Dil Se Dastarkhwan
ETF Headquarters was never this lively.
The usually grim and tension-filled atmosphere, laden with the scent of burnt coffee and crisp paperwork, was now replaced by an intoxicating aroma of spices, ghee, and freshly prepared food. It was an unusual day.
It was potluck day.
Sameer Rathore, in all his disciplined, ever-so-serious ACP glory, had come up with the idea after an intense case that had drained the team emotionally. It was his way of unwinding—of making sure his team stayed connected beyond the brutality of their cases. Of course, he’d never admit it outright.
Shree, upon hearing the plan, had been the first to bounce in excitement. “Rathore Sir ne khud bola hai! Matlab aaj toh full permission hai pet puja ki!” he had exclaimed, rubbing his hands together gleefully.
Riya had clapped along, grinning from ear to ear. “Aur imagine karo, sab apne apne culture ka khaana layenge. Uff, maza aayega!”
Arjun had scoffed from his usual spot in the dimly lit corner, leaning against a table. “ETF office ya dhaba?”
Chotu had laughed heartily. “Dono! Aaj hum sab bhukkad ban sakte hain bina kisi guilt ke.”
And so, the plan was made. Sameer, being the proud Rajasthani, was bringing traditional Rajasthani fare. Shree, along with Riya, had taken responsibility for the Bengali delicacies. And Chotu, along with a very reluctant Arjun, had been assigned Maharashtrian food.
***
Riya had reached early with Shree, both carrying heavy tiffins packed to the brim. Shree, struggling under the weight of the food, grumbled, “Riya, yeh tujhse handle ho raha hai kaise? Mujhe lag raha hai main abhi gir jaunga.”
Riya giggled, balancing her own tiffins like a pro. “Shree, Bengali khaane ki ek shaan hoti hai! Rosogolla ho ya shorshe ilish, sab kuch special hona chahiye.”
Shree set the tiffins down on the office pantry table and stretched his arms dramatically. “Bas bas, mujhe samajh aagaya. Tu Bengali food ki walking advertisement hai.”
Just then, Sameer entered, his hands full with two large bags, his usual crisp uniform replaced by a casual kurta. “Sab ready hai?” he asked, looking around.
Riya gasped. “Sir! Aap casuals mein?”
Sameer rolled his eyes. “Tum sab khush hone aaye ho ya taana marne?”
Shree and Riya shared a conspiratorial glance before dissolving into laughter.
Chotu and Arjun entered next, Chotu carrying a massive container. “Bhai, ye basale ka bhaat maine khud banaya hai,” he announced proudly.
Arjun, who had been holding a tray covered in foil, placed it down silently. Shree, ever the curious one, peeked under it. “Arjun Sir ne kya banaya hai?”
Arjun shot him a glare. “Puran poli.”
A collective silence fell.
Then, Riya burst out laughing. “Arjun Sir ne puran poli banayi? Oh my God, mujhe toh vishwas hi nahi ho raha!”
Sameer smirked. “Tumne sach mein banaya?”
Arjun shrugged, looking slightly annoyed. “Khana banana bhi ek kala hai, aur mujhe har kala aati hai.”
Shree whispered to Riya, “Bas pyar jatana nahi aata.”
Riya stifled her laughter while Arjun shot Shree a warning look.
***
The conference room, usually home to evidence boards and strategizing sessions, had been transformed into a dining space. The table was filled with vibrant dishes—daal baati churma, laal maas, shorshe ilish, begun bharta, mishti doi, pithla bhakri, puran poli, and basale bhaat.
Sameer, looking at the spread, folded his arms. “Agar hum case solve karne ki jagah chef hote, toh bhi successful hote.”
Shree, already serving himself some mishti doi, grinned. “ETF ka naam bhi change karna padega phir—‘Elite Tandoor Force’.”
Chotu laughed so hard he nearly dropped his plate.
As everyone settled, Riya reached for a bowl and stopped. “Yeh kaun banaya hai?”
Arjun, without looking up, answered, “Maine.”
Riya took a bite, and her eyes widened. “Yeh toh kamaal ka bana hai!”
Shree dramatically clutched his chest. “Arjun Sir ne khaana banaya aur tasty bhi hai? Matlab mujhe sach mein shock lag gaya hai.”
Sameer, tasting the laal maas he had brought, raised an eyebrow. “Riya, tumhara mishti doi bhi badhiya bana hai.”
Riya beamed. “Thank you, Sir!”
Between bites, jokes flew around, laughter echoed, and for once, there were no criminals, no cases, no stress—just a team enjoying each other’s company.
As they finished their meal, Chotu leaned back, patting his stomach. “Aaj ka din yaad rahega.”
Sameer smirked. “Haan, kal tak jab sabko indigestion hoga, tab yaad rahega.”
Laughter erupted once again.
Arjun, usually the one to remain detached, looked around. The warmth of this moment, the unspoken camaraderie—it was rare. And for the first time in a long time, he allowed himself to enjoy it.
***
As the sun set, the ETF office slowly returned to normal. But for this one day, amidst all the chaos, they had stolen a moment of peace, a moment of togetherness. And it was perfect.
~The End~
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