Away from Chefchaouen’s hustle-bustle, Nora found solace in the tranquil haven of Ras-El-Ma. Sun had dipped below horizon, casting a soft golden gleam over lush emerald landscape. Realizing the time for returning had long passed, Nora gently lifted her weary self from smooth stones, where she was resting for past 4-hours. With a wistful farewell, to the soothing murmur, of the aesthetic Ras-El-Ma waterfall, she began walking, each step echoing the calm she was reluctantly leaving behind.

Her home, reminiscent to almost all houses in Morocco’s famed “Blue City,” Chefchaouen, with its yellow walls and blue wooden doors and windows, was Amma’s (mother) wedding gift from Jidi, (maternal-grandfather). After Jidi's passing, his blue scooter, Amma’s only memento and childhood symbol of happiness and stability, was usually parked outside.

As she thought of home, memories of better times before Fatima's birth, flooded back. Every evening, how excitedly she would rush to her father, “Baba is here, baba is here!” He would lift her with a comforting hug, telling Amma, “Mariyam, all my exhaustion melts away the moment I see Nora’s face.”

Post Fatima’s birth, Nora longed to see a genuine smile on Baba's appearance. His love for them had vanished with each new addition to the family. The five daughters Nora, Sara, Fatima, Khadija, and Amina, were like five piercing needles in Baba’s torso, making him feel not only betrayed, longing for a son, but also a shamed object, always being mocked by society. “You betrayed me, Mariyam. You broke the wedding vows by giving me five daughters and no son.” After Amina’s birth, doctors warned of Amma’s delicate health and inability to bear another child. Baba retreated to his ancestral home, sending little money every month, a social obligation.

Nora was shocked to find Baba’s car outside as she arrived home. She hid behind Jidi’s blue scooter, overhearing Amma’s desperate plea, “Don’t you have any mercy, Youssef? Nora is only seventeen. I might agree to your second marriage, but not at the cost of our daughter.” Baba had threatened to cut off financial support if Nora didn’t marry the 50-year-old pervert, Mr. Hassan, whose 19-year-old niece was to be Baba’s new bride. Baba sped away, leaving Amma in tears and the girls in poverty. “Swear to me, Nora must not know. Promise me, each one of you,” Amma urged her daughters, who nodded and wiped away her tears.

Determined to stop her father’s manipulation, Nora devised a bold plan. Next day, she shared her idea with Amma and sisters. Mariyam showed her a hidden compartment beneath the scooter’s under-seat-storage, retrieving a pouch of jewellery, she’d secretly kept. With Amma’s blessing, Nora drove the scooter to Mehdi, the town’s brilliant mechanic-cum-engineer and her childhood friend.

Handing over the pouch, Nora recounted the previous night’s event and said resolutely, “Mehdi, I need your help. Turn Jidi’s blue scooter into a food-truck, no, a food-scooter, or mobile kitchen! Are you understanding?”

Mehdi’s eyes lit up. “A ‘Food-Scoot’? Brilliant! Let’s create the extraordinary.”

In Mehdi’s makeshift garage, they worked tirelessly, converting Jidi’s blue scooter into a high-tech food-unit with a compact stove-oven, mini refrigerator, and state-of-the-art equipment like tiny food processor and automated order system. Garage clanked with sound of tools and creativity as they turned Nora’s vision into reality.

As they laboured, Amma and the sisters supported with preparation and cooking of Moroccan delicacies, from Mariyam’s secret recipes. Every evening, Nora disguised herself as a boy, Noor Ahmed, and sold the treats at city-market.

One day, learning about a renowned international culinary competition in Casablanca, she decided to participate.

With Amma’s support, Nora and Mehdi drove to Casablanca. The competition was fierce, with global chefs showcasing their skills. Yet, Nora’s unique “Food-Scoot” quickly became the event’s highlight. Nora served fragrant Tagines, crispy Pastillas, and sweet Chebakia, and her confident calls of, “Try the Pastilla! prepared with love, with tradition,” drew a lively crowd.

Among them was Omar Alli, a food-critic and celebrity Arabic chef. After tasting her Tagine, he exclaimed, “Mashallah! This is exceptional! How did you cook this delicacy?” Nora, maintaining her disguise as Noor, replied, “It’s a family secret, sir.”

As the competition climaxed, Nora’s “Food-Scooter” was a sensation. The grand reveal was met with applause when Noor removed his disguise, revealing Nora. The overlooked daughter of a heartless father had become Morocco’s culinary icon. Jidi’s blue scooter, once a symbol of family legacy, had now become a beacon of innovation and hope.