Chandigarh L&C 4

Just a recap for better visualisation:-
  
Arjun 40 years 5’3” 64 kg Harmeet Kaur 50 years 5’9” 90 kg Babita 22 years 5’11” 80 kg Kamla didi 60 years 5’10” 85 kg 

Chandigarh L&C - Part 4

A week later, Harmeet took Arjun along to a Ladies’ Club event at the Sector 27 Community Center. He thought he was tagging along as a tech helper for Harmeet’s presentation on ‘Zoom for Senior Citizens’.

But as soon as he entered, dressed smartly in a kurta-pajama, the whispers started. Babita was already waiting with her gang, grinning from ear to ear.

“Ladies!” she announced, clapping. 

“Meet our baby mascot for today’s event—Chhotu Babu!”

Before Arjun could process the joke, Babita scooped him up under his knees and back, twirling him once for show. “Ta-da!”

One aunty squealed, “Oyy hoye! Kitna halka hai yeh!” Another added, “Mera toh pota bhi isse zyada bhaari hai!”

From there, it was a full parade. The ladies took turns carrying Arjun in various styles—across arms, piggyback, shoulder-perch. Even those older than him by a decade effortlessly lifted him, giggling like schoolgirls.

One particularly mischievous aunty in her mid-50s said, “Chalo Arjun beta, ab daant mat dikhana. Hum toh tumhari mummy ke umar ki hai!” She scooped him up and pretended to feed him imaginary khichdi from a plastic spoon.

Babita's younger friends joined in. 

“Babu shona wants burpy-burp?” they teased, gently bouncing him on their knees.

Kamla Didi arrived midway and shook her head. “Kya hal bana diya mere babu ka! Ab mujhe hi sambhalna padega.” She lifted him off the lap of a giggling college girl and planted him firmly in her lap, wrapping both arms around him. 

“Khaali photo kheenchna aata hai tum logon ko. Dekho pyar kaise dete hain!”

Arjun, red-faced and helpless in her arms, finally whispered, “I’m 40... they’re girls half my age... and even older women are carrying me like I’m nothing.”

Kamla clicked her tongue and kissed his forehead. “Bas kar chhotu. You’re mummy’s baby. Samjha?”

—--

 The Cousin’s Wedding Invitation Round :

The afternoon sun beat down over Chandigarh’s quiet residential lanes as Babita stepped out in a bright turquoise salwar kameez, her long dupatta fluttering dramatically. In her strong arms—resting comfortably like a doll—was none other than Arjun, neatly dressed in a maroon kurta and pajama. His expression was a perfect blend of resignation, embarrassment, and faint amusement.

"Babita, at least let me walk up to the houses!" he groaned, wiggling uselessly.

Babita grinned and shifted his weight effortlessly onto her hip. "No way! You are my baby husband, and people must know. I don’t trust your tiny legs on these hot streets."

Harmeet, walking behind with a tray of sweets and invitation cards, laughed. "Beta, she’s right. And anyway, the cab has no extra seat—we told you this morning, you’ll travel in Babita’s lap only."

They walked into the first neighbour’s home. An elderly aunty opened the door and did a double-take.

“Arrey Babita puttar! Oh ho, who is this?”

Babita beamed, bouncing Arjun slightly. “Aunty ji, meet my baby husband! We’re here to invite you to my cousin’s wedding.”

The aunty peered at Arjun, blinking. “Pati hai yeh? Tu toh usse double lagti hai!”

Harmeet chimed in, “He’s forty. But look at him—Babita can carry him like a grocery bag!”

More giggles followed. And so began a riotous round of invitation delivery where every home witnessed the same:

– At one house, Babita held Arjun high in her arms as she posed beside the guests for photos, saying, “Don’t mind, he's shy standing alone.”

– At another, Harmeet insisted Arjun feed mithai to the host while sitting in Babita’s lap.

– One teenage cousin teasingly said, “Arrey, chachu lagte ho, par Babita di ke haathon mein toh baccha ban gaye ho!”

– An older neighbor, about 60, chuckled, “Beta, you’re 40 and still light enough for these girls to toss around. What do you eat?”

At a brief stop for juice, Babita sat on a bench and settled Arjun sideways across her lap, patting his cheek as she fed him sips from a straw. He muttered, “Babita, people are watching.”

She cooed, “Let them watch, meri shona babu. Aaj se you are officially Babita’s laadla pati-baby.”

The last stop was at a park pavilion, where Babita stood in front of a crowd and dramatically declared, “This is my husband! And if anyone says he’s a full-grown man, I’ll carry him right here and prove them wrong!”

And she did.

To thunderous claps, Babita lifted Arjun high in a bridal carry, spun once, then settled on a bench, placing him on her lap like a prize and planting a kiss on his forehead.

Arjun covered his face, mumbling, “How will I ever face society again?”

Kamla Didi, who had come along silently, only chuckled and lifted him again, adding, “Don’t worry, beta. If society has a problem, mummy will carry you home herself.”

—-

The wedding venue in Chandigarh shimmered with marigold garlands and strings of fairy lights. The sprawling lawn buzzed with chatter, music, and guests in colorful finery. 

Amidst this crowd, one spectacle drew the most attention—not the bride or groom—but the curious sight of a 40-year-old man being passed from one tall, strong Punjabi woman to another like a prized baby.

That man, of course, was Arjun.
He wore a gorgeous cream kurta with a golden stole—picked out and forced upon him by Babita. His hair was combed and his cheeks lightly blushed by the girls earlier “just to make him glow.” But he never got a chance to walk on his own two feet.

From the moment they arrived, Harmeet had declared, “No walking, no standing. Either you sit in a lap or stay in my arms. That’s the rule.”
Babita grinned and lifted him right out of the cab.

“You’re the doll of our wedding party,” she teased, settling him on her shoulder like he weighed nothing.

“Aren’t I the man here?” Arjun protested weakly.

“Shhh,” Babita tapped his nose, “You’re my baby pati. Let people see how I pamper my man!”

She carried him through the crowd, proudly introducing him:
 “This is Arjun. My personal baby husband.”

 Some laughed in disbelief, some admired her strength, and many women asked, “Can we try lifting him too?”

Soon a rotation system developed.
Harmeet held him like a toddler on her hip while chatting with her friends.

Kamla Didi proudly rocked him side to side in her arms, whispering, “Mera gudiya.”

Babita’s cousin sisters, all in their 20s, took turns parading him around the venue, crooning, “Babu shona needs fresh air!”

Elderly aunties, dressed in heavy sarees, joked, “Beta, hum bhi young the kabhi. But even now, we can carry you!” And they did—much to his astonishment.

At the lunch buffet, Babita refused to let him even sit on a chair. She sat down on a cushioned swing and pulled him onto her lap, feeding him sweets with her hands.

“Open your mouth, shona,” she said, as other guests chuckled at the sight.

Arjun, cheeks burning, hissed, “Babita, this is a wedding! People are watching.”

Babita smiled smugly. “Good. Let them. Let every girl here know—if you want a husband, make sure he fits in your lap.”

That evening, as music blared and people danced, Babita picked Arjun up again—this time cradling him like a baby—and walked through the dance floor in rhythm with the dhol beats.

The DJ shouted over the mic, “We have a special entry—Babita and her… adorable plus-one!”

The guests clapped. Someone threw flower petals.

Babita turned to Harmeet and shouted, “Bohot enjoy kiya na? Now let’s take him home before he gets sleepy!”

Kamla Didi stepped forward, arms out. “Come to mummy, meri jaan.”
Arjun, helpless and defeated, was passed into her arms once again.

—-

The post-wedding picnic had turned into a full-blown celebration in a Chandigarh park. Arjun, 40-year-old software engineer turned “lap baby,” was once again being rotated like royalty. Babita’s friends were seated in a circle on the grass, each waiting their turn to rock him, cuddle him, or feed him snacks from their hands. His legs dangled over Babita’s lap as she lovingly brushed imaginary dust from his kurta.

“I’m not even allowed to walk,” Arjun grumbled under his breath.

“Because walking is for grown-ups,” Babita said with a wink. “And you, meri jaan, are our sweet little boy.”
Harmeet laughed, “Girls, whoever is holding him must announce when they’re handing over! We don’t want to lose our doll, okay?”

But someone was watching from a little distance. Tanya, one of Babita’s friends, tall, curvy, and slightly jealous of all the attention Arjun was getting from others—especially Babita—was quietly fuming. She had carried Arjun earlier during the wedding for just a few minutes, and ever since, had been waiting for her turn again.

But now everyone was smothering him, cuddling him, bouncing him, even making videos.

She had a mischievous idea.
As the girls burst into a loud chorus of a Punjabi folk song and began clapping, Tanya used the moment of distraction. She quietly slipped in from behind and whispered to Arjun, “Shhh… come, I’ll take you somewhere fun.”

Arjun blinked. “Wait… Tanya? What—”

Before he could protest, she swooped him up with ease, lifting his 64-kg frame onto her shoulder. His legs kicked slightly in surprise.

“Tanya! Put me down—what’re you—?”

“Shhh… just borrowing you,” she whispered, with a devilish grin.

In a few swift steps, she disappeared behind the trees and bushes. In moments, they were out on the street, and Tanya had placed Arjun on the seat behind her scooter, as she rode off at full speed, grinning ear to ear.

She reached her modest home, parked the scooter, and carried Arjun bridal style through her front door.

He protested again, “This is kidnapping! I’m a 40-year-old man—”

She giggled. “You’re a 40-year-old baby, and right now, my baby.”

She kicked the door shut and marched straight to her bedroom, where a large traditional Punjabi wooden cradle stood by the window. It had been her little cousin’s when he was small, but she had kept it for nostalgic reasons.

Now, she plopped into it herself, placing Arjun across her lap.

He squirmed.
“You can’t just—”

But she began rocking the cradle gently, wrapping one strong arm across his torso to prevent any escape. “There, there. No one’s going to snatch you now.”

“Tanya—Babita and the others will look for me!”

She shrugged, leaning in closer. “Let them. I locked the gate. And the door. And now… I get my time.”

For hours, she sat there rocking him, humming softly, feeding him sweets from her fridge, stroking his hair. When Arjun dozed off slightly, she whispered to herself, “Mine. For today.”

Back in the park, Babita suddenly looked around. “Where is Arjun?”

Kamla Didi’s sharp eyes narrowed. “He was with you!”

Harmeet stood up. “Who was the last one to hold him?”

The girls looked around and gasped. “Wait… where’s Tanya?”

Babita growled. “She stole my baby husband?!”

Kamla cracked her knuckles. “No one steals my boy. Let’s go.”

—

Tug of Love – Arjun’s Rescue Mission :

Back in the park, a mild panic had set in. Babita paced around, scanning every corner, her dupatta flying behind her like a cape. Kamla Didi stood hands on hips, her towering frame scanning the horizon like a hawk.

“She just picked him up and vanished?” Babita growled.

One of the girls, Meher, muttered nervously, “I thought they were just going to talk behind the trees…”

“Talk? Tanya kidnapped my husband-baby!”

Kamla cracked her fingers. “Hmph! That Tanya girl has guts. But not for long.”

They fanned out in pairs. Thanks to Arjun's brightly colored kurta and soft whimpering voice (and a helpful shopkeeper who had seen “a big girl riding off with a small man on her scooter”), they quickly tracked Tanya’s home.

Outside Tanya’s house…
Babita banged on the door.

Inside, Tanya hugged Arjun tightly in her arms like a toddler clinging to her favorite toy. He was blushing, squirming, and softly saying, “I told you they'd come…”

“Let them!” Tanya snapped, kissing the top of his head possessively. “They can wait.”

The door shook with another round of knocking.

Kamla’s voice boomed, “TANYA PUTTAR, OPEN THIS DOOR! Don’t make me break it!”

Tanya sighed dramatically and carried Arjun to the door herself—still firmly held in her arms.

She opened it to find Babita, Kamla, and the entire gang glaring at her.
Babita gasped. “You… you’re still holding him?!”

Tanya smiled sweetly. “Yes. I had to rock him to sleep. Poor thing was so overwhelmed.”

Kamla stepped forward. “Time’s up, beti. Hand over the baccha.”

Arjun, now embarrassed beyond belief, mumbled, “Can I please just sit for a bit—”

“No!” Babita snapped. “You’ve been in HER lap for three hours. It’s MY turn now.”

Tanya tightened her grip. “I don’t mind sharing. But he stays with me tonight.”

Kamla stepped in between. “NO one keeps him without permission. Now, hand him over or—”

“Or what?” Tanya raised a brow, still rocking Arjun gently in her strong arms. “You’ll wrestle me for him?”

There was a long silence.

And then Kamla rolled up her sleeves.

—

Eventually, a peaceful treaty was struck… with a condition. Every woman there—including Kamla, Babita, Tanya, and the others—would each get 20 minutes with Arjun. A full rotation. Then they would vote who would get to keep him overnight.

They set up cushions in Tanya’s living room. Arjun was passed around like a celebrity baby.

Tanya whispered sweet nothings in his ear as she rocked him chest-to-chest.

Babita gave him a bottle of warm almond milk and fed him while bouncing him gently in her lap. “Just imagine this every night once we’re married,” she cooed.

Kamla, not to be outdone, carried him like a newborn, walking in slow circles and singing a lullaby. “Say mummy, baccha…”

“Aunty—uh—I mean… mummy,” Arjun sighed.

The room exploded in laughter.
By the end of the night, Arjun was drowsy, red-faced, and too tired to protest.

Kamla declared, “He’ll sleep in MY lap tonight. End of discussion.”

But Babita crossed her arms. “Fine. But I’m sleeping beside you. I’m not giving up that easily.”

Tanya grinned. “Then I’ll bring the pillows.”

And so, Arjun found himself rocked to sleep in Kamla’s lap, flanked by two strong women—Babita and Tanya—both gently patting him and whispering lullabies, as though he were a prized, pampered little baby prince.

—-

It had been a few days since the Tanya incident, and Arjun’s life had taken a new routine — one he never could’ve imagined even in his wildest dreams.

Morning: Kamla Didi would wake him up, bathe him, and carry him down for breakfast like her baby boy.

Afternoon: Harmeet would feed him and rock him for a nap on the garden swing.

Evening: Babita would return from college, scoop him into her arms without asking, and announce, “Come, hubby, time for your cuddles.”

Arjun had stopped trying to resist. His soft protests — “But I’m 40… you girls are in your twenties…” — were usually answered by effortless scoops into the air, peals of laughter, and lots of kisses on his forehead.

But today, Babita had something special planned.

Scene: Babita’s College Lawn — Girls' Hangout.

Arjun had been dressed up again — this time in a pink kurta-pyjama, his hair neatly combed and parted, a baby-pink scarf tied around his neck like a bib. Kamla Didi had added kajal to his eyes and even applied a touch of baby powder.

Arjun sulked, “Why am I dressed like a birthday boy?”

Babita grinned, lifting him into her arms. “Because today’s a very special day, meri jaan.”

Arjun sighed as she carried him to the college lawn, where around ten girls aged between 20 and 25 were waiting, all dressed in bright lehengas and jeans-kurti combos, their eyes twinkling with curiosity and mischief.

When they saw Babita carrying Arjun like a groom’s baby doll, they clapped and cooed.

“Awww! So cute, Babita!”

“Is this your baby or your fiancé?”

“More like a baby-sized husband!” one girl giggled.

Babita set him down on a satin-covered stool. Arjun immediately tried to get up—but two girls gently pushed him back down, giggling as they fed him laddoos and rubbed his cheeks.

The Big Moment:
Babita stood in front of everyone and dramatically went down on one knee.

“Arjun,” she said sweetly, “you’re 40, unmarried, and absolutely helpless in our hands. We’ve rocked you, bathed you, fed you, and carried you through markets, parks, and even college.”

She held up a tiny velvet box and opened it — revealing not a ring, but a pacifier studded with imitation diamonds.

“Will you be my baby husband for life?”

The girls burst into laughter and cheers. Arjun turned red as a tomato. “This… this is too much…”

Kamla, who had just arrived with Harmeet, joined the crowd and said proudly, “Say yes, baccha. Or mummy will get angry.”

Babita gently picked him up again, holding him upright in her arms, his feet dangling, his arms pinned to his sides.

“Come on, Arjun,” she whispered, nuzzling his cheek, “say yes. Or I’ll bounce you till you do.”

Arjun sighed. “Yes… okay… yes.”

The lawn erupted in cheers. Girls tossed rose petals. One girl played a dhol on her phone app.

Kamla Didi declared, “Shaadi ki date fix! But no pheras — just lap par ghoomna!”

Ending Scene:
Babita carried Arjun back home in her arms, humming a wedding tune. Arjun, too tired and embarrassed to argue anymore, rested his head on her shoulder.

As they passed a group of elderly aunties, one of them asked, “Beta, who is this sweet little boy?”

Babita beamed. “My fiancé!”

The aunties blinked, then laughed. “Oho! Looks like the dulha is going to need diapers!”

Arjun buried his face in Babita’s dupatta in pure, helpless humiliation.