It was a beautiful evening. The van with the name imprint "Priya Catering Services" was running on the roads of Delhi, here and there. The last stop was RSP Law Firm, the van stopped and out came a cute and chubby lady with her duppatta tied around her waist. She marched inside like she owned the place but she didn't. It was just the confidence and familiarity she had build with the place since years. Preeta the manager of PCT.
She went inside and asked the receptionist to return the lunch boxes. The office help was sent to bring them back and she waited but then she saw Mr Rakesh coming to her.
"Helloji! Rakeshji!"

"Hello! Preetaji!"

"What happened? Today's not payments day Ji."

"Yes! I know. I just wanted to tell from now on send one extra tiffin to our office and give this box to Sumanji. And to Sumanji only."

"But why Ji? What happened?"

"Today, our new boss joined office. Malhotra Sir's son. He ate from my tiffin today. He asked me to send this box back to the Head chef of the PCT."

"Okay fine Ji! But tell me did he not liked the food?"

"I guess he liked, and sent a feedback in here."

"Oh!okay Ji. I just hope she doesn't get angry."

All the boxes were taken back in the van and Preeta and the driver were on her way to PCT. Boxes were unloaded and taken to clean up while one box sat in Preeta's hand to be delivered to Suman Tiwari.

Suman Tiwari was the founder, owner and Head Chef of PCT. She was the granddaughter of Raghuvir Tiwari, veteran lawyer. And  niece of Mr and Mrs Tiwari. She had been living with her Mama, Mami, cousin Preeti and the little one Dabbu after her parents' demise when she was four years old. She was a double personality type of person. One was Suman, as the name says soft and calm like a flower. And other, Sumo! Sumo wrestler who fights the world to stand on her feet. According to the PCT staff, she was a ticking bomb, can explode at smallest of mistakes.
But there was a bag of emotions and pain hidden underneath the layers of her heart.

Preeta gave that box to Suman who was sitting at her desk. And told her whatever Rakeshji told except for the part who sent it. She was scared if she knew she would go to that person and pour out her anger on that person that would rage up after she reads someone pointing out mistakes in her recipe. She suspected so.
Suman was confused as she opened the box and saw a yellow coloured paper folded inside. She took the paper out but just as she was about to open it, she received a call. She picked up the phone and got busy with the person on line while her hands took the paper from her hand  towards her purse where it was dropped.

That paper was forgotten until 10'o clock at night when Suman sat on her bed with some bills etc to be tallied. She suddenly remembered the evening incident and took out the paper from her purse. She unfolded it to see a beautiful cursive handwritten letter. For her? Who wrote it? And why?

Dear Chef,
                   Are you a magician? You took me to my past, the bittersweet memories of my childhood. How? Your food Mam. Must be wondering how do I know you're a 'Mam'. I asked my manager but I didn't get your name. I didn't want to. I want to live this illusion of an unknown person about you. This is the first time I've had food from your service. And your Daal recipe reminded me of someone. Thank you!
Your new Customer
S.M.

Shravan Malhotra had come to Delhi after ten years. He basked in the sun and heat of Delhi which he missed for ten years in London. His decision to go to London was not based on the pros of Oxford  but pros of leaving India. On his last day of school he was betrayed by his best friend and his mother. After ten years he had realized what his mother did was in her ego while what his best friend did was her stupidity. He could never forget his mother turning her back on him though she was wrong while his best friend was running behind him the moment she realized how much she hurt him. She was screaming for him but he did not turn around and sat in the cab. He saw in the rear view mirror how she ran almost a kilometer behind the car. And she fell, still she stood up with blood on her hand. He held his heart as he remembered her eyes full of guilt and tears. It was his ego that did not let him go back to her. His fragile broken heart which did not let him forgive her.
He came back a fortnight ago and today was his first day at his father's law firm. Apparently, his Kamini chachi was busy with some Pooja preparation at home so nobody made lunch for him. His father and brother ate from a catering service everyday so they didn't care but he was hungry. Manager Rakesh noticed him trying to choose between pizza and other things so he offered him his box. Shravan was delighted but asked him what he would have. To which he told him about his fast. The food of PCT was favorite of everyone at the firm and without a doubt Shravan also became a part of the fandom but....he could sense the familiarity of the food. The daal!

Suman smiled and kept the letter in the drawer. It felt good that someone was happy because of her cooking. The daal recipe was close to her heart as well. It had his memories with it.

Love,
Zindagi.