Granted, Maharajas don’t have meeting minutes to write and report home, but I’m more easily satisfied.  After a meeting I dreaded because there was no agenda and notoriously bad communication preceding it, I didn’t mind that it lasted a good five hours because it went much better than expected.  Add to that the possibility to have my suit dry-cleaned in one day tomorrow, and that’s reason enough for a small-scale celebration. 

I ambled about aimlessly in search of a restaurant that suited me, saw an ad for El Torito, saw the twenty-odd people sitting in a row outside (though compared with the Krispy Kreme line that’s tame), and decided to try the one Japanese restaurant, which was too expensive, and the other, which was full, finally arriving at the Indian restaurant Maharaja, where I snagged a seat in the smoking section as had so many non-smokers before me, judging from the sparse smoke.  (Besides, I suppose it’s a three-way tie between smoke, Indian food, and rainy season sweat.)  I ordered (and ate) Hara Bara Kabab, Kaburi Naan (naan with chopped raisins and cashews), and spicy lamb kabab along with a plain lassi and an Indian Shiraz that tasted good even before the food came.  I admit that I didn’t quite fit the typical restaurant visitor – there were plenty of foreigners, but they were either there on business or with a Japanese girlfriend.  For some reason I hadn’t thought ahead to plan that accessory acquisition correctly, but I don’t think it would have been appreciated…  Besides, it made me aware that I am missing someone who I know is missing me, and both of us for good reason.  And with that, I think I’m better off than even your average Maharaja.