The tale of the sugarcane juice

She walked towards the sugarcane stall with 12 rupees secured safely in hand. After all, her nana had given them to her. It was the first time he had ever shown any affection towards her—even if he had just wordlessly handed it over to her… maybe it had got something to do with her jaundice….

The tale of the Avocado on Toast @The Clearing House

He was a douchebag. Imagine a not-so-good-looking Johnny Bravo kind of guy with a stink-in-the-nose kind of expression at all times. It was a lethal combination. He drove people nuts with his selfies. They were everywhere. On Facebook, every day he stole a quote from Winston Churchill and other badasses and wrote them like he…

The tale of the Signature Sundae @6th Street Yogurt

There we stood between the narrow alleys of a dingy city. Bombay. Mumbai. Maximum City. The place had many names. But every tongue that uttered it had a dream. My dream, was to make a home here. I was a writer, a struggling one. I landed a job in an advertising agency that paid me…

The tale of the Green Tea Martini @Theory

There was always a theory for everything. And the one she was looking for — was currently muddling her head up successfully. It was the case of The Missing Solitaire, the one that was splashed across the headlines of every newspaper. Taking a swig off her fragrant Green Tea Martini, she waited for her date…

The tale of the Tempura Prawn Roll @Flea Bazaar Café

Merci Macklemore stepped out into the world 24 years after they finished experimenting on his brain. He was a grown-up kid with the looks of a Greek God. The girls swooned over him as he passed by in his ill fitting jeans, a ragged tee. He smiled back, used to all the attention. After all,…

The tale of the signature bun @Papparoti Mumbai

He looked up at his mother with defiance. A streak of anger clouded his brow. “But you promised,” he said. “Are you going to break it? Is this what you’re going to do to me?” She held his little fingers while holding back a smile, “Chocolate is not the answer to everything.” His feet stamped…

The tale of the fettuccini in pesto sauce at The Korner House

As she read the glaring headline in the newspaper, her heart skipped a beat. A mutilated face of an 8-year-old child stared back at her. Soaking in the injustice that happened to her, she played with the twisted strands of pasta dipped in a gorgeous pesto sauce. She took a bite of it, savoured its…

The tale of the onion rings @woodsideinn

There she sat. Dressed in white, ripped jeans. And a wonky smile. There was nothing pretty about that smile. But it drew him in completely. He stared at her shamelessly as she bit into a crisp onion ring. She seasoned her perfectly shaped lips as she took a bite. The lovely sound of her crunching…