In the bustling city of Mumbai, lived a restaurateur named Advay Malhotra. With a humble beginning, born into a poor family, Advay had always harbored a burning desire to work hard and earn enough money to fulfill his requirements. He was not a man...
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As the first rays of the morning sun peeked through the window, casting a warm glow upon the checkered tablecloths. I walked into the bustling kitchen of my restaurant, the aroma of various spices and ingredients filling the air. I glanced around at the chefs feverishly working on their respective stations, chopping, sautéing, and grilling with precision and focus. I approached the group and cleared my throat to get their attention.
"Did you all cut the vegetables?" I inquired, my voice firm but with a touch of concern. The chefs looked up from their tasks, their expressions a mix of determination and exhaustion.
One of them, a seasoned chef with a tall white hat, wiped his hands on his apron and replied, "Yes, Sir. We've chopped, sliced, and diced everything according to the menu specifications. The vegetables are ready to be incorporated into the dishes."
I nodded, relieved to hear that the preparation was on track. "Good job, everyone. Keep up the pace and ensure the quality is top-notch," I encouraged them, acknowledging their hard work and dedication. The chefs nodded in unison.
As I emerged from the kitchen, I sighed and informed the chef about my departure. I left the restaurant and climbed into my car, to check on the another restaurant. As I sat behind the wheel, exhaustion washed over me, and I let out a weary yawn, my body aching from lack of sleep. The traffic signal ahead turned red, and I waited impatiently, my mind racing with thoughts of the long day ahead.
AT NIGHT
As I walked through the front door, I called out, "I'm home, Mom!" Hearing her familiar footsteps padding towards me, I could tell that she was eager to catch up on my day.
"Welcome back, dear. How was your day?" my mom asked, her warm smile lighting up the room. "It was good, just a bit tiring," I replied, settling down at the kitchen table while she poured a cup of tea for me. She sat across from me, her gaze full of love and understanding.
"Tell me all about it. What happened at work today? "I launched into a detailed account of my day, from the hectic morning to the funny incident with one of the customer. Mom listened attentively, offering words of encouragement and support along the way.
I took a long sip of water from the tall glass on the kitchen counter, feeling the cool refreshment trickle down my throat. Just as I set the glass down, my mom glanced over from the stove and reminded me, "Don't forget to change your clothes before dinner.
I nodded, knowing that my sweaty clothes would be uncomfortable during dinner. I hurried upstairs to my room to change. As I rummaged through my closet for a fresh outfit, I could hear the clinking of pots and pans in the kitchen below as my mom prepared our meal. Within a few minutes, I emerged from my room in a clean set of clothes, ready to enjoy dinner.
Amidst the sweet symphony of clanging utensils, I descended the staircase, entranced by the heartwarming spectacle that unfolded before me. My Mom, Ruhani , with her radiant smile, delicately arranging each morsel upon our plates. My Dad, Aman, with his infectious charm, teased her playfully, eliciting a rosy blush that illuminated her face.
