𝐀𝐧 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 ✔

Neil's Hospitality (Part 2)🤭

Hie!!!!

Hope you all are doing well..

Will be regular with the further updates now as Many stories are pending and many stories are yet to come soon.All are being edited .So thought of completing my stories.

Few more chapters are left.

Chapters for  foodies ....🤭

Enjoy reading..

Dhoni had hit the ball high in the air and were waiting for the commentator to reveal if it was
a six or a catch.
Staring at the bubbles in my glass of Coke, I thought, ‘Now the next question you will ask me is
‘Will you be able to iron her saree?’ Or, ‘Do you sing? Arey, kuch gaa ke sunao na?’ See!
This is what happens when you come to such places without your parents. The other party tries to
validate you on different platforms so candidly, and you cannot say no to every question.’
I tried to come up with some answer, looking at my cellphone and wishing that it would ring so
that I could escape the questions which I was going to face. But the damned gadget was meant to ring
only at the worst times—like the evening before, with the kiss that could have been—but never when
I needed it the most.
Finally, swallowing a few times in my nervousness, I went ahead and told them what they wanted
to hear.
‘Ah, umm … Yes, I can. With most of the things, I am kind of OK. But I make good paranthas …’ I
hadn’t even completed, when her sweet and innocent mother, delighted by my answer, asked me,
‘Kaun kaun se paranthe?’
‘Now this is too much!’ Well, I didn’t actually say that, but that’s what I was thinking and I wondered if I was supposed to recite a menu list, like waiter from the Punjabi dhaba.
But, interestingly, the next moment I had a smile on my face. I was amused at the kind of questions
being put to a buisnessman. I never thought I’d be facing such an interview, not even in my
weirdest dreams. I was happy that, for a change, I was being asked such different questions. I told
myself, ‘These were not bad  questions  Neil  but exciting ones. Be confident and go ahead.’
And I went ahead and said, ‘Mumma, I can prepare many—aaloo ke, pyaaz ke, occasionally gobhi
ke and mooli ke bhi in the winters.’
‘Wow! Neil, that’s good. When did you learn all this?’ sunehri asked. She seemed to be quite
interested.
And I told him, ‘When I was in Belgium for eight months. I lived there alone and had to cook for
myself. Before that, I never did any cooking. Necessity is the mother of invention, you know …’
Keeping my glass of Coke back on the table, I told them the story of my first day in the kitchen,
where I wanted to make a mixed-veg dish, but ended up preparing a hot pool of spicy, coloured
water in which vegetables were swimming. Some of them were so over-boiled, they turned into
paste and
settled down at the bottom.
And, as was expected, everybody laughed at Day One of my Cookery Show. My avni, with a
mouthful of soft-drink, was trying to, somehow, hold back her laughter. Sunehri laughed loudly
and almost clapped her hands. It felt good.
And, soon, it was 2 p.m. No one realized how much time had passed—or, at least, I didn’t.
‘Lunch is ready,’ riya announced.
By now I had made a little space in my tummy for the rajma which avni said she had made
for me. She knew it was my favorite.
We all moved towards the dining table, pulled out the chairs and sat. And she sat right in front of
me. I was looking at my future wifey, thinking, ‘A few months later, we will be having our lunch,
dinner and breakfast together and, that too, in the same plate.’
Amused with the same thought, I opened the lid of the bowl in front me.
‘riya, you also come,’ said  sunehri, taking some salad. The dining table was full of various
dishes: paneer, raita, aaloo gobhi, salad, a rice bowl along with a casserole of chapattis and my
favorite rajma. The cutlery appeared new, the kind that was brought out for special occasions.
Everyone at the dining table was helping themselves and each other, passing the food stuff. I was
trying to get a serving spoon from the other end of the table, when avni stopped me and silently
said, ‘Wait, I will get it.’
She picked up the spoon in one hand and a bowl in the other and served me. Then, she placed
some salad on my plate, and asked me, ‘Chapatti or rice?’
I was looking at my caring sweetheart, who was helping me with my lunch. I was smiling inside,
maybe even outside, and in my heart I asked her, ‘You will always take care of me this way …
Right?’
‘Chapatti or Rice?’ she again asked, raising her brows.
But who was hungry then? Her care and love for me had already filled me. Still, I said, ‘A … A …
Chapatti.’
With her beautiful hands she opened the casserole and quickly moved her hand back to avoid the
hot steam. Her bangles tinkled. Then, with three fingers she folded two chapattis in half and, very
gracefully, placed them on my plate. She looked at me and smiled. I wanted her to feed me with her
own hands so that I could lick her beautiful fingers … All of a sudden, I wanted to marry her and
marry her very soon. So that I could lie down in her lap. So that I could have my meals from her
hands.
Everyone went ahead with the lunch. The moment I had that bite I knew those anxious eyes were
expecting a response from me. I looked up into her charming eyes and told her I loved what she had
prepared for me. She smiled and felt so satisfied when she noticed that I had the rajma before
anything else. She then took her first bite, after I did.
We got busy with our meal and the conversation reduced and narrowed down to the appreciation
of the lunch and the people who had prepared it. I believe it was quarter to three when we were
through. I was all packed with delicious food, pudding and fruits (dessert, for which I struggled to
make some space in my tummy).
Conversation resumed at the sofa and chairs again. This time it involved humor—good jokes,
poor
jokes, and jokes which were not jokes at all. Even her mother was laughing aloud, along with us
youngsters. And, at times, I noticed a different smile. A smile which was not on her lips, but in her
eyes. A smile which told me that she thought I was a nice guy. A smile which revealed that, soon, she
would be prepared to give her daughter to me, for the rest of her life. A smile which was blessing🙂me
and her, for a bright future. And somewhere, silently, that smile also whispered in my ear the words
from her heart, ‘With her, I will be giving you my heart. Take care of her … Always’
It was 4 o’clock in the evening when we had a cup of tea.  ...

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A foodie chapter isn't it?

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