chapter 11

It was a breezy Saturday evening when Kabir leaned over the balcony railing, his face lit up with excitement. Aarti was watering her tulsi plant, humming a soft tune when she heard him call out.  “Hey, Mehta!” Kabir waved.  She turned, raising an eyebrow. “What now, Singh? Another chai experiment?”  Kabir smirked. “Not this time. I’m officially inviting you over for dinner tonight. My place.”  Aarti blinked, caught off guard. “Dinner? Your place? What’s the catch?”  Kabir feigned offense, clutching his chest dramatically. “Why do you assume there’s a catch? Maybe I just want to treat my favorite neighbor to a Punjabi feast.”  “Favorite neighbor? I’m your only neighbor,” Aarti teased, setting her watering can aside. “And please tell me you’re not serving butter chicken.”  Kabir grinned. “Nope. Vegetarian, just for you.”  Her eyes widened in surprise. “Wait. You’re cooking vegetarian food? For me? This I have to see.”  “Challenge accepted,” Kabir said confidently. “Be ready by seven. And don’t eat before you come—I’m pulling out all the stops.”  ### **Later That Evening**  Aarti stood in front of Kabir’s door, wearing a simple kurta with her hair tied back. She hesitated for a moment before ringing the doorbell.  Kabir opened the door, wearing an apron that read, *“Born to Cook”*. “Welcome to the Punjabi kitchen, Mehta,” he said with a dramatic bow.  Aarti stepped inside, immediately hit by the aroma of spices. “Wow, it smells amazing in here,” she admitted, glancing around. The table was set neatly with plates, glasses, and a small centerpiece of fresh flowers.  “Impressed already, huh?” Kabir said, shutting the door behind her. “Wait till you taste the food.”  “I’m cautiously optimistic,” Aarti teased, sitting down at the table. “What’s on the menu?”  Kabir walked to the kitchen and began bringing out dishes one by one. “For starters, we have paneer tikka. Then there’s dal makhani, aloo paratha, and my mom’s special recipe for Punjabi kadhi. And for dessert, gajar ka halwa.”  Aarti stared at the spread, her jaw dropping. “Kabir, this is… a lot. Are you trying to feed an entire wedding party?”  He laughed, sitting across from her. “Punjabi portions, Mehta. Get used to it.”  She picked up a piece of the paneer tikka and took a bite, her eyes widening. “This is… really good. Like, restaurant-level good.”  “Of course it is,” Kabir said, pretending to look smug. “What did you expect?”  “Honestly? I thought you’d mess it up somehow,” Aarti admitted, grinning.  Kabir shook his head, laughing. “You have so little faith in me. Come on, try the dal next.”  As Aarti served herself some dal makhani, she glanced at him curiously. “So, what made you go all out with this dinner? I mean, you’re the guy who usually teases me about my vegetarian food.”  Kabir shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. “You’re always sharing your traditions with me—prasad, chai, garba. I figured it was my turn. Plus, I wanted to show you that Punjabi food can be just as good without the meat.”  Aarti paused, touched by his effort. “That’s… really thoughtful, Kabir. Thank you.”  “Don’t get too emotional,” he said, smirking. “You haven’t even tried the kadhi yet.”  She laughed, taking a spoonful of the kadhi. “Mmm. This is amazing. Your mom’s recipe, huh?”  “Yep,” Kabir said proudly. “She’d probably disown me if I messed it up.”  As they ate, their conversation flowed effortlessly. They joked about Kabir’s exaggerated descriptions of his cooking skills and Aarti’s habit of being overly critical of her own work.  At one point, Aarti leaned back, patting her stomach. “Okay, I’m officially stuffed. This might be the best meal I’ve had in ages.”  Kabir grinned. “See? I told you Punjabis know how to eat.”  “Remind me to never underestimate you again,” Aarti said, smiling.  “Noted,” Kabir said, clearing the plates. “But we’re not done yet. Dessert’s still left.”  He brought out two bowls of gajar ka halwa, the aroma of cardamom and ghee filling the air. Aarti took a bite, her eyes closing as she savored the taste.  “Okay, this is unfair,” she said. “How are you this good at everything?”  Kabir leaned back, looking smug. “What can I say? I’m a man of many talents.”  They both laughed, the warmth of the evening settling between them.  As Aarti got up to leave, she turned to Kabir. “Thank you for tonight. It’s been… really special.”  “Anytime, Mehta,” Kabir said, leaning against the doorframe. “Just don’t expect me to go vegetarian permanently.”  Aarti chuckled. “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t dream of it. But you’ve definitely set the bar high for neighborly dinners.”  Kabir watched her walk back to her apartment, a satisfied smile on his face. For once, his bustling kitchen felt less like a workspace and more like a place for connection. And as Aarti closed her door behind her, she couldn’t help but feel that their bond was growing deeper with every shared meal and moment.. To be continue...