The Wedding Heist

Mission Entry

Rohan “Roti Radar” Mehta ne apni shirt ki collar seedhi ki aur mirror mein khud ko dekhkar woh confident smile di, jo sirf do cheezon ke baad aati thi—ya toh viva clear hone ke baad, ya phir buffet ka address milne ke baad.

“Aaj ka plan simple hai,” usne kaha, jahan uski aankhon mein bhookh aur dimaag mein strategy dono chamak rahe the. “Shaadi mein ghusna hai, khaana khaana hai, aur parcel leke nikalna hai. Bas.”

“Bas?” Mansi “Mapless” Verma ne eyebrow uthaayi. “Tu aise bol raha hai jaise wedding hall nahi, koi canteen hai.”

“Canteen mein itna variety nahi hota,” Bunty “Buffer Zone” Sinha ne dheere se bola, aur nervousness ke maare ek namkeen packet khol liya. “Waise bhi mujhe lag raha hai koi na koi pakad lega.”

Zoya “Zero Budget” Khan ne apne baal ek dramatic flip ke saath set kiye. “Pakdega tab na jab hum average dikhेंगे. Aaj hum average nahi, unforgettable banenge.”

Rohan ne ek chhota sa card sabke haath mein diya. “Fake identities. Maine sab arrange kar diya.”

Mansi ne card dekha. “Oh wow. Main ‘Mansi Verma, media intern’ hoon. Tu ‘Rohan Mehta, family friend’. Bunty ‘event helper’ aur Zoya ‘cousin from Kanpur’?”

Zoya ne card pe nazar daali. “Kanpur? Main Kanpur ki lagti hoon?”

“Tu kisi bhi jagah ki lag sakti hai,” Rohan ne serious face banaya. “Bas entry karni hai.”

Bunty ne apni cap thodi aur neeche kheechi. “Maine suna hai shaadi mein pehle entrance par hi aunties scan karti hain.”

“Isliye hum confidence leke jaa rahe hain,” Zoya boli. “Andar jaake jo hoga, uska bhi confidence se deal karenge.”

Mansi hasse bina nahi reh paayi. “Yeh line kisi motivational poster pe likhni chahiye aur phir usi poster ko jalana chahiye.”

Teen minute baad, chaaron ek lavish wedding venue ke gate par khade the. Fairy lights, flower arches, gold chairs, aur background mein shehnai ka soft music—sab kuch itna polished tha ki Rohan ko laga buffet bhi premium mood mein hoga.

Gate par security uncle ne poocha, “Invite?”

Rohan ne ek second mein smile on ki. “Arre uncle, hum Verma side se hain. Bride ke college wale.”

Security uncle ne unhe dekha, phir list dekhi, phir phir se unhe dekha. Mansi ne uss exact moment pe apne camera ko shoulder par adjust kiya aur casual tone mein bola, “Main candid shots ke liye aayi hoon. Bride ne bola tha college friends se thoda natural content chahiye.”

“Natural content,” security uncle ne repeat kiya, jaise yeh koi legal term ho. “Andar jao.”

Bunty ne jaate-jaate Rohan ke kaan mein phusphusaya, “Bhai, yeh toh sach mein kaam kar gaya.”

“Of course,” Rohan ne chest thokkar bola. “Main Roti Radar hoon.”

“Radar toh abhi buffet ke liye chalu kar,” Zoya boli, aur sab venue ke andar ghus gaye.

Buffet Bliss

Andar ka scene dekhkar Bunty ki aankhen kaanchi ki tarah chamak uthi. Ek side chaat counter tha, doosri side live pasta, phir tandoori, phir desserts, phir ice cream, aur ek alag counter par “Chef’s Special” ka sign laga tha jo khud hi suspense create kar raha tha.

Rohan ne ek gehri saans li. “Yeh shaadi nahi, yeh dream sequence hai.”

Mansi already ek angle se photo kheench rahi thi. “Wait. Main pehle dessert area ka candid loongi. Social media pe log food shots pe zyada react karte hain.”

“Social media baad mein,” Zoya ne uska haath kheench kar kaha. “Pehele plate.”

Aur phir jo hua, woh ek disciplined society ke rules ke against ek spontaneous food festival jaisa tha.

Rohan ne ek plate mein chaat ka perfect mountain banaya. “Just one more plate” uske liye philosophy thi, promise nahi. Bunty ek corner mein khada tha, jaise wo plate nahi, lifetime supply test kar raha ho. Har do minute baad woh bolta, “Bas last item,” aur phir agla item le leta.

Mansi ne ek napkin se face wipe kiya aur whispered, “Yeh sab dekhkar mujhe lag raha hai hum yahan invite pe nahi, inheritance claim karne aaye hain.”

Zoya ne ek spoon se tiramisu ka chhota sa bite liya aur aankhen band kar li. “Rich people really suffer beautifully.”

Rohan ne ek servant ko stop karke pucha, “Bhai, yeh paneer butter masala ka batch refill hota rahega na?”

Servant ne confused hote hue bola, “Ji?”

“Matlab,” Rohan ne turant cover liya, “family log bohot khaate hain.”

Bunty ne usi waqt dusri plate mein papdi chaat bhar li. “Family log isiliye successful hote hain.”

Sabne first round mein aisa khaaya jaise koi race chal rahi ho. Phir second round. Phir third. Phir hidden dessert counter ka discovery moment. Mansi ne ek mini tart dikhate hue kaha, “Guys, yeh dessert area ke peeche ek aur dessert area hai.”

Rohan almost emotional ho gaya. “Yeh wedding hai ya treasure hunt?”

Zoya ne ek panna cotta uthate hue bola, “Treasure hunt mein parcels nahi milte. Yahan milenge.”

Unki victory ka mood tab aur high ho gaya jab Rohan ne corner se bread rolls ka basket dekh liya. Usne ek subtle nod diya. “Plan B.”

“Plan B kya?” Mansi ne pucha.

“Parcel.”

Bunty ne instantly apni pocket mein 2 extra tissue papers rakh liye, jaise yeh koi official packing material ho.

Sab kuch smooth chal raha tha, tabhi ek middle-aged relative ka radar un par pad gaya. Auntie in maroon saree, bindi sharper than her eyesight, unke table ke paas aa khadi hui.

“Arre wah,” auntie ne aankhen narrow karke kaha. “Kaunse side se ho tum log?”

Chaaro ek second ke liye freeze ho gaye.

Rohan ne sabse pehle smile di. “Aunty ji, main Rohan. Bride ke… uh… family friend.”

“Family friend?” auntie ne bola. “Naam pehchana nahi.”

Mansi ne turant camera uthaaya. “Aunty ji, main candid shots le rahi hoon. Bride ko thoda natural coverage chahiye tha.”

Auntie ka focus shift hua. “Achha? Media side?”

“Ji,” Mansi ne confidence ke saath bola, jabki uske andar ka dimaag abhi tak buffet counter par tha.