Food Phrases

Surfeiting Food
I decided to be different this time. Am sharing my incomplete tale based on food phrases in both Hindi and English. I would like you to write out an ending...
“When are you bringing home the bacon?” Arati’s voice arose over the din of Delhi traffic. The honking of the tempo announcing the fact that fat Cheenu the landlord’s son was waddling his way to school. Rohan rolled over and headed straight for the breakfast laid out temptingly on the table. Gobi-ka-parantha, mango pickles, aloo-ki-subzi accompanied with a glass of piping hot coffee.
“Ah! Eat breakfast like a King, lunch like a prince and dinner like a pauper,”Rohan exclaimed as he delved into the tempting array.
“ Well, soon all your meals will be that of a pauper.” Arati broke into his reverie. “Umm?”
“We have not paid the grocery bills for the last six months. Madanji has refused to pay attention to my smiles and promises of I-will-just-pay as soon as the project finishes.”
“Yes this never ending building project has now become a pain in the neck. There are no buyers. I have bitten off more than I can chew.”

Madanji smiled in a very offensive all-knowing familiar way and said, “Daal-mein-kuchh-kaala-hai, sisterji. Are you sure that your husband has not lost his job? With all these Leehman-Sheeman banks collapsing…” 
Aarti hurriedly picked up her groceries and almost collided into the tall solid bulk of Cheenu’s mother.
She appeared concerned or was it an act when she patted Arati on the shoulder and whispered loudly for all to hear, “ Why don’t you go back to your father’s house? You have mentioned that he has a thriving export business in pickles and packed ready-to-eat foods. Who hasn’t heard of Ratanji’s achar?”
The other customers all looked up and even Madanji appeared impressed. Arti squirmed at all the attention she was receiving.
She mumbled, “ Aunty you know, my father doesn’t like Rohan. Besides I said equally mean things to him before I left home.”
Cheenu’s mother grew taller more bulkier (if that was possible) as she commented, “ Go back and beg his forgiveness. You should know which your bread is buttered.”
She gave Arti a gentle shove.
“Aunty I wish I could eat my cake and have it too.”
Arti received a sly wink and a pointed glance at her protruding tummy, as Aunty smiled and said, “That should be the icing on the cake.”

Arti walked out with as much confidence as possible she was a in a mood to confide.
“Aunty what can I do? I have a bua who loves to create problems. She is an expert. Aag mein ghee dalti hain. She is the one who called me a Namak-haram in front of my family.”
Cheenu’s mother became all protective and assumed a look of an army strategeist.
“Kya khichri paka rahi ho?” Arti asked after a total silence of five minutes.
“Namak-haram se namak halal ho jayega.” There was a victorious gleam in her owlish eyes as she whispered in Arti’s ears.* * *