Blessing in Disguise

Chapter 123: Delhi मेरी जान

Delhi, India

On the 3rd of May, Sitara Singh Randhawa was restlessly pacing her room. As she moved, her pink dress swayed from side to side, and she found herself nibbling on her nails—a habit her husband had often attempted to curb, to no avail. On this day, her anxiety stemmed from concerns about a dear friend. It was surprising how a bond could strengthen so profoundly in a mere fortnight, yet Sitara had formed a deep connection with her new friend who had recently come to stay with them.

Sitara was fond of her friend and it pained her to see the underlying sadness that her friend's smiles and playful demeanor couldn't mask. The inability to alleviate her friend's sorrow was driving Sitara to distraction. Her friend, almost a year younger than Sitara, carried an air of maturity that spoke of life's harsh trials—experiences far beyond what she had faced. The woman had endured hardships uncommon for their age, and Sitara felt there was much wisdom to gain from her.

However, at this moment, her friend's melancholy was Sitara's sole focus. She couldn't bear the sight of a loved one in distress, especially alone. In her life, only a handful of people held significant places in her heart, and her new friend had earned such a spot just 13 days prior. The knowledge that her friend was troubled weighed heavily on Sitara. As she continued to pace, she was resolute in her quest to find a way to cheer her friend, to bring joy back into her life.

Amid her restless contemplation, Sitara's thoughts settled on a familiar comfort: food. It was her go-to source of happiness, and she hoped it would uplift her friend's spirits as well. Her mind wandered to the flavors that always brought her joy: the tangy gol gappe, savory chaat, creamy dahi bhalla, hearty chole bhature, and the crispy moongdal pakode found near Connaught Place. Her affection for her city was immense. Despite her travels across India and beyond, no place resonated with her soul quite like Delhi. Other cities had their charms, but her heart belonged to Delhi, with its unparalleled culinary delights.

The prospect of indulging in a gastronomic adventure through Delhi's streets brought a smile to Sitara's face. Her excitement was short-lived, however, as the air-conditioner's gentle hum ceased, signaling another power outage. Frustrated, she flopped onto the edge of her bed, cursing the electricity board and the relentless summer heat. With May's arrival, the city was already engulfed by scorching winds and temperatures climbing past forty degrees, conditions under which her husband forbade her from enjoying street food.

The summers were a bittersweet affair for Sitara. She adored the breezy summer dresses, like the pink one adorned with green florals she donned, complementing her recently ombre-tinted hair. Ice cream was another seasonal treat she cherished, but the frequent power cuts and her husband's stringent prohibition against street food during the sweltering months, citing health risks, dampened her spirits. Even her cravings for momos were vetoed. Whenever she expressed a desire for something, it was recreated by the chefs at home, who, while skilled, couldn't quite capture the authentic essence of street fare.

Conveying this sentiment to the great Ranveer Singh Randhawa seemed an impossible feat. With a roll of her eyes, Sitara dismissed the thought.

As though her thoughts had the power to summon him, Ranaveer gently pushed the door open and paused there. His wife was talking to herself again, a habit she seemed unaware of. Whenever deep in contemplation, his Tara would whisper her reflections, barely audible unless one was close by. Ranaveer, considering himself an expert on all things Sitara, could discern a few words, typically about food.

He lingered in the doorway, a smile playing on his lips, ankles casually crossed, his back resting against the frame—a stance Sitara affectionately dubbed the "book pose." However, he seldom grasped her animated banter.