Neha Singh stood on the bustling Mumbai rooftop, the city’s glittering tapestry spread before her. A wind tousled her vibrant sari, her eyes reflecting the neon symphony below. At 25, she wasn’t your typical girl—a tech whiz who traded algorithms for ancient spices, a coder-turned-chef.Her journey began in cramped Delhi apartments, code woven into her nights like spices into her mother’s curries. But the yearning for tradition, for the stories buried in each cardamom seed, pulled her to Jaipur. She apprenticed under forgotten chefs, their wrinkled hands guiding hers as she coaxed flavors from forgotten recipes.Now, her rooftop cafe hummed with laughter, a haven for weary souls seeking solace in spice-infused stories. Tourists marveled at her saffron-stained fingers flying over keyboards, crafting menus that were poems to forgotten palates.Neha, the coder-turned-chef, wasn’t just serving food; she was serving history, one fragrant bite at a time. The city lights sparkled, mirrored in her eyes, ablaze with the fire of spices and the glow of a dream ignited.
