Food Stories Blogger (short stories)
Mumbai had two things in excess—traffic and food bloggers. Sahil was one of them. Unfortunately, he was also broke. His blog, Sahil Food Bites, was a funny take on Mumbai’s street food. He had exactly 2,354 followers, a number he checked every day, hoping to get free food. Until then, he survived on PR invites and whatever his best friend Sameer left on his plate.
Last week, Sahil found something amazing—Gupta Ji Chaat Corner. It had the best chaat in the city. The stall was run by Gupta Ji, an old man with a secret recipe and a permanent frown. Sahil’s review went viral.
But when he returned a few days later, the stall was gone. All he found was an overturned pani puri container and a note on the counter:
“Find me if you can.”
No phone number. No explanation. Just those words.
Sameer, munching on a vada pav, raised an eyebrow. “Bro, why are you so shocked? Maybe he retired. Old people do that.”
“No way. Last week, he yelled at a kid for asking for ‘less spicy’ pani puri. He was alive and angry. This doesn’t make sense.”
“Maybe he ran away with a secret ingredient?” Sameer joked.
Sahil narrowed his eyes. “Or maybe… it was a chaat robbery.”
Sameer sighed. “You watch too much crime fiction.”
Sahil was about to drop the matter when he got a message that night.
Anonymous: “Stay out of the chaat business. Not everything is meant to be found.”
Now, it was personal.
The Hunt for Gupta Ji
Sahil’s first stop was his rival, Tanya from Taste. She had more followers and had reviewed many chaat stalls. He messaged her:
Sahil: “Yo, did you hear about Gupta Ji?”
Tanya: “Yeah, sad. But honestly, his chaat was overrated.”
Sahil: “Blocked.”
She was no help.
Next, he went to Kumar’s Pani Puri, the biggest competitor to Gupta Ji. Kumar was oddly rich for someone selling 20-rupee pani puri. His stall had fairy lights, marble counters, and even a ‘Selfie Point’ with the tagline: Ek Selfie, Ek Free Puri!
Sahil leaned on the counter. “Kumar Ji, your business is doing well?”
Kumar grinned. “Of course! After all, the competition is gone.”
Sahil frowned. “What do you mean?”
Kumar smirked. “Just know this, beta. Not everything in the chaat business is honest.”
Before Sahil could reply, someone ordered, “One plate bhel.”
He turned and froze.
A girl stood there, scrolling on her phone. She wore black jeans, an oversized kurta, and had sharp eyes that missed nothing.
“You’re Gupta Ji’s daughter, right?” Sahil blurted out.
She looked at him suspiciously. “And you are?”
“Sahil. Food blogger.”
She sighed. “Oh. You’re the one with the clickbait titles, right? ‘One Bite = Instant Diabetes!’ ‘The Bhel That Changed My Life!’”
Sahil grinned. “People call me the content king.”
She did not look impressed. “I’m Aditi. And yes, Gupta Ji is my dad.”
Sahil almost fell off his stool. “Guys! We found her!”
Sameer smacked his forehead. “Bhai, learn to be subtle.”
Aditi rolled her eyes. “Relax. I was looking for you.”
Sahil blinked. “Me?”
She nodded. “You’re the only one asking so many questions after Dad’s stall closed.”
Sahil leaned forward. “Tell me the truth. What happened?”
Aditi hesitated, then whispered, “Someone stole our family recipe.”
Sahil gasped. “You mean—”
“Yes,” she nodded. “Dad’s secret chaat masala. It was his life.”
“Wait,” Sameer interrupted. “Then why did he shut the stall?”
Aditi sighed. “Dad refused to make chaat without his special spice. He said, ‘If it’s not the real thing, it’s nothing.’”
Sahil was quiet for a moment. Then he looked at Aditi and said, “We’re getting that recipe back.”
The Final Showdown
The next night, Kumar hosted a Pani Puri Festival. His new “special masala” was the talk of the town. Sahil and Aditi sneaked in, grabbed a sample, and took it straight to Gupta Ji.
The old man sniffed the masala, then tasted a pinch. His eyes widened. “This is my recipe!”
“You mean Kumar stole it?” Aditi clenched her fists.
Gupta Ji stood up, grabbed a giant spoon, and said, “Beta, it’s time to take back our chaat.”
That night, Gupta Ji made a surprise comeback—right in front of Kumar’s stall. Word spread fast. People gathered. The first customer took a bite… and gasped.
“This is the real taste! This is the real masala!”
Kumar panicked as people left his stall. “This is cheating!” he shouted.
Gupta Ji smirked. “Beta, real chaat masala is made with love and hard work. Not by stealing.”
The crowd cheered. Kumar packed up in shame.
Sahil, watching from the side, smirked. “Perfect climax.”
Aditi nudged him. “You really helped.”
Sahil shrugged. “Just for content.”
She raised an eyebrow. “No other reason?”
Sahil coughed. “Maybe… one more reason.”
Aditi smiled. “Hmm. Want to share a plate of bhel?”
Sahil grinned. “One condition.”
“What?”
“I get a selfie for the thumbnail.”
Message for this story : -True success comes from honesty and passion—real flavor, like real life, cannot be stolen; it is made with love.