The Matchmaker's Mistake

In the vibrant chaos of Hyderabad, 2025, Anjali ran Pelli Gola, a matchmaking service that blended algorithms with old-school intuition. Known for her knack for spotting soulmates, Anjali was the “go-to” for modern Telugu people, who are seeking love. Her latest challenge: pairing Arjun, a tech entrepreneur, a blunt speaker, and Kavya Menon, a sharp-tongued architect who valued independence over romance. Their profiles screamed compatibility—shared ambition, love for spicy biryani, and a stubborn streak a mile wide. But when Anjali arranged their first meeting at a trendy Hi-Tech City café, sparks flew… and not the good kind.

“You must be the guy who thinks ‘charming’ means arguing with waiters,” Kavya quipped, eyeing Arjun’s loud sneakers and louder attitude. He smirked, “And you’re the woman who probably designed this café’s ugly chairs.” The date ended in record time—15 minutes—with Kavya storming out and Arjun texting Anjali: “Worst match ever. Fire your algorithm.”

Undeterred, Anjali, ever the optimist, saw potential in their fiery clash. “Hate is just love in disguise,” she told her assistant, plotting a series of “accidental” encounters. She invited them to a charity gala, claiming it was a networking event. Arjun, hoping to pitch his startup, arrived in a tailored blazer. Kavya, there to showcase her eco-friendly designs, wore a saree that turned heads. When they spotted each other, groans echoed. “You again?” Kavya snapped. Arjun grinned, “Fate’s got a sick sense of humour.”

Anjali’s nudges continued—group outings, a cooking class where they bickered over biryani spices, even ra stuck elevator at a client’s office ( Recreating Pokiri movie- lift scene). Slowly, their barbs softened. During a late-night work session at a Golconda Fort restoration project, Kavya noticed Arjun’s passion for mentoring young coders. He, in turn, admired her sketches, calling them “stubbornly beautiful, like you.” By the time they shared a quiet moment under the fort’s ancient arches, laughing over burnt dosas from a street vendor, Anjali was smug. Her plan was working.

But love, like Hyderabad traffic, is unpredictable. At a Pelli Gola success party, a tipsy guest let slip that Anjali had orchestrated every “chance” meeting. Kavya’s face fell. “You manipulated us?” she demanded, confronting Anjali. Arjun, usually quick with a retort, looked betrayed. “Was any of this real?” he asked Kavya, who stormed out, leaving him staring at his untouched drink.

Heartache hit hard. Kavya ignored Arjun’s calls, her pride wounded. Arjun, nursing a bruised ego, deleted Anjali’s app. Anjali, riddled with guilt, decided to fix her mistake the old-fashioned way. She sent them both handwritten letters, admitting her meddling but urging them to talk. “You two fought like enemies but loved like allies. Don’t let my mistake steal that.”

Kavya, reading the letter in her studio, remembered Arjun’s lopsided grin when he’d teased her about her over-spiced chutney. Arjun, in his sleek office, recalled Kavya’s laugh under the fort’s starlit sky. Both stubborn, both scared, they agreed to meet—one last time—at Charminar’s bustling night market.

“You didn’t have to come,” Kavya said, her voice wary but soft. Arjun shrugged, his usual swagger tempered. “I wanted to. Not because of Anjali, but because I can’t stop thinking about you.” Silence hung heavy, broken only by a vendor’s call. Kavya sighed, “I trusted you, Arjun. Then I found out it was all a setup.” He stepped closer, earnest. “Maybe it started that way, but every laugh, every fight—that was us. Real as this city.”

She looked into his eyes, seeing the man who’d gone from nemesis to necessity. “You’re still annoying,” she said, a smile tugging at her lips. He grinned, “And you’re still impossible. Dinner?” As they walked through the market, sharing a plate of haleem, Anjali watched from afar, her heart light. Her mistake had sparked a love that didn’t need her meddling to burn bright.