chapter 27

Aarti stood in the middle of the empty restaurant space, hands on her hips, eyes scanning the bare walls. “This place has potential,” she said, more to herself than to Kabir, who was leaning against the doorway, sipping his chai.  Kabir smirked. “That’s architect-speak for ‘this place looks like a mess.’”  Aarti rolled her eyes. “It is a mess, Singh. But a beautiful mess—with the right design, it’ll have warmth, character… a blend of both our worlds.”  Kabir walked up behind her, peeking over her shoulder as she flipped open her sketchpad. “Okay, genius. Tell me what you’re thinking.”  Aarti grinned and pointed to her sketches. “So, I was thinking we merge both aesthetics. A little bit of Punjab, a little bit of Gujarat. Imagine—old wooden kachhi doors, but with bright, hand-painted phulkari patterns.”  Kabir raised an eyebrow. “You want to put Gujarati doors with Punjabi embroidery?”  “Why not?” Aarti challenged. “It’s a fusion restaurant, right? The decor should match the food.”  Kabir chuckled. “I like it. What else?”  Aarti flipped to the next page. “Seating. No boring chairs and tables. We go for charpais with colorful cushions, like in a Punjabi farmhouse, but mix it up with traditional Gujarati low seating in one section.”  Kabir’s eyes lit up. “That’s perfect! People can sit cross-legged on gadla like they do in Ahmedabad, or chill on charpais if they want that dhaba vibe.”  Aarti grinned. “Exactly! And for lighting—brass chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, mixed with vintage Punjabi laltens. Cozy but vibrant.”  Kabir nodded approvingly. “And the entrance? It has to make a statement.”  Aarti smirked. “Oh, don’t worry. I already planned for that. A tiny, vintage "truck front" Cutout at the entrance, like those Punjabi lorries with crazy colors and ‘Horn OK Please’ signs.”  Kabir burst out laughing. “Are you serious?”  “Dead serious,” Aarti said. “But with‘Horn OK Please,’ it’ll say "bhale padhrya”  . Kabir shook his head in amazement. “Mehta, you’re a genius.”  Aarti flipped her hair dramatically. “Tell me something I don’t know.”  Making It HappenFor the next few weeks, Aarti was at the restaurant space almost every day, overseeing the design work.  One afternoon, Kabir walked in with "cutting chai" and "pakoras", watching as Aarti argued with a carpenter about the exact shade of blue for the charpais.  “I said "royal blue", not navy! There’s a difference!” Aarti huffed, hands on her hips.  Kabir watched her working for a while. He gave Aarti a cup of tea and said, "Take some rest and food." Kabir also fed Aarti pakodas with his own hands and like that -  both of them were enjoying the work. When the work was finished, Kabir saw the place changed and said to Aarti, "You know? I have a reason but you have given it a life."They exchanged a look—one filled with admiration, partnership, and something deeper.  This wasn’t just Kabir’s dream anymore. It wasn’t just Aarti’s design project.  It was "theirs" - their dreams, their work.  And it was just the beginning.. To be continue...