A Night at the Dhaba
The sun had set, painting the sky in hues of orange and deep purple. The faint smell of petrol and grease still clung to Sukhman's hands as he locked up the garage and swung his backpack over his shoulder. The streets of Phagwara, where he worked, were slowly coming to life with the evening crowd. He pulled out his phone and checked his messages.
Diljit: "Oye, don't be late! My birthday treat at Ajit Dhaba, 8 PM sharp!"
Sukhman smirked, quickening his pace. He turned the corner and soon found himself at the small but ever-bustling dhaba, where the smell of buttered rotis and sizzling tandoori chicken filled the air. The place was packed with truck drivers, college students, and families, all chatting over steaming cups of tea and plates of food.
Near the back, a group of his closest friends were already seated at a long wooden table, laughing loudly.
"Look who finally decided to show up!" called out Harinder, a burly guy with a permanent smirk.
"Bapu, where were you? Fixing cars or dreaming about racing again?" Gurpreet, the youngest of the group, teased.
"Both," Sukhman chuckled as he slid into an empty chair.
At the head of the table, Diljit, the birthday boy, grinned. "Oye, order whatever you want, boys. It's on me tonight!"
The group cheered, clapping Diljit on the back.
Plates of dal makhani, butter roti, aloo paratha, and a large bowl of kheer for dessert were soon laid out. As they ate, the usual banter flowed.
"Diljit, 23 years old and still single? What's the plan?" Harinder smirked.
Diljit sighed dramatically. "The plan is simple. First, I get rich. Then, the girls will follow."
They all burst into laughter.
Between jokes, Sukhman sat back, watching his friends, feeling a rare sense of peace. Life was tough, but moments like these made it bearable.
As the night wore on, the group reminisced about childhood mischief, their first experiences riding bikes, and their dreams of making it big.
"Mark my words," Sukhman said, tapping the table, "One day, I'll race in the big leagues."
They didn't laugh this time.
They knew he meant it.
Sukhman breaks the silence, "Oh come on. I was just joking. I know it's very farfetched. So you can laugh at me. No problem."
"But paaji this means a lot to you. This dream...." Diljit says.
"It only happens in novels, Diljit. In real life we normal people never gets the chance to go in front." Sukhman says.
Returning Home
By the time Sukhman walked home, the streets were quieter, the distant hum of night traffic filling the air. His house—a modest two-room home with a tin roof—stood at the end of a narrow lane. The lights were still on, and as soon as he opened the door, he was greeted by a familiar voice.
"Oye Veerji!" (Here Veerji means dear brother)
His younger sister, Manpreet, ran up to him, beaming. She had arrived earlier that day from her college hostel, and though they video-called often, nothing beat meeting in person.
His mother, Baljeet Kaur, peeked out from the small kitchen, her face lighting up. "Sukhman, you're late again. Come, dinner is ready."
His father, Harjeet, was seated on the cot in the main room, reading an old newspaper. He gave Sukhman a tired but approving nod.
Sukhman smiled. "Let me wash up first."
A few minutes later, the family gathered around the small wooden table. Despite their struggles, there was warmth in these moments, something Sukhman cherished more than anything.
The food was simple but made with love— normal roti with homemade butter, saag, and a bowl of plain curd. There was also a plate of onion and green chili pickles on the side.
"Manpreet, how's college?" their mother asked.
Manpreet brightened up, launching into an excited explanation about her latest projects. "We had a seminar on Harappan civilization last week! Did you know they had underground drainage systems thousands of years ago?"
Sukhman grinned. "That's useful information. Maybe I can install a Harappan-style system in our house."
His father chuckled, while Manpreet rolled her eyes.
The dinner ended with soft laughter and a quiet sense of contentment.
A Brother and Sister's Bond
After dinner, as their parents went to sleep, Sukhman and Manpreet sat outside on the small veranda, enjoying the night breeze.
"So," Sukhman said, leaning back on his hands, "how's hostel life treating you?"
Manpreet sighed. "It's... different. Some days are great. Some days, I miss home."
She hesitated before continuing, "Not everyone is kind, Veerji. Some girls look down on me because we aren't rich. I hear them whispering."
Sukhman's hands clenched. "Anyone gives you trouble, tell me their names. I'll come down there myself."
Manpreet laughed. "And do what? Challenge them to a street race?"
He smirked. "Worked before."
She shook her head, smiling. "It's okay. I don't let it bother me. I love my studies too much. Did you know the oldest recorded fossil is 3.5 billion years old?"
She started explaining fossil formation, sedimentary layers, and ancient species, her hands moving as she spoke.
Sukhman didn't understand half of it.
But he didn't interrupt.
He just listened.
Because he loved seeing her eyes light up with passion.
---
At night after everyone went to sleep
As the house fell into peaceful silence, Sukhman drifted into a deep sleep. The cool night air and the distant sound of crickets lulled him into dreams of racing on grand tracks, engines roaring beneath him.
Then his phone rang.
He groggily reached for it, squinting at the screen.
Harinder Calling…
He answered, his voice heavy with sleep. "Kya hua?" ("What happened?")
"Wake up, Singh. Big race happening tonight. NH 44. Betting's crazy."
Sukhman's mind snapped awake. "Who's racing?"
"Some pros, some street guys. Good money if you win."
Sukhman rubbed his face, the thrill already kicking in.
"I'm in."
Harinder grinned on the other end. "Good. Meet me at the old truck stop. 10:30 PM."
Sukhman hung up, staring at the ceiling.
Racing is risky.
But the money…
It could mean a better life for his family.
And so, with his heart pounding, he got up, ready to chase the night once again.