Chapter 6: Prawns, Jokes, and a New Routine

After that, we bought prawns, eggs, some masalas, and daily needs.

Piece by piece, nothing looked expensive, but it all added up.

In a few days, my university would start.

I needed to save for tuition and leave expenses for Kabir.

Ha.

Life was now a real city survival game.

After shopping, we bought two samosas from a chaiwala—one each for breakfast.

Kabir hugged his samosa, eating with gusto.

But a growing boy needs food—I was running out of money just feeding him.

By noon, Kabir was already hungry, too shy to ask, just looking at me with hopeful eyes.

I rolled up my sleeves, grinned: "Bhai, I’ll make you seven dishes and a soup!"

Kabir swallowed, wide-eyed: "Sach?"

Me: "Bilkul!"

So, here’s what followed—

He watched as I took out a prawn, stir-fried it with green chillies: "Prawn-flavoured mirchi fry, ready!"

Then back in the kadhai, no washing, added boiled eggs, stir-fried with the prawn, soya sauce, salt: "Prawn and egg bhurji, done!"

After that, prawn back in, paneer next...

On and on, the poor prawn did seven rounds—

Prawn-paneer curry, prawn masala omelette, prawn heads with baingan, crispy fried shells, prawn-flavoured mirchi fry, prawn and egg bhurji, prawn noodles, prawn tikki... the table was full.

Kabir stared, speechless: "..."

[Prawn: Mujhe bazaar mein hi chhod dete!]

[Villain ka face dekh, LOL!]

[Laughing fit—who’ll wash the dishes?]

I patted his shoulder, mock-serious: "Seekh gaya? When Didi’s in college, you have to eat properly."

Kabir looked dazed, then hesitantly sniffed the prawn curry. After the first shy bite, a small smile crept onto his lips.

I caught it—my heart warmed.

Under the yellow kitchen bulb, steam misted the windows, and somewhere in the lane, Kishore Kumar’s voice floated from a radio.