Bitter-sweet

Yawn! It's just about to turn 11 p.m. as i try to find my phone to order dinner. I can't stop yawning and my stomach is warning me to eat or it's going to do the Houdini on me. I frantically try to find my phone because if i delay a second more, the restaurant is not going to deliver my last meal which means I'll have to sleep on an empty stomach which makes me cranky in the morning and i tend to push my lungs to the limit with the sticks. Which is not a good thing by the way since I'm trying to quit. That's another story..

So anyways, i finally find my phone and dial in the number for the place that has been serving me amazing food for the past 2 weeks and i absolutely love them. I don't even have to tell them where I'm calling from. They know this guy called Eshan who lives at door number 28 is going to call them almost everyday and order the same bloody thing. The Chicken Tikka is really that good, trust me. So, i dial the number and wait for it to connect but, to my surprise a lady over the phone informs me that the number is switched off. I disconnect it, and dial again, and again, and again just to see if she would say something different. For a second i was smirking and wondering if she ever got tired but then my stomach growled and said "Quit fucking around, will you? I'm dying here."

I looked at the clock to see the hands showing me a sharp 11. I was suddenly freaking out, i needed food. My stomach was now screaming and begging me to do something and something quick. So, i did the most sensible thing i could think of at the moment. I lit a cigarette...and quickly decided to run to the restaurant which is just a few meters away. Yes! I still order on the phone instead of going there.

By this time my stomach started to ache and i mean really fucking bad and as i saw the signboard saying in bright red "Indian In A Box" suddenly switch off, i could imagine my stomach burst into tears.I ran up to the entrance and asked if there was anything to eat and all i got was a hand waving to me. I was sad, i was dreading going back home and tossing and turning in bed with my stomach grumbling. I threw my smoke down and started dragging myself back home when i suddenly saw a small cafe right next to the restaurant which looked like it was closing as well. Still, i wanted to give it a try. I walked up to the cafe and asked them if they had something to eat and i sounded really desperate. They told me that they just closed and they were about to leave but that didn't stop me from begging them for something, anything even if it was something green. There were 3 guys and by the look of it 2 were cooks and one of them was i think the owner. Finally they looked at each other and decided to open up the counter again, and give me some food. FUCK! God bless these kind souls i thought. They were actually nice enough to offer me a chair to sit while they prepared my chicken pasta, a katti roll, some bread and a cold coffee. The owner looked at me and somehow he knew i was relieved and to celebrate he asked if i smoked. Hell yeah i smoke i said like he had just read my mind.

I took the smoke and sat down thinking why i have never noticed this place before. It's not like it's new, it's been around for ages, i could tell with the carvings on the wall which said "Ronnie was here" and some other lame shit. While i was lost in thought about the place, one of them came up to me with my dinner on a tray but i just wanted to go home and have dinner and let these guys call it a day. After all,they are very kind people. So i took the bag, paid an extra 20 bucks for the sweet favor, said thanks like a million times, wished them goodnight and started walking back home with a smile on my face and the warmth of hot pasta on my hands.

I have to tell my friends about this i thought but suddenly realized that i didn't recall seeing a name of the cafe. I turned back and started looking for the sign which was barely visible. I walked back a few steps and saw a small piece of paper on the wall next to the cafe which read : Pasta, Katti Rolls and Cold Coffee and just below in a smaller bold font it read CAFE KHATTA(which means sour for those who don't know Hindi). I smiled again and walked back home thinking how the small Cafe Khatta had done the sweetest thing by just extending their work hours just to give one person a hearty meal.

My stomach is now fast asleep and won't bother me for another few hours, hopefully. Now, i think i'll have pasta and rolls for dinner everyday. Cold coffee sucked though. *chomp* *chomp*