Of Nimbekai Pura and the original Punjabi Dhaba.

Friday morning dawned bright and late, minus Take 5 after-effects. It was Saturday that took the cake. Between work and Race, i decided to go for Race. Bad move. Hard Rock Cafe post-Race, good move. Drive post-Hard Rock Cafe, very very very good move.

Took A home, left his car there, picked up mine, went to G's place, picked the twosome up, went to J's place, picked the lonesome up and just headed out to nowhere. The needle on the fuel gauge was high, and so were we. Happy, happy time aimless driving. On the way, we passed a milestone that displayed the funniest village name i've heard in a while: Nimbekai Pura. We also passed plenty of dhabas, none very suitable for gharelu bharatiya naaris to be seen in, so we passed. But then we landed up at one that S claimed was the 'original Punjabi Dhaba' - truck drivers, drunken men, unhygeinic circumstances - the works. The food was good though - and let's not analyse or even wonder why.

Much foo-fooing and leg-pulling (mostly mine) later, we decided to head back. A dropped everybody off, zipped me back home, parked my car and covered it up in record time. He was out of there before Dad had a chance to get out and catch the smell of beer on him.

Maybe this is why impromptu plans work so well - no baggage, no worries, no time to contemplate. Just get in and get out. Away, away from loneliness, a mind that works overtime and love gone sour.