The three of them were sitting around a round table in the motel restaurant, simply passing the time.
"Today was just a bad day," Darren said, initiating the conversation.
"And the evening was particularly bad," Babu added, sharing his experience.
"And the night…," the driver spoke, "Is this going any better?"
Just then, as if Darren realized something, he turned to the driver.
"Hey driver, what's your name?" He took a sip from his glass and asked with curiosity. "We've been together for so long, yet you never told us your name."
"You never asked, sir."
"Well, I'm asking now," Darren said. "So, tell me."
The driver hesitated for a moment. Could he really be so familiar with these strangers?
But just telling his name—just that—what harm could it do?
"Ballu," he thought for a moment. "Bal… jeet," he said softly.
"From Delhi?" Babu asked, securing his briefcase near his feet.
"No," Baljeet replied.
"Then?"
Before he could answer, a waiter arrived at their table, ready to take their order.
"Yes, sir," the waiter said with a professional smile, bowing slightly as he placed a menu card on the table.
"What do you think?" Darren glanced at his two companions. "Shall we order something while we wait for the crowd to clear?"
Baljeet hesitated—perhaps due to his social standing. Babu immediately noticed and quickly said, "Your bill is on me."
"Oh no," Ballu said, seemingly embarrassed. "It's not about that."
"Now that fate has brought the three of us together by chance, we're friends for as long as we stick together," Darren said. "So we'll talk about the bill later. For now, just order."
"But, sir…"
"Have you eaten?" Darren cut him off and asked directly.
Baljeet hesitated again.
"Okay, so it's settled. Tonight's dinner—late dinner—we three strangers will have together," Darren said.
"But…" Baljeet tried to speak.
"All three of us," Babu interrupted firmly.
Baljeet took a deep breath and fell silent.
"Great," Darren caught the signal and then turned to the waiter standing beside him. "By the way, is food even served at this hour?"
"Absolutely, sir," the waiter reassured him. "We serve our guests round the clock."
The three of them discussed and placed their dinner order.
"By the way," Darren asked the waiter, "this round-the-clock service—is it just for food, or…?"
"Sir, we do not serve alcohol after legal hours," the waiter said, catching the hint, and then added in a low voice, "Legally."
"Perfect," Darren said happily.
For some reason, Baljeet felt as if Babu was pleased to hear that too.
"What do you say?" Darren asked the two of them.
"Let's do it," Babu immediately agreed.
"Not me," Baljeet declared.
"Oh, come on," Darren tried to prod him. "What kind of logic is that?"
"No means no."
"Why?"
"Because I don't drink."
"You drive a taxi, you're a driver, and you don't take a sip?" Darren said. "That's hard to believe."
"It may be," Baljeet said. "But it's still true."
"Just one…"
"No," Baljeet said firmly.
"But…"
"No," Baljeet repeated, more emphatically this time.
"Why?"
"Because I don't drink."
"Refuse the first time, every time," Darren said.
"Say whatever you like, sir, I won't take it."
"First of all, stop calling me sir," Darren commanded. "I just said, as long as we're together, we're friends."
"Yes…" Baljeet hesitated again.
"Loosen up, loosen up," Darren laughed. "That's not how friends talk."
Friends!