All's Well That Ends in ....
We knew that strange things will happen, when we went past the Gateway of India. This was Delhi, after all.
It was a late cool night in Delhi February. Not cool enough for us, though. We were the Reservoir Dogs. We went in.
Into the cabin, where our friend was staying. Since we were meeting after long, we exchanged a few pleasantries. We have to. My attempts at humour raised a few eyebrows though. Vodka always does. Especially, if it's a really old joke.
Having taken a few shots inside the cabin, we went out. No smoking, the sign said. How appropriate. If left to us, there will be no smoking. Music we can do with, though. Even after 11 pm.
That's when the noise hit us. We went out to investigate. Everything was as expected. Except for the briefcase. It was black and it was being welcomed in by the family. Making mental notes (and telling Mr. Big) about the briefcase, we moved in again.
That's when we met up with the clown. It was a disguise, of course. It was completely out of place amongst the family. Blonde wanted to kick it down. We took a shot instead.
"How many mushrooms can I take?" said Mr. Blonde.
"I have already taken twenty-three", said Mr. Big.
"I am sticking to the paneer"
That was me. I couldn't believe I said that. It's been a while since I have eaten paneer. I had no choice in the current place, No meat here. No quarter-pounder with cheese. No Big Mac. No problem. We had a job to do.
We went out into a wedding next door. Thousands of sardars were milling around the bar and the barbeque. Big was apprehensive. What if we get caught? But we had seen prey, sorry meat.
We went for the seekh kabab. All's well that ends in meat.