Blinkit, Breakup Aur Ek Adhura Order

Rohan ka flat Delhi-NCR ke un flats mein se ek tha jahan insaan kam, cartons zyada dikhte the. One-BHK tha, but usne itni baar order kiya tha ki uska ghar kisi mini-warehouse jaisa लगने लगा tha. Entry pe chips ka stack, kitchen counter pe instant noodles, fridge ke andar half-used sauces, aur bedside table pe toothpaste, batteries, tissues, aur pata nahi kya-kya. Har corner pe kuch na kuch deliver hua pada hota tha, jaise uske ghar ne self-control ke against permanent protest kar rakha ho.

Rohan 26 ka tha, graphic designer. Kaam karta tha, but kaam se zyada “baad mein kar lunga” ko serious career ki tarah follow karta tha. Brief aaya toh “bas 10 minute mein start karta hoon.” Client ka email aaya toh “pehle chai.” Deadline aayi toh “abhi dinner kar leta hoon.” Aur dinner ke baad? Obviously, ek aur order. Kabhi cold coffee, kabhi maggi, kabhi ek single packet of chips, kabhi ek candle because “mood bana ke kaam karunga.” Mood kabhi bana nahi, delivery boy zaroor aa gaya.

Uske liye order karna sirf convenience nahi tha. Ye uska tiny social ritual tha. Jab bhi doorbell bajti, Rohan ka dil thoda sa khush ho jata. Sirf parcel ke liye nahi. Two-minute ki baat-cheet ke liye. “Bhaiya, aaj traffic kaisa tha?” “Bhaiya, rain mein bahut dikkat hui hogi?” “Bhaiya, aapka route kaunsa best rehta hai?” Delivery boys uske liye strangers nahi, daily acquaintances ban gaye the. Unke naam yaad hote the, unke faces yaad hote the, aur unke saath hui chhoti-chhoti baatein uske din ka sabse human part hoti thi.

Unmein se ek tha Bunty.

Bunty 22 ka Blinkit delivery rider tha. Patla sa, alert eyes, aur aisi expression jisse lagta tha ki woh har situation ka pehle se solution soch kar aaya hai. Helmet utaarta toh seedha puchta, “Bhaiya, OTP boliye.” Phir parcel dete hue casually bol deta, “Aapka order hamesha 12 minute mein ready hota hai, sirf aapka decision late hota hai.” Rohan has deta. Bunty bhi. Dono ka equation simple tha: Rohan ko company milti thi, Bunty ko daily quota ka ek stable customer.

Bunty waise observant bahut tha. Usne notice kar liya tha ki Rohan har ghante kuch na kuch mangata hai, aur har order ke saath ek naya excuse bhi hota hai. Kabhi “bas snacks khatam ho gaye,” kabhi “chai ke saath kuch chahiye tha,” kabhi “mood off hai toh ice cream.” Bunty ko samajh aa gaya tha ki ye sab cravings kam, loneliness zyada thi. Par usne kuch bola nahi. Delhi mein sabko pata hota hai, par sab apna kaam karte rehte hain.

Rohan ke flat mein ab itne parcels aa chuke the ki uski landlady ne ek din puch liya, “Beta, tum warehouse mein rehte ho ya rent pe?” Rohan ne hass ke टाल दिया. And honestly, usse khud bhi lagne laga tha ki uska ghar ek running joke ban gaya hai. Fridge mein jagah nahi thi, cupboard ka half space delivery bags ne le liya tha, aur hallway mein shoes ke beech ek unopened protein bar padi milti thi jo shayad do hafte purani thi. But he was fine. Ya at least usne aisa pretend kiya.

Phir Ananya aayi.

Ananya 25 ki corporate lawyer thi. Practical, direct, aur unn logon mein se jo “let’s be honest” bolne se pehle saans nahi leti. Uski life checklist pe efficiency top priority thi. Meetings, deadlines, billable hours, calls, court prep—sab sorted. Rohan ke saath uska relationship bhi, initially, surprisingly sorted lagta tha. Rohan funny tha, creative tha, soft tha. Ananya ko uska easy-going nature achha laga tha. Aur Rohan ko Ananya ka sharp, no-nonsense way. Dono opposite the, toh maybe balance ban jata.

Par time ke saath balance convenience mein convert ho gaya. Ananya jab bhi milne aati, Rohan ya toh late hota ya distracted. “Bas 5 minute,” bolke 25 minute scroll karta rehta. “Main abhi aaya,” bolke delivery track karta rehta. “Sorry, project chal raha hai,” bolke actually kuch chal nahi raha hota. Ananya direct thi, isliye usne pehle patience dikhaya. Phir concern. Phir disappointment.

Us din bhi kuch aisa hi tha. Saturday evening thi. Ananya bina extra drama ke Rohan ke flat pe aayi. Usne pehle hi text kar diya tha: “I’m coming. Door khol dena.” Rohan ne reply mein thumbs up bheja tha. Typical Rohan. Response aisa jaise life ka sabse important kaam ho. Par jab Ananya ne bell bajayi, door turant nahi khula.

Andar se awaaz aayi, “Bunty bhaiya, ek second!”

Ananya ne eyebrow raise ki. Door ke peephole se dekha toh Rohan apne living room mein khada tha, phone haath mein, aur ek delivery boy se baat kar raha tha. Door ke paas aane ke bajaye, woh usse aise engage kar raha tha jaise uski Friday night ka highlight ho. Bunty khada tha, parcel de raha tha, aur Rohan usse pooch raha tha, “Aaj kaunsi route better thi? Noida side ya Gurgaon side?”

Ananya ne door kholkar ek kadam andar rakha. “Hi.”

Rohan startled sa hua. “Oh—Ananya, sorry yaar. Main bas—”

“Bas delivery boy se baat kar rahe the?” Ananya ne dry tone mein pucha.

Rohan ne awkward smile di. “Arre nahi, matlab… Bunty bhaiya se thoda puch raha tha—”

Bunty ne situation samajh li thi. Usne parcel Rohan ke haath mein diya aur polite sa nod karke bola, “Madam, main chalta hoon. Aapka customer bahut loyal hai.” Uske tone mein हल्का sarcasm tha, but not rude. More like professional commentary.

Ananya ne usko dekha aur phir Rohan ko. “Loyal toh hai hi. Mujhe lagta hai tumse zyada Blinkit wale ko tumhari routine pata hai.”

Rohan ne laugh karne ki koshish ki. “Come on, itna bhi nahi.”

Bunty ne, jaate-jaate, bina expression change kiye bola, “Actually madam, mujhe toh unke ghar ka corner-corner yaad hai. Bedroom ke paas wali shelf pe chips rakhta hai, kitchen mein left side pe cold coffee, aur sofa ke neeche… shayad ek remote aur ek existential crisis.”