Soup and Secret (Ft. Shubman and Ishaan )
A/N - My health is down. Completely. Due to professional commitments, work cannot stop. But I have been, more or less, banned from anything unnecessary. Including IPL. Literally banned like my parents have requested. Cannot overturn it. So it is only scores that too after the match.
Well. Life will give you turns, try to imagine you are in a Ferris Wheel. Look out at the horizon, gaze upon the pink hues of impending dawn. And smile through the pain.
A short excerpt with minimal dialogue. The relation can be very well been taken as friendship - in fact I imagine it as a very close friendship. Much like Zampa and Stoinis.
Let me know if I did okay?
Third Person POV
I'm in love with you.
We called off the prank war last night at midnight, dork.
I know.
Ah. Okay. Um. Cool. Neat. Very cool. Cool. Cool. Cool cool cool
Rain was coming down in torrents, hazing up the windows and leaving behind water trails on the window panes. The sound of the water hitting the glass was creating a beautiful symphony of its own; music at its purest.
They had assembled for the pre tournament planning before the start of the world T20 championship and a certain pair of eyes had started showing their desolation as the days passed.
"Are you hungry?"
A shrug.
"What do you want to eat? Want to order in?"
A head shaken.
"Do I cook something? Something light?"
The eyes looked up and Ishaan smiled. "Will you?"
"Of course." Shubman reached out and flicked at his shorter counterpart's hair. "Okay if it is vegan? Then Virat Bhaiya can have some too."
"No issue."
A couple of onions rolled out and Shubman dragged out the sharpest knife from the knife block. They had already been lounging in the open kitchenette and it made things that much more easier.
Chop Chop Chop
The knife rang and sliced into the crisp skin of the onion. Shubman removed the outer peel, and started dicing it into tiny little cubes. Job done, he moved them aside.
A sniffle and Shubman looked around to see that Ishaan was wiping at his eyes.
"Onion enzymes?"
Ishaan nodded and managed a smile; it was becoming difficult to conjure one up these days, but he kept at it.
"It is done now. Can you hand me the Leeks?"
The leeks and then the garlic was chopped up in quick succession. The rain fell harder and the soft crones of an Arijit Singh song undulated throughout the room; Virat had put on the music.
The room had come alight with soft lighting, the sounds of rains and the backdrop of a melodious tune.
Shubman hunted down the glass jar of Olive oil, added in a fair bit into the pot and lighted up the gas.
"Can you stir the pot a bit? The veggies need to sweat some."
"Sweat?" Ishaan crinkled his nose and cocked his head.
Shubman chuckled. "Just don't let them brown too much. I need to cut the potatoes."
Ishaan took over the control of the spatula and gingerly moved the vegetables in the pot. Cooking was far from his strong suit and he really did not wish to spoil Shubman's efforts; he had spoiled enough as is.
Chop chop chop
The potatoes were diced in perfect shapes and Shubman looked at them with no small bit of pride.
Ishaan was grazing at the cooking vegetables with all the attention one would accord a chemistry experiment, and the look of intense concentration on his face could only be termed as adorable.
When Shubman added in the potatoes and some spring onions; Ishaan looked up in some fear.
"More vegetables? I will burn them!"
Shubman chuckled and accepted back the spatula; Ishaan moved back with extreme relief.
"No you won't. You did it perfectly."
The words of praise caused the natural pink of Ishaan's face to brighten and a one sided grin lifted up his lips. "You are being kind," he murmured, fiddling with the containers of spices placed on the granite slab. "I cannot cook to save my life."
"Then I will." Shubman tossed a casual grin at his friend. "Cook and save your life."
A dash of thyme, some paprika and some coarse salt added to the pot and the stirring continued. A subtle aroma was spreading across the room and Ishaan felt an odd sense of peace grab his senses in a hold and wrapped them in a warm quilt. The rain had accentuated the atmosphere so much more.
Ishaan wished he could pack in all the sensations and keep them safe; to be used as and when required.
"What is that? Water?" Ishaan asked as Shubman added some liquid into the pot.
"Vegetable Stock. It would taste a little better with Chicken Stock but this is also not bad."
"Oh."
The stirring continued for around 10 more minutes before Shubman lowered the burner flame and covered the pot, letting it simmer for a while.
"Want to chop some bread with me, Ishu?"
"Bread?"
"Yes. We make croutons."
Ishaan's eyes brightened and he held out his hand for a serrated knife. With infinite care and under Shubman's watchful eyes the rustic bread was diced. It was nowhere near perfect but that did not matter; not really.
Shubman placed another pan on the second burner and added some more olive oil to it. The bread pieces went in soon after.
"You mean croutons are nothing but fried bread pieces?"
Shubman smiled at Ishaan's question. "Essentially," he nodded. "What did you think?"
Ishaan scratched at the back of his head. "I thought that you had to bake them or something. Or it was like really crispy toast."
"Really crispy toast?" Shubman raised an eyebrow and grinned widely. "Really, Ishaan?"
"Oh don't tease." Ishaan reached out and smacked the back of Shubman's head.
"Alright, my dear. I will refrain." Shubman grabbed hold of the hand which had assaulted him and playfully bit at one of the fingers; Ishaan pulled back his hand, grimaced and wiped the appendage on his t-shirt.
"Gross, Shubhi."
With another laugh Shubman turned his attention back to his cooking and checked on the potatoes. A couple of minutes and he poured the mixture into the blender kept nearby, blended it until smooth and poured the mixture back into the pot. In a while, the mixture started bubbling.
"What now?"
Ishaan had been following the process with interest and dragged a finger over the side of the spatula. He licked at the creamy soup and smacked his lips.
"Hey. This is pretty good."
"Thanks." Shubman chuckled and washed up some broad leafed thyme. Chopping them into tiny pieces, he added a whole lot of it into the bubbling soup and asked,
"Can you grab the cream for me, Ishaan? From the fridge. Just make sure that it is the vegan one."
"Sure." It took a while but Ishaan finally found the pack of vegan cream and handed it over. "For thickening up the soup?" He hazarded a guess.
"You are learning."
The final flourish and Shubman added in the cream, and topped the soup up with croutons. Lots of them.
"Garlic soup, Virat Bhaiya? Rohit Bhai?" He called out and an affirmative reply was received.
"Come on Ishu. Let us put up the goodies."
The thunder rolled in and amidst the backdrop of lightning and cool breeze carrying the tinge of petrichor, the warm creamy soup was dished out in bowls.
"Looks good, Shubhi."
"Thanks to you, Ishaan." Which, though an overstatement, was not too far away from the truth.
A smile was exchanged, liberally spiced with warmth and friendship.
"They are doing good?" A relaxed Rohit Sharma asked as he lounged on the recliner placed directly opposite the wall high glass windows.
"Ishaan and Shubman?" Virat asked. He had been humming along with the Arijit Singh song and now looked over at the little kitchenette. "I think so. Shubman will take care of Ishaan."
"Yeah. Our Seeta and Geeta huh?" Rohit quirked his lips and raised his eyebrows at his friend; his best friend.
"Or our Jai and Viru. Whatever sails their boat."
"Yeah."
Rain, good food and friendship; there can be little better. Ishaan and Shubman, Virat and Rohit; two different generations, bonded by the same feelings.
And the day went on.
A/N - Will look forward to your comments.
Take care all of you.