Twin Dreams
BY: SIMAR JHUNDH
Images by Winta Assefa
The kitchen, with its familiar scents of chai, turmeric, and the faint sweetness of gurh, felt like a sanctuary as the twins sat at the weathered table. The scratches and stains on its surface told stories of years gone by, of summers spilling rooh afza and countless conversations that had shaped their lives. The hum of their parents’ voices from the living room, punctuated by the jingle of Prime Asia, was a comforting backdrop to the weighty discussion unfolding between Amrit and Simran.
Amrit stirred her chai absently, the spoon clinking against the ceramic mug as she stared into the swirling liquid. “A forensic scientist,” she murmured, half to herself. “Apparently, I want to waste my life chasing laashan.” Her mimicry of their uncle’s thick Punjabi accent drew a snort from Simran, who was barely balancing her chair on two legs.
“Yeah, well, at least you’re not pursuing a ‘dog-washing’ career,” Simran shot back, her voice dripping with mockery. She flung the University of Guelph brochure onto the table. “Do you remember what Dad said to me yesterday? I should aim higher. Like being a dentist. Because apparently, animal mouths do not count.”
Amrit chuckled, though the sound lacked its usual warmth. “Classic Dad. He’ll then say you should open a mechanic shop because it pays better than ‘being a glorified zookeeper.’” The words hung in the air, heavy with the unspoken pressure they both felt. The faint smell of turmeric lingered, a reminder of the life they were trying to navigate—one that often felt at odds with their parents’ expectations.
Simran groaned, letting the front legs of her chair hit the ground with a dull thud. “You think they’ll ever get it?” she asked, her voice tinged with frustration.
Amrit set down her spoon, tightening her grip on the warm mug. “I don’t know,” she said gently. “But this isn’t something we’re doing for them, right? This is about us.”
Simran tilted her head, a half-smile playing on her lips. “You say that now, but wait until Mom cries at the Gurdwara because her daughters didn’t become doctors.” She nudged Amrit’s arm. “So, what’s our backup plan? If we’re disowned, we’ll need rent money.”
Amrit grinned, her mood lifting. “Paw and Order,” she announced dramatically, eliciting a laugh from Simran. “I solve crimes; you care for their dogs. We’ll be wealthy by twenty-five.”
“You’re ridiculous,” Simran replied, shaking her head. “But I like it. And I’ll hold you to it.” The tension in the room eased slightly, and Amrit looked out the window, her fingers drumming gently on her mug. “At least our cousins get it,” she said, her voice softening. “Harjit and Amandeep said they actually support us. They don’t care what the adults in our family think. They get that a vet is a real job.”
Simran’s expression shifted from sour to relaxed. “At least Harjit and Amandeep won’t look at me like I’m insane. They’ve already pledged to come to my clinic, regardless of how many cows arrive with sick stomachs.”
Amrit laughed. “They’re the only ones who don’t consider us failures for not pursuing the ‘real career’ path. To be honest, I believe that if we’re going to do this, we need to work together. We’ve got them in our corner.”
Simran smiled at her twin, feeling slightly lighter. “Guess we’ve got ourselves a little team, huh?” Amrit raised her mug in a faux toast. “To Paw and Order and to our cousins who get it.” Simran clinked her mug against Amrit’s, both of them laughing despite the circumstances. As their laughter subsided, the weight of the conversation still lingered, but for the first time that day, the future didn’t feel so daunting.
Simran smirked, crossing her arms. “We’ll deal with Mom and Dad later. Let’s just hope they don’t disown us immediately.”
Amrit rolled her eyes, setting her empty mug in the sink. “If they do, I’ll tell everyone it was your idea.”
The moment was interrupted when their mom’s voice rang from the doorway. “What was her idea?” Simran’s head whipped toward the door, where their mom stood, arms crossed, her sharp gaze bouncing between the twins. Behind her, their dad appeared, his expression unreadable.
“Nothing!” Simran said quickly, but Amrit hesitated, guilt flickering across her face.
“Girls,” their dad said, his voice low and commanding. “What’s going on?”
Amrit and Simran exchanged a look before Simran took a deep breath and stood. “We... just submitted our university applications,” she said.
“To where?” their mom demanded, her voice tight.
“And for what?” their dad added, narrowing his eyes.
Simran glanced at Amrit, who nodded subtly, as if to say just tell them. Simran swallowed hard. “I applied to the veterinary program at Guelph.”
Amrit’s voice followed immediately. “And I applied to forensic science at UTM.”
Their mom’s face froze in disbelief. “Hai Rabba! Are you serious?”
Their dad frowned, his arms crossing over his chest. “Veterinary? Forensic science? These aren’t real careers.”
“They are,” Simran shot back, her voice trembling but firm. “Vet medicine is a respected field. It’s about saving lives, helping animals, and it’s a good-paying job in Canada, no matter what it might mean in India.”
“And forensic science is about solving crimes, bringing justice,” Amrit added. “It’s important work—just as important as being a doctor or an engineer. We’ve done the research. We know what we’re doing.”
Their dad stepped forward, his voice rising. “We didn’t come to this country for you to waste your lives! You had opportunities—real ones. You could’ve been a doctor, a lawyer. But no. You want to chase dead bodies and take care of dogs?”
Simran flinched at his words, but Amrit stood taller. “You always tell us to work hard, to follow our dreams. That’s what we’re doing. This is what we’re passionate about.”
Their mom shook her head, throwing up her hands. “What will people say? What kind of rishtay will you find with these jobs? No one will understand—”
“This isn’t about what people will say, Mom,” Simran interrupted, her voice breaking. “This is about us. About doing something meaningful to us.”
The room fell into a heavy silence, their parents staring at them, their faces a mixture of disappointment and confusion. Finally, their dad sighed, shaking his head. “And what if you fail?”
Amrit took a step closer, her voice steady. “Then we’ll fail together. But we’re not going to fail, Dad. We’ll work hard. We’ll prove to you that we can make this work.”
Their mom rubbed her forehead, muttering something under her breath in Punjabi. “You two...” She looked up, her expression softening just slightly. “You’re too stubborn for your own good. Just like your dad.”
Their dad grunted, but there was no mistaking the flicker of a smile at the corner of his mouth. “If you’re going to do this, you better make it worth it. Don’t come crying to us if it doesn’t work out.”
Simran exhaled deeply, relief washing over her. “We won’t.”
Their mom gave them one last look, then turned toward the living room. “I’m not telling the relatives about this yet,” she muttered. “Let them think you’re still applying for medicine.”
Amrit and Simran exchanged a quick grin as their dad followed their mom out of the kitchen.
Simran let out a long breath, collapsing back into her chair. “Well,” she said, her voice light with disbelief, “that could’ve gone way worse.”
Amrit laughed, nudging her with her elbow. “Yeah. I thought for sure Dad was going to start calling the neighbors to complain.”
Simran smirked. “He still might.” She paused, a spark of excitement in her voice. “But we’re really doing this, Amrit. We’re actually doing it.”
Amrit raised an imaginary glass, grinning wide. “To us—and proving them wrong.”
Simran clinked her mug against the air, laughing. “To prove them so wrong.”
Their laughter echoed in the kitchen, cutting through the tension that lingered like the faint smell of turmeric. For the first time, their dreams didn’t feel so far away—they felt real.
Punjabi Words Meaning And Cultural References
Prime Asia → A prominent Punjabi TV Channel/Media Outlet that gives information about the world in Punjabi for Punjabis living in both India and abroad.
Gurh → Sugar-caned blocks that can make a little snack to eat and can be used in things like chai.
Rooh Afza → A sweet rose-flavoured syrup that can be added into milk during the summer and makes a cool refreshing drink to enjoy. It’s very popular in South Asian cultures.
Laashan → The Punjabi word for dead body. The twin’s uncle says the Amrit is going to be chasing dead bodies for a job and mocks that.
Parchi → The Punjabi word for piece/sheet of paper.
Gurdwara → The Sikh place of worship.
Hai Rabba → Punjabi for Oh God (can be used if you want to be a bit dramatic)
Rishtay → Punjabi for marriage proposal as it is a common thing in the Punjabi community
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Simar Jhundh was born in Brampton and is a grade 12 student at Chinguaousy Secondary School. She is a proud Punjabi Canadian student. She began writing in 2024, as a way to express herself in a creative outlet. She currently lives in Brampton and “Twin Dreams” is her first published short story. She likes to unwind by reading and watching tv series.
