Hotel Hyderabad

My sarcastic take on recession in food loving Hyderabad.

Hope you like it(i mean the poem, not the food ).

My taste buds were already tingling, as I entered the hall
And spotted the Biryani counter next to the kebab stall
As I checked out the tikkas from the corner of my eye
And took in the fragrance of the spicy chicken fry
The counter next to it served sambhar and curd
I moaned and cursed and  said the F-word
I could hear them chew and I could hear them munch
As my eyes fell upon the board “Unlimited buffet lunch”
I reached into my pockets and estimated my wealth
The single torn currency defined my financial health
I called up the waitress and asked for her advice
“What can i get Madam, for a reasonable price?”
She gave me her “Ahh!! You are an engineer” look
I would rather have had the “Ahh! You are a crook”
She called up the manager and what she said is mystery
They pitied me and must have looked into my credit history
I frowned as she pointed me to the counter labeled  “Curd Rice”
And she said “We are all prisoners here, of our own device”