Rent, Recipe Aur Ek Extra Chair

Kabir Mehta ka life ekdum disciplined spreadsheet jaisa tha. Subah 8:30 alarm, 9:15 tak chai, 9:45 tak laptop open, aur 10:00 se pehle office login. Pune ke IT park ke paas jo uska 1BHK tha, woh zyada flat kam aur “bas kaam chal raha hai” zyada lagta tha. Ek bedroom, ek hall jahan sofa-cum-bed type arrangement tha, kitchen mein ek induction, aur balcony mein do plants jo Kabir ne 3 baar “abhi zinda raho” bolke bachaya tha. Uska routine bhi wahi—office, calls, traffic, aur dinner mostly Swiggy se. Kabhi misal pav, kabhi poha, kabhi kuch bhi jo “delivery within 30 mins” ka promise kare. Bahar se woh full practical, low-maintenance, “bas rent aur sleep” type banda lagta tha. Andar se? Thoda lonely. Aur thoda zyada foodie.

Building mein Deshmukh Kaka ka naam sunte hi log seedhe apni awaaz dheemi kar lete the. Retired government office wali proper vibe—safed shirt, ironed pants, chappal bhi aise pehente the jaise discipline ka certificate ho. Woh landlord se zyada building ke unofficial caretaker the. Lift kharab ho toh unka dekhna, paani kam ho toh unka dekhna, aur rent late ho toh unka dekhna—sab kuch unki nazron mein aata tha. Kabir ke liye woh bas ek formal authority the. Rent collection machine with human face.

Kabir ne unse zyada baat bhi nahi ki thi. Bas “Good morning, Kaka” aur “haan ji, kal transfer kar diya” type exchanges. Kaka hamesha short replies dete—“Theek hai”, “Punctual raho”, “Rules follow karo.” Kabir ko lagta tha yeh aadmi smile bhi tab karte honge jab bank balance check karke relief mile. Phir bhi, building ke ground floor se jab kabhi kadhi kadhi bhuni hui mirchi aur curry leaves ki khushboo aati, Kabir ka foodie part hil jaata. Pune mein rehke Marathi food se door rehna waise bhi crime lagta tha. Misal pav, thalipeeth, vada pav, sab uske radar mein the. Aur haan, Kabir kabhi-kabhi lift mein kisi aunty ya uncle ke saamne aise bol deta tha jaise woh local culture ka certified ambassador ho. “Arre, kolhapuri style zyada better lagta hai,” ya “mataji, varan-bhaat ka alag hi comfort hai.” Sach yeh tha ki usko aadhe dishes ke naam bhi second-hand confidence se aate the.

Us din message aaya: “Aaj shaam ko rent ke liye milna hai. — Deshmukh.”

Kabir ne phone dekh ke sigh kiya. “Haan, obviously,” usne khud se bola. “Rent ke alawa aur kya ho sakta hai?” Usne mentally prepare kar liya ki shayad koi late fee lecture milega, ya building maintenance ka naya drama. Office se wapas aake woh fresh bhi nahi hua tha ki doorbell baj gayi.

Kabir ne door khola toh uske saamne Deshmukh Kaka khade the. Aur unke saath—ek tall, messy hair wala, overconfident sa ladka, hoodie pehne, phone haath mein, aur face pe full “main cool hoon” expression. “Namaskar,” Kaka ne seedha bola. “Yeh mera grandson Rohan hai.”

Rohan ne phone pocket mein daala aur ek half-salute jaisa gesture kiya. “Hi bhaiya. Kabir na? Dada ne bola aap food person ho.”

Kabir blink kiya. “Food person?”

“Matlab,” Rohan grin karke bola, “building mein lift ke andar aapne ek baar bola tha na, ‘misal mein farsan ka crunch important hota hai.’ Dada ko laga aap local taste samajhte ho.”

Kabir ka pehla thought tha: Maine yeh kab bola? Doosra thought: Mere casual food comments bhi surveillance material ban gaye? Kaka andar aaye bina bhi andar aa gaye—unke presence se hi room ka temperature change ho gaya. Rohan unke peeche-peeche chala, jaise har family meeting mein ek extra commentary track ho.

“Kabir ji,” Kaka ne seedhe mudde pe aate hue kaha, “ek purani recipe ke baare mein baat karni thi.”

Kabir ne eyebrow raise ki. “Recipe?”

Haan, wohi. Rohan ne explain kiya ki unki Aaji—Deshmukh Kaka ki late wife—ek special Marathi dish banati thi, jo family mein legendary thi. Problem yeh thi ki notebook mein recipe incomplete thi. Kuch steps missing the. Kabhi ingredient ka naam missing, kabhi quantity, kabhi timing. Kaka ko lagta tha koi clue building ke kisi old tenant ya nearby kitchen se mil sakta hai.

Kabir ne instantly defensive mode on kar liya. “Mere paas recipe ka kya kaam? Main toh bas yahan rent pe rehta hoon.”

Rohan ne hansi daba ke bola, “Relax yaar, interrogation nahi hai. Dada bas pooch rahe hain. Aapne kabhi building ke aas-paas kisi aunty ko woh dish discuss karte suna ho?”

Kaka ne apni chashma thoda adjust kiya. “Aur yeh bhi ki, tum kabhi local food ke baare mein bolte ho. Socha ho sakta hai kuch suna ho.”

Kabir ko yeh sunke aur bhi ajeeb laga. Usko laga yeh indirect inspection hai—pehle kitchen, phir fridge, phir “tenant lifestyle audit.” Kaka ka tone waise bhi hamesha serious hota tha, aur Rohan ka tone aisa jaise sab kuch joke ho. Dono ka combo Kabir ke mood ko aur tight kar raha tha.

“Honestly,” Kabir ne thoda dry tone mein bola, “main sirf rent time pe deta hoon. Family rituals aur recipe secrets ka part nahi hoon.”

Room mein ek second ka silence aa gaya. Rohan ka face thoda change hua. Kaka ki aankhen aur sakht ho gayin. “Rituals?” Kaka ne dheere se bola. “Haan. Tenant log aate-jate rehte hain. Ghar ki cheezein samajh nahi paate.”

Kabir ko laga yeh seedha uske khilaaf judgement hai. “Main bas yeh keh raha hoon ki mujhe isse kya lena-dena?”

Kaka ne ek saans li. “Toh phir theek hai.”

Rohan ne beech mein haath utha ke situation ko save karne ki koshish ki. “Arre, aap dono full misunderstanding mode pe chale gaye. Bhaiya, Dada ka matlab woh nahi tha—”

Par Kabir ne darwaza thoda zyada open karke indirectly message de diya ki baat yahin khatam karte hain. Kaka ne bina kuch aur bole ek folded paper table pe rakha aur nikalne lage. Rohan ne paper ki taraf dekha, phir Kabir ki taraf, phir Kaka ki taraf. “Main baad mein call karta hoon,” Rohan ne low voice mein bola aur Kaka ke peeche chal diya.