Cricket Uncut

A group blog run by professional cricket writers from across the world

Tuesday, March 15, 2005

The city of Burg

At my old colonial haunted hotel, which I shall blog about in detail later, and which deserves a novel of its own, I felt hungry. So I looked through the menu card, and decided to order a chicken hamburger. I called room service.

"I'm calling from Room XXX," I said. "I'd like to order a chicken hamburger please."

"I'm sorry sir," the disembodied voice said, "we don't have chicken hamburger. But we can send you a chicken burger."

"Wha," I wha'd. "What are you talking about?"

"Sir we don't have ham," the voice said. "So we can't give you chicken hamburger. But chicken burger is available."

I sighed, and ordered. Kolkata's old-world charm is, well, charming, but surely they'd know by now that hamburgers were named thus because they originated in Hamburg, not because there's bloody ham inside. And the said item, when it came, was greasy. And three types of taxes were charged, including a hefty service tax.

The greasy waiter hung around after putting the plate down. "Wha?" I wha'd.

"Sir, your blessings," he said.

"Yeah, right," I replied. "Aayushman bhava, dude."
amit varma, 11:15 PM| email this to a friend | permalink | homepage