Month-End, Maggi Aur Maut Jaisa Budget

Kabir ko spreadsheet se pyaar tha. Matlab pyaar nahi, proper obsession. Uske laptop mein har cheez ka tab tha—expenses, gym, sleep, water intake, aur ab to kitchen ka bhi. PG ke chhote se room mein jab month-end ka bill, bank balance aur empty fridge ek saath saamne aaye, Kabir ne ek deep breath liya aur bola, “Bhaiyon, ab bas. Bahar ka khana aur nahi. Ek aur burger khaya na toh main direct hostel ke medical room mein admit ho jaunga.”

Rohan chair pe ulta baith ke bola, “Medical room mein admission se pehle kuch kha lete hain yaar. Kal hi maine ek roadside momos khaye the. Aisa laga jaise plastic ne apni life choice galat kar li ho.”

Monty, jo bed pe pade-pade chips ke empty packet ko bhi emotional support ki tarah treat kar raha tha, bola, “Main toh kehta hoon, jo bacha hai usmein se kuch bhi bana lo. Bas taste achha hona chahiye. Aur haan, mehnat kam honi chahiye.”

Vikram, jo hamesha boiled chicken aur protein shake ke saath apni life ko military camp bana leta tha, aaj unusually silent tha. Usne apni shaker bottle side mein rakhi aur dheere se bola, “Honestly… mujhe bhi thoda kuch tasty chahiye. Bas kisi ko batana mat. Main image maintain kar raha hoon.”

Kabir ne un teeno ko dekha, phir apni spreadsheet kholi aur bola, “Decision taken. Kitchen Mission start. Aaj se hum bahar ka khana bandh. Budget bhi bachega, tabiyat bhi.”

Rohan ne ek dramatic hand raise kiya. “Mission naam se kya hota hai? Hum log survive karenge ya nahi, woh important hai.”

“Survive karenge,” Kabir ne confidence ke saath bola, “because I have a plan.”

Monty ne turant poocha, “Kya plan? Order karne ka?”

Kabir ne aankh ghoor ke bola, “No. Grocery list.”

Aur bas, isi tarah unki zindagi ka sabse dangerous aur most underprepared adventure start hua.

Agli subah charon log local supermarket pohonche, jahan Delhi-NCR ki typical Monday energy aur budget crisis dono ek saath ghoom rahe the. Kabir ne list print kar rakhi thi. Rohan ne list dekhte hi bola, “Bro, yeh list nahi, CIA ka mission document lag raha hai.”

Kabir ne serious tone mein bola, “Har item planned hai. Rice, atta, onions, tomatoes, eggs, milk, bread—basic survival.”

Vikram ne shelf se protein oats uthate hue bola, “Aur yeh? High protein.”

Monty ne packet ko ghur ke bola, “Bhai, yeh khane mein ya construction mein use hota hai?”

Rohan ko ek corner mein cheese, mayo, masala noodles, frozen nuggets, aur instant pasta ka zone mil gaya. Uski aankhen chamak uthi. “Dekho, agar taste chahiye toh thoda compromise karna padega.”

Kabir ne immediately counter kiya, “Budget hai.”

Rohan ne ek packet uthaya. “Quality?”

“Budget.”

“Mood?”

“Budget.”

Monty, jo ab tak bas free sampling counter ki taraf emotionally attached tha, beech mein bola, “Bhai, ek kaam karo. Jo sasta ho woh le lo, jo tasty ho woh bhi le lo, aur jo healthy ho… usko side mein rakh do. Future ke liye.”

Vikram ne ek frozen pizza uthayi aur bina kisi sharam ke bola, “Cheat meal ka bhi budget hota hai kya?”

Kabir ne calculator nikala. “Agar yeh le liya, toh tomatoes skip karne padenge.”

“Tomatoes skip,” Monty ne instantly support kiya, “but pizza nahi.”

Supermarket ka scene aisa tha jaise four friends ek saath grocery nahi, apni personality ka referendum de rahe ho. Kabir healthy basics pe atka hua tha. Rohan ko har cheez mein “recipe potential” dikh raha tha, chahe woh packet noodles hi kyun na ho. Monty bas aise items choose kar raha tha jo “easy to eat” ho. Aur Vikram, jo sabse disciplined dikh raha tha, secretly chips aur chocolate sauce ki taraf magnet ki tarah attract ho raha tha.

End mein unhone woh sab khareed liya jo unhe banana nahi aata tha. Paneer. Pasta. Cheese. Bread. Eggs. Mayo. Cornflakes. Soya chunks. Chilli sauce. Frozen peas. Butter. Aur ek random bottle jo Rohan ne confidently uthayi aur bola, “Yeh cooking wine nahi hai na?”

Kabir ne label padha. “Nahi. Vinegar hai.”

“Same vibe,” Rohan ne shrug kiya.

PG wapas aake unhone kitchen ko dekhkar realize kiya ki “mission” shabd kitna innocent tha. Kitchen mein ek chhota sa gas stove, do kadhai, ek pressure cooker, aur utensils ka aisa collection tha jo kisi ne last year ke farewell ke baad use hi nahi kiya tha. Warden ne unhe dekhkar pehle hi warning de di thi, “Baccho, gas sambhal ke. Aur kitchen ko war zone mat banana.”

Monty ne warden ke jaate hi bola, “War zone? Bhai, hum toh bas dinner bana rahe hain.”

Kabir ne apni spreadsheet kholi. “Step one: mise en place.”

Rohan ne blink kiya. “Bhai, Delhi mein English bol raha hai ya French?”

Kabir ne sigh kiya, “Matlab sab kuch pehle se kaat ke rakhna.”

Monty ne onion kaatne se pehle hi aansu baha diye. “Main emotionally ready nahi hoon.”

Vikram ne apna protein shake side mein rakha aur bola, “Main onions kaat dunga. But please, zyada masala mat daalna. Calories…”

Rohan ne usko cut karte hue bola, “Bhai, aaj calories ko holiday de dete hain.”

Phir chaos start hua.

Kabir ne oil measure karke dala, jaise koi scientific experiment ho. Rohan ne usi oil mein butter aur garlic bhi daal diya, kyunki uske hisaab se “flavour ka base” yahi hota hai. Monty taste-test ke naam pe spoon chaat raha tha aur har 30 seconds mein bol raha tha, “Thoda namak aur daal do.” Vikram ne boiled chicken ko dekhkar pucha, “Agar ismein thoda sauce daal doon toh kya crime hoga?”

“Noted,” Kabir ne kaha, “but pehle pasta pakne do.”

Problem yeh thi ki kisi ko pasta pakana proper aata hi nahi tha. Rohan ne paani mein namak daal diya, phir soya sauce bhi, kyunki usne socha “colour achha aayega.” Kabir ne usko roka, toh Rohan ne bura maan ke bread ko butter mein fry karna shuru kar diya. Monty ne toast ko palat-te hue kaha, “Arre yeh toh kaafi sexy smell aa rahi hai.”