Monk's Indian Bistro Humble Novels & Stories

but Zhu Wushang's sense is better than theirs by far, so he still heard it anyway. The monk disappointingly sighs in an ungentlemanly demeanor of this Illusory Immortal Palace disciple. Zhu Wushang turned to that monk cupped his hand and asked in a respectful tone. "My name is Zhu Wushang, My wife and I respect many teachings of the Buddhist sect and the bravery tale of the brother from the small sect and rogue cultivator. May we have the honor to invite all of you to our humble home? We'll prepare a sumptuous in both Vegetarian and Normal meal for everyone.

(MISTI'S POV) As soon as I reached the dining area I sat on the chair beside Sristi, Baba and Ma were already waiting for me as always I was late. I looked at the food on the table all my favorites Bengali food was on the table, boiled basmati rice, prawn malaikari (one type of Bengali style curry made with prawn), sona mooger daal (cooked lentils in Bengali style), and mutton duckbunglow as soon as I smelled the food my mouth began to watery.

"You are finished Mahi!" On Saturday night when her parents and her brothers along with their wives and children arrived at Delhi after 4 hours drive from Greater noida, they decided to have their celebratory dinner at Mushroom villa, a classic 5 star restaurant, serving indo - Chinese and continental and much to her mother's relief - only vegetarian dishes. 'We are very proud of you, darling!" Divya her eldest brother - Chirag's wife, hugged her tight, smiling earnestly. "We all saw that interview with the banker. You killed it sis!" Tejas, her second brother grinned at her as they took their seats at their assigned table near the window.

Alfi said in a disgusted voice after hearing the explanation. “You’re very welcome,” Pinto replied friendly. The atmosphere is real silence, and it becomes more awkward. Megumi then comes with a bowl of soup and a glass of Bajigur (one of Indonesian traditional beverage, google it) on a tray. “Have a meal, honey!” Megumi said warmly. “Food! Food! Food!” Alfi said in excitement sitting cross-legged and having his soup with gusto. Megumi smiles seeing Alfi having her dish with such gusto. Just imagine a generous woman feeds a hobo who hasn’t had anything for a month.

"The Cherian breakfast here is pretty good. Sam said you should have things that are more easy to digest—it's good for your stomach." Indya placed a bowl of oat porridge in front of Blake. She herself yawned as she sat across from him, dressed simply in pajamas, her hair a messy tangle. Without makeup, she looked more natural, more like everyday life—and even cuter. It wasn't the first time Blake had seen Indya like this, but he felt that, in this moment, they were closer than ever. "Where do you want to go?" asked Indya, propping her chin on her hand.

She has always been against lying to them because she knows the consequence of lying to your business partner. I didn't know what to think about anymore but for now the storm is calm so I would just go with the flow. We all headed to the dinning, and when we got there, they took their seats. “This looks good.” Mr Jadhav said to me. I made sure the international chef makes the food because they are special guests from India, and went as far as adding some Indian dishes just in case. “What do you think about the pack?” I asked him excitedly. I was curious to hear his view and what he thinks about it.

There’s a bag in his hands. A paper bag. And not just any bag. A very specific, orange-and-green printed bag with a little smear of curry oil on the corner. I know that bag like I know the birthmarks on my own butt. That’s Punjabi Palace takeout. “Peace offering,” Monty says, holding it up like a white flag that smells like garlic naan and emotional manipulation. My stomach, betrayer of the century, growls so loudly I swear the hallway echoes with its shame.

With the date officially etched into her calendar, a restless, electric anticipation begins to thrum through Mia's veins, intensifying with every passing minute. Mia isn't about to keep all that high-octane excitement to herself. She decides that now it's the perfect moment to pull Ellie and Lisa into the whirlwind. Tonight, she could finally return the favor, reciprocating the countless invitations they had extended to her over the past few months. The Indian restaurant is tucked between a bubble tea shop and a bookstore, marked only by a string of marigold-orange lights above the door. The smell hits first—warm bread, toasted spice, something with cardamom underneath everything that makes

We walk to the Buddha Restaurant, where Daler Kuzyaev and Katrin Cajthamlova had the meal where he sent back the fish and fell ill shortly afterwards. The Buddha Restaurant is a Chinese restaurant with blinds made from bamboo and bonsai trees that are fake. The place is empty, and two waiters hover near the kitchen door. Chinese. Neat in their white shirts and black trousers. From where I am standing, I can see right into the kitchen, where pots and pans are hanging from an overhead contraption. A more senior man, dressed in white, is preparing food. A knife stutters in his hand. The waiters speak menu English, and they keep directing us to a table; finally, they understand when I ask to see

The little monk replied, “He’s in the meditation room chanting scriptures.” Charlie nodded. The group sat down in the room where the vegetarian food was served. Outside, there was a courtyard, and the windows and doors were all open. The breeze was quite cool. After such a long walk, even those with small appetites were feeling hungry. After the vegetarian meal was served, the little monk withdrew. The meal wasn’t exquisite, but the vegetables looked fresh. Marlene picked up her chopsticks to eat, but Charlie called out, “Don’t rush to eat.”