As the day wrapped up, I glanced around at everyone, feeling the weight of the long day finally start to lift. With a smile tugging at my lips, I said, "How about we grab something to eat?"
Nandini, always quick to respond, looked at me with an eager glint in her eyes. "Yes! But what are we going to eat?" she asked, as if anticipating a spontaneous adventure.
I shrugged casually, a bit of mischief in my voice. "Let's just see what we find along the way."
The group nodded in agreement, and we began walking through the lively food street. The evening had set in, casting a soft orange glow over everything as the sun dipped below the horizon. The air was thick with the smell of street food—fried snacks, spices, and freshly made sweets blending into a tantalizing mix. Vendors called out to passersby, trying to lure them in with promises of the best pav bhaji or chaat. The chatter of the crowd created a buzz that seemed to pull us deeper into the heart of the market.
I glanced at my watch. It was just past 7 PM, which meant I had about an hour before I'd have to head home—or risk facing my mom's wrath. My stomach growled, the street food scents working their magic on me. Just then, a small misal pav stall caught my attention. The sight of steaming hot plates being served to customers made my mouth water.
"How about some misal pav?" I asked, turning to the others with a grin.
Lavanya, gave a small shrug. "I don't have any problem with it," she said with a light laugh. "But I'm not going to eat too much."
One by one, everyone nodded in agreement, their faces showing varying degrees of hunger and curiosity. The decision was made, and we made our way over to the small stall. The vendor, an older man with a kind smile, greeted us warmly. The stall itself was simple, with a big pot of misal simmering away, the rich, spicy aroma swirling around us.
As we approached, Parth took charge, ordering for all of us while I looked around at the evening crowd. Families, couples, and groups of friends like us moved through the narrow lanes, the energy around us vibrant and alive. It felt good to be out here, surrounded by the chaos of the city, yet finding our own little pocket of calm.
The vendor handed us our plates, and we gathered around a small, makeshift table nearby. The first bite of misal pav hit with a burst of flavor—spicy, tangy, and perfectly comforting after the long day we'd had. The crunchy sev on top, combined with the soft pav soaked in the curry, was just what we needed.
Lavanya took a small bite and smiled, breaking the comfortable silence. "Okay, maybe I underestimated how hungry I was. This is really good," she admitted, a soft laugh escaping her.
Nandini, sitting beside her, laughed. "See? This is why street food is unbeatable. It's simple, but it always hits the spot."
We all nodded, agreeing as we savored our food. The warm glow of the streetlights above us mixed with the sounds of the city, making everything feel so alive. As we continued eating, I glanced around the table, feeling a sense of camaraderie settle in. The night felt comfortable, the kind of atmosphere that made you want to talk about things that mattered. I leaned forward, breaking the silence. "So, are you all planning to tell your families about the business?" I asked, genuinely curious how each of them was going to handle it.
My question seemed to catch everyone off guard. They exchanged looks with each other, as if silently gauging who would speak first. Finally, Vishal cleared his throat, a thoughtful expression on his face. "I think I'll have to tell them. Especially my girlfriend," he said, glancing down at his plate. "She'll want to know what's keeping me so busy."
I nodded, understanding the weight behind his words. Turning to the others, I noticed they were still deep in thought. Lavanya, always practical, finally spoke up. "But what are we supposed to say when they ask where the funds are coming from?" she asked, a hint of concern in her voice. Her question was fair. We were starting something big, and people would definitely ask.
As soon as she said that, everyone's eyes turned toward me. I could feel the weight of their expectations, but I already had an answer in mind. Smiling, I replied, "Just tell them Sidharth is the one investing. He's your friend and invited you to join him in creating a business. Simple enough, right?"
The group's eyes quickly darted toward Sidharth, who looked like he'd been caught off guard by a sudden gust of wind. His reaction was immediate. "Wait, what?" he blurted, leaning forward. "And what exactly am I supposed to tell my parents? Do you have any idea what my baba will do if he finds out I'm starting a business instead of focusing on politics? He'll kill me!" Sidharth threw his hands up in mock desperation, but I could tell there was real worry behind his words.
I chuckled, trying to calm him down. "Don't worry," I said, my voice steady. "I know you'll be able to handle it."
Sidharth gave me a look, one eyebrow raised in disbelief. "And what exactly do you mean by that?"
Grinning, I leaned back and crossed my arms. "I mean, I know you can manage your father. You're good with people, and you'll give him a reasonable explanation. Just talk to him."
Sidharth shook his head, half laughing, half exasperated. "What the...!" he muttered, clearly not thrilled with my logic, but too resigned to argue. The rest of us couldn't hold back our laughter at his reaction, the tension breaking as we all burst out laughing together.
As we continued to eat, I noticed Parth suddenly stopped mid-bite, his gaze fixed on something across the street. Curious, I followed his line of sight and saw a group of children wandering between the food stalls, timidly asking for leftovers. Their clothes were ragged, faces smudged with dirt, and their eyes held a hunger that went far beyond the craving for a meal. It wasn't just them either; there were more beggars scattered along the busy food street, blending into the hustle of everyday life.
A soft smile tugged at my lips. "What's on your mind, Parth?" I asked quietly, breaking the silence around us. My question made everyone else at the table turn to look at him, curiosity lighting their eyes. Parth glanced back at me, almost startled, as if he'd been lost in his own world of thoughts.
"What are you thinking about?" I asked again, more gently this time.
Parth sighed deeply, lowering his spoon. His face softened, thoughtful lines creasing his forehead. "You know," he started, his voice quiet, "at the Dagadu Sheth Ganpati temple, we feed people every day. It's a small gesture, but it's always made me feel like I'm doing something, you know?" He paused, looking down at his plate, his fingers lightly tracing the edge of the spoon. "But lately, especially since I graduated from university, I've realized… it's not that simple."
His words hung in the air, drawing us all in. Nandini stopped mid-chew, Lavanya rested her elbow on the table, and Vishal leaned forward slightly, all of us waiting for him to continue.
Parth's gaze drifted back toward the street. "Not everything happens the way we want it to. Everyone's so busy with their own lives, their own problems. They don't notice what's happening around them, or worse—they don't care. People waste food without thinking, while there are kids who can't even get one proper meal a day. But it's easy to ignore when it doesn't affect you directly, isn't it?"
Parth's words settled over others like a heavy cloud, the weight of reality sinking in. For a moment, no one spoke, each of them lost in their thoughts. The sounds of the bustling food street faded into the background, replaced by a contemplative silence. I could see the wheels turning in everyone's mind, the questions lingering, unspoken.
I broke the silence with a gentle smile, hoping to lighten the mood but still address the depth of Parth's concern. "You're right, Parth. What you said is exactly how society works. Everyone is caught up in their own lives, their own struggles, and it's easy to overlook those who slip through the cracks. Those homeless people, the ones who don't have enough to eat—that's supposed to be the government's responsibility. But because of corrupt politicians, they don't get the help they need."
I paused for a moment, letting my words sink in. Everyone seemed to hang on my words, waiting for what came next.
"But," I continued, "it's not just the politicians' fault. It's our fault too. We're the ones who choose them as our leaders, out of fear or comfort, or because we think someone else will take care of the problems. One person can't change society overnight, true—but one person has to start somewhere. If we can't change people's mindsets, then we need to change the people in power. Be the leader yourself. Take charge and lead those around you. Am I right, Sidharth?"
I turned to Sidharth, whose gaze had been fixed on his plate the whole time. At the sound of his name, he looked up, his face unsure, conflicted. He glanced back down again, stirring his food absentmindedly.
"I... I don't know," he said quietly, almost as if admitting it to himself.
I leaned forward, my voice soft but encouraging. "You will understand soon enough, Sidharth. Leadership isn't just about titles or power. It's about responsibility. It's about seeing the problems, the struggles, and deciding to do something about them."
He glanced at me, his expression still unsure, but there was something else now—a glimmer of curiosity, of thoughtfulness.
I shifted my gaze to everyone else at the table. "Let me ask you all something," I said, raising a question. "If we feed those people now, what about tomorrow? Will they still have food? And if we don't help them, thinking that tomorrow they'll be hungry again, does that mean it's useless to help them now? Is it wrong to give them something today, knowing we can't solve the problem long-term? Or is it right, because for this moment, we're making a difference, even if it's small?"
My question hung in the air like a puzzle, leaving everyone in deep thought. Parth, Sidharth, Lavanya, Vishal, and Nandini all exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of contemplation and uncertainty.
Lavanya was the first to speak. "I don't know what the right answer is," she said slowly, her voice thoughtful. "But… helping someone, even just for today, has to mean something. Maybe we can't change their lives forever, but for one day, we can make it better."
Nandini nodded in agreement. "Yeah, it's like… even if we can't solve everything, we can still ease their burden, even if just for a little while. Isn't that worth something?"
Vishal, usually quiet during conversations like these, spoke up next. "But then there's the other side of it. If we only help today, what happens tomorrow? They'll still be hungry. They'll still struggle. So, is it really helping, or are we just prolonging the inevitable?"
Sidharth, who had been quiet for most of the conversation, finally spoke. "Maybe the answer isn't about just giving food. Maybe it's about creating opportunities—doing something that makes a lasting change, not just for one day but for the future."
I smiled at their responses, feeling a sense of pride. They were all thinking deeply, challenging themselves, and that's what mattered.
"You're all right, in a way," I said. "Helping someone today doesn't mean you're solving all their problems. But that doesn't make the help meaningless. It's a step—a small one, maybe, but a step nonetheless. And sometimes, that's all it takes to spark something bigger."
As I finished my last morsel, I felt the warmth of my friends' gazes resting on me. I couldn't help but smile, savoring the medley of flavors. Just then, I noticed the familiar warmth radiating from the peacock feather locket around my neck. Suddenly, it began to shimmer softly, a gentle glow emanating from it.
I popped the final piece into my mouth, and as I chewed, a loud belch escaped me—"Brrrpp!" I declared playfully, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. "I think I'm full!"
To everyone astonishment, the group of children nearby, who had been wandering around asking for food, suddenly let out a chorus of belches in unison, their eyes wide with surprise. They exchanged glances as if trying to figure out if this was some sort of game. I chuckled at the absurdity of it all, but the moment quickly grew peculiar.
Then, I noticed it wasn't just the children. Other homeless individuals scattered around the food street also joined in, their belches harmonizing with the laughter and chatter of the crowd. A wave of confusion swept through the nearby diners as people looked around, bewildered.
"What's happening?" someone asked, eyebrows raised, glancing from the children to us.
"Did you hear that?" another person exclaimed. "It's like they all just… reacted to him!"
My friends and I exchanged incredulous looks. "What?" I said, feigning innocence. "I didn't do anything!"
But the scene felt surreal; a strange current of energy flowed through the atmosphere. I noticed some diners whispering to one another, pointing in our direction. "Maybe it's some sort of local tradition?" one woman speculated, while a man beside her shook his head in disbelief. "I've never seen anything like it. Is that boy casting a spell?"
"Or maybe he's just a good luck charm?" the woman suggested, half-jokingly.
Seeing the spectacle, I couldn't help but feel a strange mix of embarrassment and intrigue. "I think everyone is full today," I said, my voice light as I stood up and brushed the crumbs from my hands. "Let's head home."
Laughter erupted from my friends, but it was laced with an undercurrent of curiosity. They looked back at the children and homeless individuals, who seemed bewildered yet strangely uplifted. The kids were smiling, their earlier hunger temporarily forgotten.
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