बारिश में गरीब ससुराल वालों ने खाई मिर्च के पकौड़े| Poor In-Laws Ate Chili Fritters| Cartoon Videos"

#बारिश_में_गरीब_ससुराल_वालों_ने&खाई_मिर्च_के_पकौड़े #Poor_In_Laws_Ate_Chili_Fritters #Cartoon_Videos #Saas_Bahu_ki_Ghar_Gharsthi (Tanzeel) #animtedstories #hindicartoonstory #cartoonkahaniya #AnimtedCartoonvideos #Hindistories #Hindicartoonvideo #Hindicartoonstories #hindistory #hindikahaniya #sasbahu #sasbahukajhghda #naitikkahanai #stories #newstories #garibkikahani #sasbahuladai #sasbahukalesh hi guys this channel is purely made for fun by using high quality animated-videos in 4k. we are fulloy dedidated to entertain you by our video. if you like the video pleàse share and give your valuable comment and feedback so that we can improve. thank *Narration:* It is raining heavily. The entire village is immersed in the rainy atmosphere. Children are running about happily, eating piping-hot fritters (*pakodas*). The aroma of frying fritters wafts from many homes. At the edge of the village stands a dilapidated, mud-and-thatch hut. Water is dripping from the roof in several places. Pooja is catching the dripping water in various vessels. Savitri is trying to save a container of flour from getting wet. Aarav and Ananya are looking out the window at people eating fritters. *Aarav (10) (innocently):* Mommy, fritters are being made all over the village in this rain. Will we ever have fritters at our house too? I want to eat piping-hot fritters just like everyone else. *Ananya (7) (innocently):* Mommy, I want to eat fritters too. "Just make them once, Ma; I’d be so happy." Narration: Pooja looks at the children. She tries to smile, but her eyes well up with tears. Then, she quietly resumes her work. Pooja (32, emotionally): "I’ll certainly make them for you, my children. The day God answers our prayers, piping-hot pakodas will be the first thing made in our home. And we’ll all sit together and eat them." Savitri (58, sadly): "Daughter-in-law, we can’t even fulfill the children's simple wishes. God knows when our family's hardships will end." Narration: Just then, Rajesh enters the house, walking slowly with the help of a cane. His leg hasn't fully healed since the accident. He barely manages to reach the charpai (cot) and sits down, breathing heavily. Pooja (32, anxiously): "What happened? Didn't you get any work today either?" Rajesh (35, dejectedly): "No work today either. Wherever I go, people turn me away when they see me walking with a cane. They say an injured man can't do manual labor. I don't know how we’ll manage the household expenses." Savitri (58, helplessly): "Don't lose heart, son. God may take time, but He never abandons anyone." Narration: A heavy silence falls over the house as everyone listens to Rajesh. Outside, the rain pours incessantly, and the children quietly gaze at their parents' dejected faces. Amidst the heavy rain, Raghunath returns home, drenched. He is holding an old envelope. Everyone in the house looks at him with hopeful eyes. Savitri (58, hopefully): "You're back? You must have received the pension today, right?" Narration: Raghunath opens the envelope without saying a word. He takes out a few crumpled notes and places them on the *charpai*. Seeing the notes, everyone's faces fall. Pooja (32, in surprise): Babuji, is this all the money you received? Where did the rest go? Raghunath (62, sighing deeply): The full retirement amount had arrived, *bahu*, but the Sarpanch said deductions were made for paperwork, processing files, and office expenses. They handed me only what was left. Rajesh (35, angrily): How could they make such a huge deduction? They have no right to snatch away someone's hard-earned money like this. Raghunath (62, in a broken voice): If a poor man asks questions, he gets threatened that the money will be withheld next time, son. That is why staying silent becomes a necessity. Pooja (32, worriedly): Babuji, this amount won't even cover medicines, rations, and the children's notebooks. Tell me, how will the household run now? Narration: A heavy silence falls over the house. Just then, the aroma of piping-hot pakodas (fritters) drifts in from outside. Aarav and Ananya quietly lower their eyes. Savitri (58, sadly): It seems we won't even get to eat chili pakodas during this year's rains. Aarav (10, innocently): Dadi, what are chili pakodas like? Are they very delicious? Savitri (58, trying to smile): Yes, son; every monsoon, I used to make chili *pakodas*. The whole family would sit together and eat them, but perhaps that joy isn't in our destiny this time. Narration: Seeing the children's innocent faces, everyone's eyes well up with tears. The