Desi Bon Apetit

Fact is stranger than fiction, and I honestly believe if someone were to make a T.V series based on my life it'd be one weird, unintentionally hilarious sitcom.

Sample this- a simple dinner date with a friend at a popular restaurant in Gurgaon's Cyber Hub area...

Friend, with a serious look totally not suitable to encourage further questions-"You will have to place the order"
Me,totally ignoring aforementioned look-"Why??"
"You just have to!!" 
"Why?"
"Because...the waiters here speak English and you know how I am before you"

Said friend seemed to suffer from a strange affliction that rendered his brain-tongue synchronization useless when speaking in English in front of me.
Please don't ask me to elaborate.

I took the menu.

The waiter came bustling to our table.
"So..we'll have this butterfly chicken...on it's own and...which one did you say you wanted dear...?" I slyly smiled at my friend.
"The.. Err...grilled tender chicken..with err rice..spicy rice side..?" he fumbled glaring at me.

We completed the order somehow and it was repeated to us in an accented English & a speed that made me wonder if the waiter really wanted to visit the loo,or had just transferred from a South Indian restaurant. I hoped for the latter.

"So...nice place" I muttered staring at the mass of Gurgaon's well-to-do folks. I call them well-to-do because they don't mind shelling out 300 bucks for a 'refreshingly crisp Caesar salad' that anyone in their right mind can see is nothing but ghaas-phoos tossed around in olive oil & lemon juice. 

"Is she drinking wine?" my friend was staring at a buxom female at the adjoining table who was holding a glass in one hand & cajoling her 8 year old son to gobble the Caesar salad with her other hand. Traces of "C'mon baby, who's my good boy?" could be heard over the din.

"That's a Sangria." 

"Hmm...hmpph" and he went back to staring.

"So this place requires you to use your fork & knife you know" I smiled remembering him drinking his soup, his lips kissing the bowl, the last time we had dined together. 

"So?" he smirked. "I have better table etiquette than you do".

"Oh yeah? How do you hold your fork??" 

The food had arrived by that time. We both stared at the minuscule quantity.

"This ..is like appetizer..?" I was crestfallen. 

"Anyhow...." he had lifted the fork & knife off the table, "let me show you how you use these"

After 20 seconds of struggling with the equipment, he finally met my eyes, "Something's wrong..."

"That maybe the case because you're holding the knife in your left hand & the fork in your right..?" 

"You...you make me nervous"

"Yes, I'm like the Medusa.."

He gulped down his Coke. "Why is this called a bottomless drink?" was my next question. 

"Ha.. you don't know? See this glass? This is a bottomless glass. You can't see it's bottom." he answered knowledgeably.

I stared at him, "I thought it was because the drinks would be refilled each time & hence it'd be bottomless". "You know nothing"

As if on cue, the waiter arrived-"Sir would you like a refill? This is a bottomless drink".

I'm taking him to the dhabba near Convergys next time.