historical documents 3- garlic at dinner

the third in the series... this was when murali had come ovr to hobnobb with us lesser humans...
here begins the sad tale of yesterday's dinner. starts out some time late
in the afternoon when a bunch of disaffected nmrists are sitting sround
and cribbing about not having statphys bags. not that it occurred to any
one of us to enlist as volunteers for the event: when people from other
depts are pitching in.... no, it suffices to sit in our lab and crib. so
murali wants to go out for dinner, manu and i want beer, and bds is open
to any idea. the atrium is suggested, and we all promise to meet at 8.30.
come 8.30, me twiddling my thumbs at the rendezvous, no sign of the
others. some fifteen minutes later, i see bds walking down. so now its the
two of us twiddling thumbs. respective thumbs.then, just to make things
really perfect its starts raining. you know, that kind of rain u hate..
starts out in a very inoccuous 'let me get ur hair wet' way and finishes
up with a 'drown! drown! u SOB drown!'. so we decide to go to viking. why?
time, pockets, everything. anyway, a brief digression on the etymology of
the name. the owners family god is ganesha.. that is vinayak or vi-nayak
and nayak is king so vi king or viking. yes, viking: they've started out a
pseudo continental joint there. we make it in. just too many happy
families there, sunday eveing and all.. giggling away insanely like they
are all part of some air conditioner or fridge ad. a place in the
corner... where it is naturally difficult to attract the attention of the
waiter... so after feeling suitably ostracised, and having tried to draw
his attention by all possible means.. polite 'ahems', coughs and all that,
i am forced to stand up and pretend to be a semaphore. it works. the
orders are a little adventurous. the soup is chinese, or whatever passes
for chinese in this backwater.. the starter is a paneer dish.. passes for
northie in rasamland..and the main is a sizzler. then murali and manu call
and the inevitable where are u ensues.. so they turn up.. and murali is
furious cos he hates his dinners going the wrong way. anyway, so he is
kind of muttering into his soup.. and threatening to kill the waiter... so
ultimately, the main arrives.. and of course my sizzler fogs up my glasses
is nothing flat and is busy depositing a thinfilm layer of meat sauce
residue on the (formerly) white ceiling. after having attracted the
attention of the entire clientele.. all of whom have been wiser in
choosing simple paneeers and koftas.. we dig in. eventually something is
lacking. garlic bread. i mention this in passing to our waiter. he pops
away and is back with toast. toast! TOAST! i explain very clearly what
garlic bread is. he gives me an old fashioned look. u know, the kind which
tells me that 'sorry, i didn't know u were buffy the vampire slayer'. the
after a looooooooong time he is back with toast. liberal;ly laced with
grated garlic. murali is snorting into his dal.
was not the best of possible evenings out.