Gujju Love

"Tum Rajkot se ho, toh tumhe pata hi hoga," woh hasi. "Lekin Ahmedabad ka taste alag hai."

"Bilkul alag," maine kaha, uski aankhon mein dekhte hue. "Bahut alag."

Woh samajh gayi. Woh hamesha samajh jaati thi.

---

Teesri Mulaqat - Gehra Connection

Do hafte baad...

Ab hum roz milne lage the. Kabhi cafe mein, kabhi kisi Pol mein. Mera Rajkot se aana, Ahmedabad mein rehna, sab temporary lagne laga. Kyunki har roz, woh mera reason ban gayi tha yahan rehne ka.

Ek din, baarish ho rahi thi. Hum "The Pol House" mein baithe the, dono ek hi table pe — ab toh woh "hamari table" ban gayi thi. Window pe baarish ki boondein gir rahi thi, aur andar coffee ki fragrance.

"Dev, tum apne papa ke baare mein kabhi bataate nahi ho," Pooja ne poocha, apni coffee peente hue.

Maine kuch der socha. Papa — Mr. Vyas — strict hain, lekin fair. Unhone hamesha mujhe support kiya, lekin unka apna dukh tha. Mummy ki death ke baad, woh aur zyada quiet ho gaye the.

"Papa... woh businessman hain. Practical. Lekin jab mummy thi..." maine ruka. "Jab mummy thi, toh ghar mein zyada warmth tha. Ab sab formal sa lagta hai."

Pooja ne apna haath mere haath pe rakha. Pehli baar. Itna natural laga, jaise hamesha se woh wahan tha.

"I'm sorry, Dev. Mujhe nahi pata tha."

"Nahi, it's okay. Woh 5 saal pehle ki baat hai. Cancer tha. Lekin kabhi kabhi..."

"Kabhi kabhi kya?"

"Kabhi kabhi lagta hai ki agar woh hoti, toh shayad main aur zyada openly baat kar paata. Papa se relationship thoda... distant hai."

Pooja ne squeeze kiya mera haath. "Tumhare papa tumse pyar karte hain, Dev. Bas shayad express nahi kar paate. Business world mein reh ke woh bhool gaye honge emotions express karna."

"Tum itni samajhdaar kaise ho?" maine muskurate hue poocha.

"Mummy ne sikhaya. Sarita mummy... woh emotional intelligence ki master hain. Unhone hamesha kaha, 'Pooja, har insaan ki ek kahani hoti hai. Usse suno, samjho, phir judge karo.'"

"Smart mummy hai tumhari."

"Best hai," woh proud smile di. "Aur tumhare papa bhi best honge. Bas thoda time do unhe."

Us din, humne bahut kuch share kiya. Apne bachpan, apne dreams, apni insecurities. Pooja ne bataya ki uske papa ki death jaldi ho gayi thi — woh bhi 10 saal pehle. Tab se mummy ne hi uska palan poshan kiya, aur uski education.

"Mummy ne kabhi nahi roka mujhe. Chahe main history padhna chaahti thi — 'log kya kahenge' types — lekin mummy ne kaha, 'Jo tera passion hai, woh kar. Paisa aata jaata hai, satisfaction nahi.'"

"She sounds amazing," maine kaha.

"Woh hai. Aur mujhe pata hai, woh tumhe bhi pasand karengi."

Maine uski taraf dekha. Woh bhi. Aur phir... woh moment tha. Woh perfect moment jisme kiss ho sakti thi. Lekin maine apna haath uske haath mein liya, aur bas usse pakda raha.

"Thank you, Pooja," maine kaha. "Yahan aake... tum mil gayi. Shayad yahi reason tha ki main yahan aaya."

Woh aankhein badi badi ho gayi. "Dev..."

"Sorry, too cheesy?"

"Nahi," woh hasi. "Perfect tha. Bahut perfect."

---

Hardik Ka Teasing Aur Papa Ki Approval

Ek mahina beet gaya...

Hardik — mera cousin, jo Ahmedabad mein hi rehta tha — ab mujhse roz poochhta tha. "Bhai, kya chal raha hai? Koi Ahmedabad ki ladki ne dil chheen liya kya?"

Ek din, maine usse sach bata diya. Hardik ne mujhe zor se jhappi di. "Finally! Maine socha tha tu toh bachelor hi marega!"

"Chup kar, yaar."

"Nahi, seriously. Main Pooja ko jaanta hoon. Acchi family hai. Unka blog bahut famous ho raha hai. Aur tu... tu toh artist hai. Perfect jodi!"

"Lekin Papa..."

"Papa ko main sambhalunga. Tu tension mat le. Woh strict hain, lekan unfair nahi."

Woh sahi tha. Jab maine Papa — Mr. Vyas — ko Pooja ke baare mein bataya, toh unhone pehle toh kuch nahi kaha. Bas suna. Phir ek din, unhone kaha:

"Rajkot aa jao, Dev. Mujhe dekhna hai yeh ladki kaisi hai."

Main darr gaya. Lekin Pooja confident thi. "Chalo na, main bhi aaungi. Unse milna chahti hoon."

Papa ke office mein, jab Pooja ne unse haath milaya, toh unki aankhon mein kuch tha. Respect. Pooja ne unse unke business ke baare mein poocha, unke interests ke baare mein. Aur phir, usne unhe apne blog ke baare mein bataya — "Pol Stories."

"Sir, aapke bete ne mere liye ek logo design kiya hai. Woh dekhna chahenge?"

Maine woh logo nikaala. Woh jo maine chhupake banaya tha — Pooja ke blog ke liye. Heritage style mein, "Pol Stories" likha hua, ek beautiful jharokha ke saath.

Papa ne dekha. Kuch der tak dekha. Phir unhone kaha: "Bahut khoobsurat hai. Professional quality."

"Thank you, sir," Pooja ne kaha, proud se.

"Nahi, thank you nahi. Yeh toh mera beta banata hai aise kaam. Lekin tumne usse inspire kiya. Main Dev ko pehli baar itna passionate dekhta hoon kisi project mein."

Woh din, Papa ne mujhe gale lagaya. Pehli baar mummy ke baad. Aur Pooja ke saath dinner pe gaye. Unhone Pooja ki mummy — Sarita aunty — se baat bhi ki phone pe.

"Achhi family hai," Papa ne kaha raat ko. "Tum khush ho, toh main khush hoon."

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Surprise Gift Aur Woh Special Shaam

April ki shaam...

Pooja ka birthday aa raha tha. Main kuch special karna chahta tha. Logo toh maine already banaya tha, lekin kuch aur... kuch personal.

Maine ek week tak kaam kiya. Uske blog ke liye ek complete brand identity — logo, color palette, business cards, social media templates. Aur saath mein, ek sketchbook filled with sketches of her — woh cafe mein baithi hui, woh Pols mein ghoomti hui, woh has rahi hai, woh serious hai.

Us din, maine use "hamare cafe" mein bulaya. Woh aayi, aur maine blindfold kiya uski aankhon pe.

"Dev! Yeh kya kar rahe ho?"

"Surprise hai. Trust me?"

"Hamesha."

Maine use table pe baithaya. Phir blindfold hataya.