Shaadi Buffet ka Operation: Roti Radar, Mapless, Buffer Zone aur Zero Budget

Rohan Mehta ko agar duniya mein do cheezein sabse zyada pyaari thi, toh ek free food aur doosri free food ke baad bacha hua free food. Isliye jab usne Sunday shaam ko hostel ke bahar apne teen doston ko bulaya, toh uske face pe waise hi expression the jaise koi general war planning kar raha ho. “Aaj ka dinner,” usne sunglasses adjust karte hue announce kiya, “Shaadi ka buffet hoga.”

Bunty Sinha ne ghabra ke idhar-udhar dekha. “Kaunsi shaadi?”

“Arre, Sector 62 wale banquet mein,” Rohan bola. “Mere tuition wale ek student ki bua ki cousin ki shaadi hai. Matlab invitation chain itni lambi hai ki koi verify hi nahi karega.”

Mansi Verma ne apna camera bag shoulder pe theek kiya aur eyebrows utha ke dekha. “Invitation chain? Bhai, tu toh genealogy department khol de. Aur entry ka kya plan hai?”

Rohan ne triumphant smile di. “Simple. Main hoon Rohan Verma—”

“Mehta,” Mansi ne turant toka.

“Arre haan, Mehta. Main hoon Rohan Mehta, groom side ka distant college cousin. Mansi, tu meri cousin photographer. Bunty, tu family friend ka beta. Aur Zoya…” Usne Zoya ki taraf dekha, jo already apni dupatta ko is tarah drape kar rahi thi jaise red carpet pe jaana ho. “Tu… tu event coordinator ki niece.”

Zoya ne ek dramatic sigh diya. “Obviously. Mujhe to role milna hi tha.”

Bunty ne apne pocket se ek small packet nikaala aur ek moongfali daant ke khaane laga. “Mujhe lag raha hai yeh sab galat hai.”

“Galat tab hota hai jab plan na ho,” Rohan bola. “Aur mere paas full plan hai.”

Mansi ne dry voice mein kaha, “Haan, tera plan usually plate count pe khatam hota hai.”

Rohan ne insult ignore kiya, kyunki uske dimaag mein already buffet ke counters chamak rahe the—paneer tikka, chaat, jalebi, gulab jamun, ice cream, aur agar lucky hua toh banquet ka leftover parcel bhi. Uska hidden motive sabse dangerous tha: woh sirf khaana nahi, wedding ke end mein parcel bhi secure karna chahta tha. “Dinner ke baad,” usne low voice mein bola, “main packing counter pe nazar rakhunga.”

“Tu shaadi mein food smuggler hai ya guest?” Zoya ne hass ke poocha.

“Dono,” Rohan ne bina sharm ke jawab diya.

Banquet ke bahar lights aise chamak rahi thi jaise kisi ne poora mall festive mode pe daal diya ho. Gate pe flower strings, LED bulbs, aur ek bada sa board tha: Sharma Weds Sharma. Mansi ne board dekh ke bol diya, “Great. Shaadi mein identity confusion ka scope already built-in hai.”

Andar ghuste hi unhe woh familiar wedding smell hit hui—genda, perfume, frying oil, aur expensive deodorant ka mixed blast. Rohan ka confidence aur badh gaya. “Dekha? Kisi ko kuch bhi pata nahi chalega.”

Bunty ne phir se apni pocket se kuch nikaala. “Main pehle thoda kha lunga. Khali pet mein dhadkan tez hoti hai.”

“Bhai, tu already nervous hai,” Mansi boli. “Aur khaane se aur nervous ho jayega.”

“Par khaane se mera mann lagta hai,” Bunty ne sach bol diya.

Unhone entry pe ek random uncle ko “Namaste, chacha” bola, aur uncle ne bhi bina dekhe “Arre aa gaye” keh diya. Bas, wahi moment tha jab Rohan ne decide kar liya ki universe unke saath hai. Venue ke andar buffet counters ka view milte hi sabke chehre badal gaye. Jo ab tak fake tension mein the, woh ekdum food radar mode mein chale gaye.

“Left counter pe starters,” Mansi whispered.

“Center mein main course,” Rohan added, jaise army map pe positions de raha ho.

“Right side pe dessert,” Zoya ne aankhon mein sparkle ke saath bola.

Bunty ne bas itna kaha, “Aur mere saamne sabse pehle plate.”

Phir jo hua, woh ek normal shaadi nahi, ek coordinated hunger operation tha. Rohan ne plate li aur aise walk kiya jaise buffet uska birthright ho. “Bhai, paneer do, aur thoda aur. Haan, woh green chutney bhi. Nahi, aur thoda. Thanks.” Uski overconfidence itni natural thi ki counter wala ladka khud confuse ho gaya. Mansi ne hidden dessert station spot kiya, jo parde ke peeche ek side table pe tha—rasmalai, brownie, aur mini cheesecakes. “Guys,” usne almost religious tone mein kaha, “I have discovered treasure.”

Zoya ne ek dum se drama queen mode on kiya. “Main toh pehle hi keh rahi thi, life mein hidden things hi sabse sweet hoti hain.”

Bunty, jo already second plate pe tha, ne bas aankh band karke bola, “Main to hidden stress bhi kha raha hoon.”

Pehli baar sabne genuinely khushi mehsoos ki. Free food ka woh nasha alag hi hota hai—jahan plate bharte hi saare problems microscopic lagne lagte hain. Rohan ne ek corner table pe baith ke ek dum organized eating shuru ki, jaise exam hall mein answer sheet fill kar raha ho. Mansi food ke beech-beech mein candid photos lene lagi—plate, lights, decor, aur Bunty ka expression jab usne pehli bite mein paneer pakoda dekha. Zoya ne ek random rishtedaar auntie ke saath selfie-style pose bhi kar diya, aur auntie ne khushi-khushi usse “beta” bol diya.

Bas phir suspicion start hua.

Ek staff member, jo apparently har chehre ko memorize karne ka superpower rakhta tha, unke table ke paas aaya aur bola, “Aap log groom side se hain na? Maine aapko pehle dekha nahi.”

Rohan ka fork mid-air freeze ho gaya. Mansi ne apna smile itna normal banaya ki fake confidence almost real lagne laga. Bunty ne ghabra ke ek extra papad apni plate mein rakh liya, jaise guilt ko crunchy form mein convert kar raha ho. Zoya ne turant situation ka temperature sense kar liya.

“Arre, hum log late aaye the,” Zoya ne full authority se bola. “Traffic tha na. And Mansi ko candid shots ke liye pehle terrace side bheja tha.”

Staff member ne eyebrow uthayi. “Candid shots?”

Mansi ne camera ko chest ke paas lift kiya. “Haan, college project hai. Wedding rituals pe visual documentation. Bride ke family dynamics pe.”

Rohan ne turant add kar diya, “Aur main toh groom ke remote cousin side se hoon.”

“Remote cousin?” staff member bola.