Butter Chicken - My story
Butter Chicken - My story. Additional inputs from Bombay Twitterati
Six young nay older boys, with wisps of hair and cracked voices cycling as the evening rushed towards a clear moonless night. There was absolute silence, reaching a kind of garage, where there were a few petromax burning large, a dozen tables laid out with odd chairs and stools. Silently parking the cycles, came closer to read a board. Decision reached and then everyone counted the ₹ and paise…
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