This is going to be a bit lengthy story; I want to make it short but is tempted to describe it preciously!
let me introduce you with the characters first
Meet Venket, Venkat was the quintessential Tamil guy—structured, disciplined, and with a love for filter coffee that bordered on obsession. His days at the bank were punctuated by a steady stream of numbers and customer complaints, a far cry from the organized chaos of his college days. But Venkat’s routine was about to be shaken up in a way he hadn't anticipated.
Meet Kriti, Kriti was a whirlwind of color and energy. Born in Rajasthan, she brought with her a vibrancy that was a stark contrast to the often-grey world of academia. She had a knack for brightening up any space with her presence, and the lab where she spent most of her time studying was no exception.
Their first encounter was a collision of worlds. Venkat was taking a shortcut through the college campus to avoid the usual traffic when he stumbled into the chemistry lab, expecting to find it empty. Instead, he found Kriti, deeply engrossed in a volatile experiment, her hair tied up in a messy bun, and her lab coat stained with an array of colorful chemicals.
"Hey, watch out!" Venkat said as he dodged a flurry of papers that Kriti had accidentally knocked over.
Kriti looked up, momentarily startled, and then broke into a grin. "You must be new here. Nobody dares to enter this lab without a hazmat suit."
Venkat, trying to mask his embarrassment with a half-smile, replied, "I guess I’m feeling particularly reckless today."
Their banter was light, and before they knew it, the conversation shifted from chemical reactions to their favorite foods. Kriti’s eyes sparkled as she talked about Rajasthani cuisine, describing the rich flavors of dal baati Churma and the spicy kachoris.
Venkat, intrigued and slightly hungry, said, “I have to admit, I’ve only had a taste of Rajasthani food once, and it was at a wedding. It was amazing, but I don’t remember much other than the fact that I was in love with the dessert.”
Kriti laughed, “That sounds like a wedding, alright. But I’ll show you what real Rajasthani food tastes like.”
Weeks passed, and Venkat found himself spending more time with Kriti. Their friendship blossomed as they shared study sessions, laughter, and stories about their respective states. Venkat’s Tamil delicacies and Kriti’s Rajasthani treats became their regular exchange.
Kriti would bring in a spicy Gatte ki sabzi for lunch, and Venkat would counter with a soothing sambar rice. Their culinary exchange became an essential part of their growing bond, and they often joked about starting a food blog together.
One evening, as they sat on a grassy knoll overlooking the city, Kriti was excitedly telling Venkat about a new dish she had invented, inspired by both Tamil and Rajasthani cuisine. Venkat watched her animated expression, feeling a surge of admiration and something deeper he couldn’t quite place.
Without warning, a gentle breeze blew, and Kriti’s laughter was momentarily drowned out by the soft rustling of leaves. The moment seemed perfect, and Venkat, driven by a sudden rush of emotion, leaned in and kissed Kriti. It was a sweet, hesitant kiss, filled with the promise of something more.
Kriti pulled back slightly, her eyes wide, but there was no fear—only the same spark that had drawn them together. She took a deep breath and whispered, “I didn’t expect this, but I’m not complaining.” Warmth embraced!
Their relationship, once kindled, was like an unstoppable force. They spent their weekends exploring hidden cafés and street food stalls, where Venkat would marvel at Kriti’s ability to identify the most authentic flavors. Their evenings were filled with cooking experiments, where they combined Tamil and Rajasthani elements in ways neither had ever imagined.
One particularly memorable night, they found themselves alone in the chemistry lab—the same place where they first met. The lab, now a familiar setting, felt more like their personal space. As they experimented with combining spices and ingredients, their laughter and playful arguments about the perfect balance of flavors created a bubble of intimacy.
As Kriti demonstrated her latest creation—a fusion of sambar and laal maas—Venkat’s appreciation for her grew even more profound. He could see the passion in her eyes, not just for cooking but for life itself. They were interrupted by a sudden commotion outside; a burst of laughter from a group of students who had accidentally knocked over a set of beakers. In the midst of the chaos, Kriti and Venkat found themselves alone again, their faces inches apart. The heat from the hot plate they had been using seemed to mirror the intensity of their emotions. Their kiss was deeper this time, filled with the urgency of all the moments they had shared and the future they imagined together.
4 years later, (or is that presently?)
The day of their wedding was a grand fusion of Tamil and Rajasthani traditions. The ceremony was a colorful spectacle of rituals, with Venkat and Kriti’s families coming together to celebrate their union. The food was a highlight, with an array of dishes that showcased their journey together—a beautiful mix of flavors and traditions.
As they stood side by side, exchanging vows, Venkat and Kriti knew that their love was like the dishes they had created together—unique, full of depth, and wonderfully imperfect. They were no longer two individuals from different worlds but a single story of love and shared dreams, bound together in the margins of their lives.
SO, IS THIS A STORY OF FOOD MADE LOVE HAPPEN OR SOMETHING ELSE?
let me introduce you with the characters first
Meet Venket, Venkat was the quintessential Tamil guy—structured, disciplined, and with a love for filter coffee that bordered on obsession. His days at the bank were punctuated by a steady stream of numbers and customer complaints, a far cry from the organized chaos of his college days. But Venkat’s routine was about to be shaken up in a way he hadn't anticipated.
Meet Kriti, Kriti was a whirlwind of color and energy. Born in Rajasthan, she brought with her a vibrancy that was a stark contrast to the often-grey world of academia. She had a knack for brightening up any space with her presence, and the lab where she spent most of her time studying was no exception.
Their first encounter was a collision of worlds. Venkat was taking a shortcut through the college campus to avoid the usual traffic when he stumbled into the chemistry lab, expecting to find it empty. Instead, he found Kriti, deeply engrossed in a volatile experiment, her hair tied up in a messy bun, and her lab coat stained with an array of colorful chemicals.
"Hey, watch out!" Venkat said as he dodged a flurry of papers that Kriti had accidentally knocked over.
Kriti looked up, momentarily startled, and then broke into a grin. "You must be new here. Nobody dares to enter this lab without a hazmat suit."
Venkat, trying to mask his embarrassment with a half-smile, replied, "I guess I’m feeling particularly reckless today."
Their banter was light, and before they knew it, the conversation shifted from chemical reactions to their favorite foods. Kriti’s eyes sparkled as she talked about Rajasthani cuisine, describing the rich flavors of dal baati Churma and the spicy kachoris.
Venkat, intrigued and slightly hungry, said, “I have to admit, I’ve only had a taste of Rajasthani food once, and it was at a wedding. It was amazing, but I don’t remember much other than the fact that I was in love with the dessert.”
Kriti laughed, “That sounds like a wedding, alright. But I’ll show you what real Rajasthani food tastes like.”
Weeks passed, and Venkat found himself spending more time with Kriti. Their friendship blossomed as they shared study sessions, laughter, and stories about their respective states. Venkat’s Tamil delicacies and Kriti’s Rajasthani treats became their regular exchange.
Kriti would bring in a spicy Gatte ki sabzi for lunch, and Venkat would counter with a soothing sambar rice. Their culinary exchange became an essential part of their growing bond, and they often joked about starting a food blog together.
One evening, as they sat on a grassy knoll overlooking the city, Kriti was excitedly telling Venkat about a new dish she had invented, inspired by both Tamil and Rajasthani cuisine. Venkat watched her animated expression, feeling a surge of admiration and something deeper he couldn’t quite place.
Without warning, a gentle breeze blew, and Kriti’s laughter was momentarily drowned out by the soft rustling of leaves. The moment seemed perfect, and Venkat, driven by a sudden rush of emotion, leaned in and kissed Kriti. It was a sweet, hesitant kiss, filled with the promise of something more.
Kriti pulled back slightly, her eyes wide, but there was no fear—only the same spark that had drawn them together. She took a deep breath and whispered, “I didn’t expect this, but I’m not complaining.” Warmth embraced!
Their relationship, once kindled, was like an unstoppable force. They spent their weekends exploring hidden cafés and street food stalls, where Venkat would marvel at Kriti’s ability to identify the most authentic flavors. Their evenings were filled with cooking experiments, where they combined Tamil and Rajasthani elements in ways neither had ever imagined.
One particularly memorable night, they found themselves alone in the chemistry lab—the same place where they first met. The lab, now a familiar setting, felt more like their personal space. As they experimented with combining spices and ingredients, their laughter and playful arguments about the perfect balance of flavors created a bubble of intimacy.
As Kriti demonstrated her latest creation—a fusion of sambar and laal maas—Venkat’s appreciation for her grew even more profound. He could see the passion in her eyes, not just for cooking but for life itself. They were interrupted by a sudden commotion outside; a burst of laughter from a group of students who had accidentally knocked over a set of beakers. In the midst of the chaos, Kriti and Venkat found themselves alone again, their faces inches apart. The heat from the hot plate they had been using seemed to mirror the intensity of their emotions. Their kiss was deeper this time, filled with the urgency of all the moments they had shared and the future they imagined together.
4 years later, (or is that presently?)
The day of their wedding was a grand fusion of Tamil and Rajasthani traditions. The ceremony was a colorful spectacle of rituals, with Venkat and Kriti’s families coming together to celebrate their union. The food was a highlight, with an array of dishes that showcased their journey together—a beautiful mix of flavors and traditions.
As they stood side by side, exchanging vows, Venkat and Kriti knew that their love was like the dishes they had created together—unique, full of depth, and wonderfully imperfect. They were no longer two individuals from different worlds but a single story of love and shared dreams, bound together in the margins of their lives.
SO, IS THIS A STORY OF FOOD MADE LOVE HAPPEN OR SOMETHING ELSE?
You commented even before I posted the thread ji
Thank u
next time i will make it short ji
salute 
