People ask me why I cook. The honest answer is simple: I like watching people eat.

It's not about the compliments. It's not about being told I'm talented or that I have "magical hands." Those things make me embarrassed, honestly. It's about that moment when someone takes a bite and their face changes. That's what I cook for.
 

Hi, I'm Rabi

At home, I cook alone. I don't like people helping me. There's something about doing it by myself that feels right. My mom asks me to make something. My girlfriend encourages me. During festivals, my home turns into my kitchen, Ravb's Kitchen. I make biryani a lot. Not because I want to eat it. Because I love feeding people and watching them enjoy it.

Here's the thing — people know instantly if I made something. My mom knows. My girlfriend knows. There's something recognizable about it. Maybe it's because I'm thinking about the person eating while I'm cooking. I'm imagining their faces. I'm thinking about what they want.

At T's, when a plate comes back, it doesn't frustrate me anymore. It used to. My hands would shake. But now I understand — it tells me something. The customer didn't like it. So I made something else. I feed them again. I watched their faces for the second time. That's the goal. To see them satisfied.

My girlfriend and I fight over food. We're always talking about it, planning what to eat next. She encourages me to cook. She likes my cooking. That matters because I know I'm doing what I love for someone I care about.

I'm always thinking about food. Always thinking about what someone might want to eat. Even when I'm cooking at work, I don't eat. I'm not hungry for food. I'm hungry for that moment of seeing someone enjoy what I've made.

When I made biryani at home, I made batch after batch. Not for myself. Because the feeling of feeding people, of watching them enjoy it, of knowing I made something they loved — that never gets old. I could make it forever just to see that satisfaction on their faces.

Sometimes I doubt if people are being truthful about my cooking skills. But then I see their faces when they eat. And I know. That's the real truth. Not the words. The reaction. The satisfaction. The way they come back for more.

I want to be remembered as someone who cares about feeding others more than being fed. Someone who cooks because they genuinely want to see people happy. That's not a skill you learn. That's something you either have or you don't.

I have it.

I cook because I like watching people eat. Everything else is just details.