Its midnight and the city is asleep. Well, almost asleep. There are at least 4 people who are awake, crowded into a cosy room, enjoying the last of a series of hallucinogenic plant material. In the middle lies a plate filled with sausages and a dab of pickle - Indian style pickle not those insipid vinegary American pickles. (And this was pickle from the North East. That says it all, doesn't it?)
Everyone respectfully waves the sausage in the vicinity of the pickle and eats. All except one- there is always that one person who has do things differently. And this young person digs into the pickle with gusto, unheeding of the warnings that it is one helluva spicy pickle. Her retort - I am from the land of pickles. I was born in Guntur, home of the largest chilli market in India. We have chilli in our veins....You get the picture.
That was the last piece of conversation from her for half an hour - she was too busy gulping cold beer and water.
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1 comment:
nice post this one1!
:)
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