Fresh from a stinking movie hall that just finished screening a Telugu movie with two gorgeous heroines, my stomach which took revenge in the morning by digesting a pain killer in slow motion asked for a big thali. I walked into a nearby restaurant, and the moment I saw "Mini Punjabi Thali", my stomach didn't think twice.
I ordered for my thali and smugly waited to receive the plate. Since it was self-service, I saw my plate in the assembly line. A black guy with a red thread on his hand was holding a white plate and putting orange biryani with brown bare hands. Thankfully, someone took that plate. The next in line was mine. I saw a south Indian meal plate made from galvanized steel being filled with Punjabi food. I received the plate with all the contents duly covered by a tandoori roti and a rolled papad.
I took my plate to a table opposite to a gal with a book, under the pretext of sitting near the fan. She seemed ok in this crowd of martians and jupiter-ians.....had to invent this word as neither Roland Emmerich nor Steven Speilberg and not even James Cameron had made movies with people from Jupiter.
Ok. Back to my plate. I uncovered my plate and said Hi to my tomato soup in a katori. The bread crumbs were like dead bodies that drowned in tomato soup few hours back. Then, I saw the curry and the dal. Both were rightly in their respective katoris. My roti seemed hotter than the gal opposite me and my stomach couldn't wait to lay its juices on it.
And then, what I noticed was shocking. A punjabi would have died on the spot with multiple organ failure. Of course, the brain is exempted! I noticed the lassi.
LASSI IN A KATORI ?????????? Punjabis take no less than 2-3 'pints' of lassi with a meal and here I was, staring at a katori-full of it.
God....if I can make my death-wish in advance now, please get me out of this lassi and gals forsaken land.