The Masala Dose was wrapped in an old newspaper. I could not read it, since it was printed in Kanada, the local language of Bengaluru. However, I reckon it was printed on November 3, 2008. It showed a picture of local cricket-hero Anil Kumble, a fabulous right-arm leg spin bowler* on his day of retirement.
Indians have usually three questions:
- Are you married?**
- How many children do you have?
- Do you like Indian food?
So as today, when we were still working at 5 pm and a chap came and brought two dozens of Masala Dosa. The snack*** is quite nourishing and so I had an excuse not go for dinner with my colleagues from Switzerland at the boring hotel restaurant, which is drenched in dreadful lift-music.
This is something I really hate about business trips. You spend the entire day together, have lunch together, commute together. Only to spend the evening together, eating, boozing, moaning about work and colleagues, and spreading office gossip. And for politeness sake, you have to wait until the last has finished his last beer.**** While at home, you could be looking into the most beautiful eyes in the world, and enjoy a sensational wine, carefully selected by the man with those amazing eyes.
* as I was told.
** I usually answer this one a bit evasive since I'm here on business and the infamous Section 377 of the Indian Penal Code reads Unnatural Offences: Whoever voluntarily has carnal intercourse against the order of nature with any man, woman or animal, shall be punished with imprisonment for life, or with imprisonment of either description for a term which may extend to ten years, and shall also be liable to fine.
*** Some Indians pronounce this like snake
**** Mr. Mac, you're an exception to this rule. We could have dinner together for years and I were not bored.
