Dil ki Dilli

Food Festival Fiasco

The sun bathed the food festival grounds in a golden hue, illuminating the colourful stalls that stretched endlessly before us. The air buzzed with excitement as Sanju and I weaved our way through the lively crowds, our senses overwhelmed by the intoxicating blend of spices and the clinking of utensils. We had been counting down the days to this festival, eager to taste the best of Delhi’s culinary treasures, and now that we were here, it felt like stepping into a dream.

"Avni, try this!" Sanju's voice broke through the noise, her eyes wide with excitement as she handed me a steaming plate of momos. The rich aroma of the spicy dumplings hit my nose, and I grinned, ready to indulge.

But before I could savour a single bite, everything happened in a blur. I stepped forward, and suddenly—bam! I collided with something—or rather, someone—hard and warm. The plate of momos flew from my hands in a messy whirl, scattering across the pavement. My beloved camera slipped from my shoulder, clattering loudly on the ground.

"Oh no, I’m so sorry!" a deep voice cut through my shock.

I looked up, and my breath caught in my throat. Standing in front of me was a man—tall, with broad shoulders, and a face that could stop traffic. His dark hair was tousled, and his piercing brown eyes were locked on mine, sparkling with an amused glint. For a moment, everything around us seemed to fade—the bustling festival, the noise, the chaos—and all I could focus on were those eyes.

He bent down to retrieve my camera, and as I crouched beside him, our fingers brushed. A jolt of electricity shot through me, leaving me momentarily speechless.

"Are you okay?" he asked, concern softening his handsome features as he handed me the camera, his touch lingering for just a second too long.

I blinked, shaking myself out of the daze. "Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry about the momos."

He chuckled, a low, rich sound that sent a flutter through my chest. "No worries. I’ll buy you another plate. It’s the least I can do for knocking you over."

Before I could respond, Sanju swooped in, her grin as mischievous as ever. "Avni, meet Rohan. Rohan, this is Avni."

I straightened, brushing the dust from my jeans. "Nice to meet you, Rohan. Though I wish it hadn’t been with momos flying everywhere."

Rohan’s smile widened, and something about the way he looked at me made my pulse quicken. "Likewise, Avni," he said, the sound of my name on his lips sending a thrill through me. "I guess I’ll remember this moment every time I see a plate of momos."

I couldn’t help but laugh, the awkwardness of the situation melting away in the warmth of his smile.

As we parted ways, Rohan disappearing back into the sea of people, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted. I barely heard Sanju chatting next to me as we continued exploring the stalls. My mind was spinning, replaying that brief encounter over and over.

"Sanju, who exactly is Rohan?" I whispered, glancing back toward the crowd where he had vanished, his name now echoing in my thoughts.

Sanju’s eyes sparkled with knowing amusement. "Rohan Khurana," she said with a sly smile. "He’s a well-known foodie and entrepreneur. Owns a bunch of trendy cafés all over Delhi. The guy’s basically a culinary celebrity."

My heart skipped a beat. Of course, he was. Rohan Khurana—someone who lived and breathed food, just like me.

The rest of the festival passed in a blur. No matter how delicious the dishes were or how vibrant the atmosphere was, I couldn’t stop thinking about Rohan—his eyes, his laugh, the way our brief interaction had left me feeling something unfamiliar. Something thrilling.

As we made our way out of the festival grounds, the sun beginning to dip below the horizon, Sanju gave me a playful nudge. "You know, Avni, you and Rohan would make a great team. Two foodie souls—sounds like fate, doesn’t it?"

I rolled my eyes, though my heart wasn’t quite as dismissive. "Oh, please don’t start with the matchmaking, Sanju."

But as I said the words, I couldn’t help but smile. The idea of Rohan lingered in my thoughts, his charming grin refusing to leave me alone. And though I tried to push it aside, a part of me knew—this wasn’t the last time our paths would cross.

As fate would have it, Rohan Khurana was about to enter my life in ways I never expected. And little did I know, that one moment of spilled momos was only the beginning of something far more delicious.