Two street kids I'd seen around, he about 9, cocky and wild, she maybe older or just bigger, a sister? come into the restaurant while I'm having lunch. I notice 2 or 3 of the staff approach them, known obviously, but not welcome. Dirty hair, ragged clothes. Then the kid starts flashing bills about, Mr. Big Spender, and the waiters look at each other, unsure. They sit at my table. I suppose some people would think I was paying. The boy starts giving orders, pani, meals, clean this table. Pretty soon half the restaurant is chuckling to themselves, not wanting to encourage his insolence, but also enjoying his few minutes of fantasy land. He is particularly rough on the youngest waiter, still a boy himself, more rice, more sambar. Hurry! The meal was prepaid, but they
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