too overpowering, just enough to make you smile.
