IndiJoe... Oh no !

Honestly working continuously for days without end , weekdays and weekends all alike, takes its toll on you. You are exasperated, irritated and sour all the time. I felt like smashing crockery like Connie at times. Thank God we do not have lot of porcelain around here.  My brother calls to ask if I was labouring away on Labour's day too. He wants us to get together, oh yes the regular 6, and just chat over some good food. Then he had bowling planned for the evening. I look down upon me with great pity. While everyone is gonna have fun , I will be sitting at home , drinking my horrible tea about countless times through the day and breaking my head over some piece of code. No! I am putting my foot down ...

 " Whats special ? Whatever it is I am in ! ", I bellow into the phone.

" See ya May Day, Hay Day " , I hear from the other end. Thats all I needed. Not to know where why how. Just the fact that I will be off one day made me feel psychotically happy.

After working in office till 9.30 on a Monday which saw not many people coming in, I got home all tired . Had my evening bath followed  by dinner and again logged in to check if something new had come up. My roomie gave me an oh-no-not-again look but then retired to bed when I did not pay much heed. As the time ticked by I slowly moved from sitting up straight cross legged to sleeping on the abdomen on my bed to gradually pushing  my laptop in place of my pillow and dozing off on it. Wasnt much surprised to see Greek Latin typed on the browser tab when I woke up at somewhere close to dawn. Then switched off the lights and my laptop and slipped into deep slumber. 

Next day when my eyes opened it was already 10.30. A perfect start for a day taken off :) Had my tea which arguably tasted better. And I hear the muffled rings of my phone. Somewhere in the abyss called my bag lay my phone ringing to be answered. My hand battled its way in, cutting through infinite plastic bags , newspapers, pens , I found it ... still ringing. It was my brother.

" Are you ready?" The mouthful of tea stuck in my throat. Amidst a bout of coughing , watering of eyes and staring at the ceiling to come back to life, I finally managed, " Now?" . " Ofcourse the reservaton is for 12.30" I look nervously at the watch, it says 11.15 and I have to reach where?

 "Indijoe, you come to our place and we can drive down together." 

"I dont know the place , you give me directions and I will see you there."

" No , you come to my place. I insist" 

" Ok then"

I make a dash for the bathroom and in a matter of half hour I am out of my place. Surprisingly I get the bus in time and reach my cousin's door at dot 12. They pick me up and we reach the place in time to see the other 3 seated . We all gear up to dig in :)

My brother and his friend tell us stories of  "the" Indijoe in Carlton Towers. As they described the mouth watering dishes delicacies they served there , the glutton that I am, started dreaming of the perfectly cooked chicken , tender fish and the colourful tarts. The soup was served . Tomato it was. And the dreamy bubble took a jerk. Not a big fan of soup, I tried to swallow it as quickly as possible. 

Without further ado, the waiter served the hors d'oevres . And he kept the plate of the veg ones right in front of me. So I thought why not. First thing I put in my mouth ... Cauliflower! I look at the waiter with what-wrong-have-I-done-to-you look. He sure does not read me right because next thing I know , I am being served more of it. I do away with the flower and help myself with the chicken starters. Though not the biggest of chicken fans, the schezwan pops surely are good enough to pop them in, in quick succession. 

Now is time for some salad and bread. Not a big ghaas-phus fan, I head for the chicken salad and spiced bread. The chicken salad was good. I loved the way the perfect cubes of chicken , pepper and onions mixed in mayo , chilli sauce and generous amounts of herbs and spices. Things or rather the food was looking up . I again set out pushing through the growing crowds lining up for the buffet. 

Yes, the crowd. When we reached , it was sparsely populated but with ever passing minute there seemed to be more and more people flocking in. It was then I realized why my brother had made the reservations well before time. There were lines right from dishes to the salads, the chaats, pasta to sweets.

Somehow the chaats and roomali roti counters right next to the pasta counter did not seem right. I did not want the chaats so was not much of an issue. The custom-made pasta was very good. The thick white sauce, generous amounts of cheese and the corn. Corn ! My idea because I love corn, reminds me of the corn and cheese enchilladas I have in Crunchy Munchy. After the pasta , I thought of trying some main course. But the desserts were so appealing to eyes that I dare not fill in.

Not a paneer lover again, I did not try anything in Veg. I laid my hand or better, laddle in my hand , on the fish curry and white rice. Cooked in Bengali style , was the Bongs' favourite Rohu. Honestly I did not mind the curry though the opinion at our table was not the same. Maybe I am always biased when it is comes to fish. I so love it that in any form , I cant help but love it. Although when in comes to Filet-o-Fish , I would beg to differ.

After that started the biggest anti-climactic end any meal ever could have. The chocolate pudding was the one I had always an eye for. Chocolate is one thing I can absolutely never say no to.  I believe you the first you put in anything made of chocolate should be your teeth. And so dying to do the same, me and Prachi made way to the dishes counter. But the line ofcourse kept us from reaching the last of them. We stood there waiting for over 20 minutes just to get the plates. People around looked equally harrowed by the same.

Finally after a long wait , we got one plate hence atleast Prachi could start. Some foreigners tired of the lines, unavailability of plates and the suffocating gangway where the buffet were laid, quit returned to their tables empty-handed. Finally , the plates were available. All waiting for plates got them. The Manager made sure even the foreigners were  called back and served their fill. Finally after an half hour's wait, I got the plate and I headed for the pudding I had been looking forward to since past 2 hours. I have always believed in second helpings so I took economically the first time . And it proved to be wise. I collected the Kiwi mousse and the mango and orange pastry too. I thought I will keep the icecream for later as I have them every other day. I had half mind to skip them honestly. All excited I reached the table and scooped a piece of the pudding and put it in the mouth. The first thing I realised was there was an excess of egg used here. The smell of the eggs filled my nose , mouth and my sinuses.The pudding lacked the necessary sweetness. The star of the show had let me down. I really felt let down . I just nibbled all the other sweets in my dish only to be disappointed all the more. 

I decided I could not have it any more. I tasted the much talked of mango icecream but nothing could make up for the pudding. We paid the bill and made our way out. Though there were parts of the meal I really loved, all in all, for me, it was a downer. Maybe you need to work harder to get up from the ashes of Carlton !