Seekh Kebab

On a moody Saturday in Dwarka, as a suspiciously smoky sunset filtered through the blinds of their upper-floor apartment, Rhea and Adi—two newly-minted techies with dreams bigger than their spice cabinet—were on a mission: Seekh Kebabs, Sanjeev Kapoor-style.

Rhea had spotted the recipe on a rerun of Khana Khazana earlier in the week and announced it dramatically, “This weekend, we make culinary history... or we set off the smoke alarm again.”

Armed with a packet of Sanjeev Kapoor’s official spice mix (which Adi had hunted down like a relic), they cleaned their sleek black granite countertops and lined up ingredients with military precision. The plan? Follow the OG chef’s recipe to the T.

“I will personally time the marinade. Chef says exactly 3 hours,” Adi declared, clutching a digital stopwatch like it was a time bomb.

Rhea, meanwhile, scrolled through the half-blurred printout. “It says grind something and add it to the mix… cashews? Oh wait, onions. Yeah, onions make more sense,” she muttered confidently.

One onion-grinding session later, the marinade looked… watery. The mutton chunks floated in it like astronauts lost in space. Adi stared at the bowl in horror. “Chef Kapoor would disown us.”

“No no, this is fine! We just… give it a modern touch. Fusion. Like Kapoor 2.0,” Rhea said, already reaching for the tomato puree and cream.

They salvaged the situation with blind optimism, a stick blender, and an unnecessary splash of lime. The kebabs went onto the grill pan, sizzling with a vengeance. The smell was glorious—smoky, spicy, confusingly complex.

Finally, golden and slightly charred, they plated the kebabs, clicked a triumphant photo with their 3.2 MP Canon Powershot, and titled the email to their families: “Khazana Found. Not Lost.”

Their siblings replied with suspicious enthusiasm and one reply simply said:

"Looks like kebabs. Also looks like you're hiding a curry under there. Proud of you either way."

And in that cozy kitchen in Dwarka, as the city hummed outside and the spice hung in the air, Rhea and Adi bit into their slightly-off-yet-weirdly-amazing Seekh Kebabs.

“We’ll call this one… Kapoor Ki Kasam,” Rhea whispered.

Adi nodded. “But next time, you’re reading the recipe with your glasses on.”