Pass the hookah...

Here are some belated pics from my one and only bar outing in Kolkata. Monisha was in town and our friend Rubiath from Dhaka happened to be visiting that week as well. We headed to "Shisha," the hip new-ish hookah bar. Being the casual Americans we are, we showed up in typical hot weather attire. Monisha was nearly denied entry due to her "Hawaii sandel" (flip-flops), but I worked my bideshi magic with the suit-and-tie manager on duty. We were allowed in on probation.



The bar was nice and all, but we had an equally good time goofing off at home. We were sitting on my bed taking bad pictures of each other and recalling the good ol' Dhaka days.



Manisha insisted that we do a shot. The bartender was supposed to bring us Tequila but thankfully misheard and brought some rather weak Indian whiskey instead. Perhaps it was because "Hips Don't Lie" was thudding over the loud speakers?



I have to get makeup tips from Rubiath. Her face is like an artist's pallet, and her hair never succombs to the frizziness of brutal humidity. How do you do it, Ruby?