Panic at the Haveli
Haveli, one of the most reputed and expensive restaurants of Lahore, famous for its iconic view from the balcony facing the majestic ‘Badshahi Masjid’, oozes class and extravagance for most. As soon as you enter through the tunnel illuminated with red neon lights, you realize that the inside world is completely different from the exterior which looked very shabby. A nearby assistant led us towards the elevator as we were guided towards the real floor of the restaurant where the reception was overcrowded with awaiting customers. Having previously visited this restaurant alongside my parents, the experience of reserving seats was something new and as an introvert, several hurdles had to be crossed as we finally found two seats at the rooftop of the building located in the new food street of Lahore.
However, like any other plan which involves me, this lunch had several implications which would cause some headache. The thing is that when we entered the food street, I had a total of 2400 Rupees and my friend had empty-pockets (there was a reason I don’t remember). Before deciding to eat at Haveli, we desperately craved the traditional “tandoori chai” and wasted one-fourth of our budget on tea which was horrific and pathetic, leaving us with a total sum of around 1800 Rupees (plus-minus all the change I had stacked in the secret pocket of my wallet. Therefore, while assessing the menu, a famished Faaiz, carefully observed the costs of dishes, applying the ‘cost-benefit’ analysis, and planned an order that satisfied their hunger and was under the total budget we had.
“So you see the Chicken Karahi costs Rs.1050, add 3 Naans and 2 bottles of Coke, we should be well under 1800 right?” I asked my friend and she proved to be more cooperative and said, “Skip the drink for me, I’m fine this way”. While you would expect me to let go of my persistence to get a Coke for myself, the fact remains that I just can’t have food without any liquid (and they weren’t serving smaller water bottles). We called the waiter, placed our order, and later observed those sitting around us. Haveli is a place that has some very eccentric customers not seen at regular restaurants. The table on our right was occupied by a family celebrating the “Nikkah” of their children and everyone was dressed so fancily with jewelry to complement their riches as they rejoiced in happiness. They were singing, screaming, and speaking at the top of their voices which always intimidates me as I kept looking towards them before my friend said, “Stop looking at them, it looks very intimidating”.
After nearly ten minutes, a waiter arrived with mint yogurt and placed it on our table. DUDE! WE’RE ALREADY ON A BUDGET CONSTRAINT, WE CANNOT AFFORD LUXURIES LIKE MINT YOGURT. Before I could even ask my friend if she’s fine if I get it removed, she automatically addressed the waiter and asked him to take it away. Meanwhile, the strange uncle employed to sing at the restaurant came over and started singing near our table. Pretty sure he wanted a tip or something, which was not an option for us, therefore, we humbly listened to his songs (my elder brother can sing better) and clapped at the end as a substitute for the tip. You can’t buy anything with simple claps, and it’s not even Google Medium, as the singer left feeling slightly disgusted, believing that he met a couple of misers.
We didn’t have to wait much longer as the food was soon served and despite the hype and praises to back this particular food chain, my mind automatically started comparing it with the cheap Chicken Karahi we regularly ate at Zakir Tikka from our university which has the bonus of costing less than 400 Rupees, but I preferred keeping my mouth shut, shushing my views. We were midway through the lunch when my friend said, “Is it just me or the Karahi we eat back at university tastes better?” BINGO! I was waiting for this comment and that was the triggering point as I started naming food points that serve better food than this overpriced food seller. We tried our best to make sure to finish everything, not even sparing the extra gravy and the waiter came to ask for our desserts. In light of our limited money, we opted to skip the sweet and asked for the bill.
Right……….so are we going to clean dishes? I could call my father but by the time he comes to Old Lahore, at least an hour would have been wasted. So with a sense of hesitation, I asked my friend, “Ummmmm…….the bill just arrived and we have to pay Rs.2480…….. I don’t know what they charged for”. The news shocked her too as she asked for the bill and double-checked everything that we ordered. “Yar Faaiz ab kya karain?” she asked.
It was time to show why my dad is awesome. 4 years ago, before I even turned 18, he handed me a supplementary credit card and told me to use it in case of any emergency where I ran out of money. And the last time I used the card was back in 2018, where I was dining out with my friends and the bill far exceeded our expectations. The dilemma in this case, which stopped us from celebrating an escape, was the fact that I didn’t use the card for almost three years and it may have gone dormant. Nevertheless, we asked for a credit card machine and after whispering “Bismillah” and all the mini Surah I could remember, we swiped the card AND IT WORKED!
UFFFFFFFF!!!!!! I COULD ONLY SEND DUAS TO MY DAD AT THAT MOMENT! HE SAVED US FROM A POSSIBLE DISASTER! Once relieved from this issue, we began to enjoy the mesmerizing sight from the top of the restaurant and jokingly told each other, “Paisay Saray view kay hain, food is useless”.
