Story 3: Tamatar Tinku and the Red Alert

Tamatar Tinku was the most dramatic fruit in all of Sabzi Nagar. With his shiny red skin, round shape, and habit of rolling away at the slightest sneeze, he often created more chaos than a monsoon power cut.

One fine morning, the sun rose lazily over Sabzi Nagar. Birds chirped, pressure cookers whistled, and all was calm—until…

“AAAHHHHHHHHH!”

came a scream so loud that even Bhutta Bhaiyya dropped his roasted kernels.

Everyone rushed to the scene:

• Bindi Bai tripped over her saree,

• Mithu Mango flew in from the mango tree, and

• Chiku Chacha came hobbling with a walking stick made from a cinnamon stick.

And there lay Tamatar Tinku… flat on his back, juice dribbling.

“ARE YOU OKAY?” cried Bindi Bai.

Tinku opened one eye dramatically.

“My skin… it’s wrinkled. I think… I’m becoming… a sauce!”

Chiku Chacha chuckled, “Arrey beta, that’s just one line. You’re not ketchup yet.”

“But look!” he rolled toward a puddle and saw his reflection. “My tomato glow is fading! This is a RED ALERT!”

Mithu Mango, trying not to laugh, said, “Let’s take him to Nimbu Nurse. She’ll know what to do.”

At the clinic, Nimbu Nurse examined Tinku with her sour face.

“Hmmm. Diagnosis: Overthinking with a side of vanity,” she said.

“But—but—but—my glow!” Tinku pouted.

“You just need to drink more pani, eat less drama, and stop sunbathing for 3 hours. That’s not skincare, that’s tomato toast!”

Everyone laughed, except Tinku—who was now covering himself with a banana leaf like a spa robe.

Later that week, Tinku returned to normal, thanks to lots of cucumber water and fewer mirror selfies. And though he still liked to be the center of attention, he now wore a tiny cap that said:

“Not Sauce. Just Sassy.”

Moral: A little wrinkle doesn't mean you're finished. Sometimes you're just ripe for fun!