A Taste of Lucknow, and Trouble

Next day in the morning after playing streat cricket with the nearby neighbourhood people.

He went to eat something

The rich aroma of tunday kebabs drifted through the air, mingling with the sharp scent of sizzling spices and charcoal smoke. The bustling lanes of Aminabad were alive with food stalls, chatty crowds, and the rhythmic clank of metal plates being stacked and served.

Arjun stood at a small, greasy table, licking the leftover masala off his fingers as he devoured the legendary Tunday Kababi's galouti kebab roll. Each bite melted in his mouth, bursting with spices so intense they made his nose tingle.

"Damn," he muttered, mouth half-full. "I missed this taste in my last life."

He was mid-bite when a sudden voice snapped him out of his food trance.

"Excuse me, mind answering a few questions?"

Arjun turned, expecting some nosy local — but what he saw made him pause mid-chew.

A woman stood there, notepad in hand, phone ready to record. She wore a crisp white shirt, half-tucked into her skinny jeans, paired with black sneakers. Her straight brown hair fell just past her shoulders, and her kohl-lined eyes had this sharp, no-nonsense focus that said she wasn't here to waste time.

But the first thing Arjun noticed wasn't her professional vibe. It was her curves, her bright red lipstick, and the fact that she was at least six or seven years older than him.

He swallowed quickly, wiping his hands on his jeans, trying (and failing) to act like a mature grown man. "Uh… questions about what?"

She glanced down at his worn-out cricket bat resting against the table. "You're a player, right? I saw you knocking a few shots down the street earlier. Not bad for a street cricketer."

Arjun smirked, leaning back against the table. "Not just a player, future legend."

"Future legend, huh?" She raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a teasing smile. "Big talk for a kid covered in kebab grease."

Arjun felt his cheeks heat up — though he quickly covered it with his usual cocky grin. "Confidence is my middle name, Didi."

"Didi?" She nearly choked on her laugh. "Do I look like your older sister?"

"Well…" Arjun's eyes flicked down, then back up, very deliberately. "Definitely not."

She gave him a mock glare, though the slight flush on her neck betrayed her amusement. "You're bold, I'll give you that. So, what's your name, future legend?"

"Arjun Mishra. Remember that name — you'll be writing articles about me for the next twenty years."

She scribbled the name down in her notepad, shaking her head with a laugh. "God, you're impossible."

"And you?" Arjun tilted his head. "What's your name, beautiful reporter Didi?"

Her eyes narrowed, but the smile tugging at her lips didn't fade. "Rhea. Rhea Kapoor. And I'm not your Didi."

"Noted," Arjun grinned. "So, Rhea… since you're already here, want me to show you around Lucknow's finest street food? Or are you just here to interrogate me?"

"Food tour from a cocky 16-year-old? Tempting." Rhea tapped her chin theatrically. "Alright, legend-in-the-making. Let's see if you know this city half as well as you claim."

Arjun grabbed another kebab roll and handed it to her. Their fingers brushed for a moment, just enough to make Rhea pause for a split second. Arjun didn't miss it — and neither did the mischievous glint in his eye.

"This is just the first stop, Ms. Reporter," he said. "Stick with me — I'll show you why Lucknow isn't just the City of Nawabs, but the city where legends are made."

She took a bite, her eyes widening at the burst of flavor. "Okay, Arjun Mishra. You've got my attention — for now."

As they walked off into the crowded lanes, Arjun knew one thing for sure — this world was already throwing interesting twists his way.

And this particular twist… wore red lipstick and smelled like vanilla and ambition.