Gundu Seenu waddles into view, his tight Kanduva nearly coming undone, a big red bindi gleaming on his forehead. By his side, Stick-u Vasu towers awkwardly, his oversized glasses fogging up as he nervously scans the crowd. "Vasu! Look at that line for the free Laddu. It’s longer than the Kanyakumari express. I have a 'Master Plan'." "Seenu, last time you had a master plan, we spent three hours in a police station explaining why you were dressed as a coconut."

"Quiet! This time, you pretend to be a VIP from America who only speaks English. I’ll be your translator. We’ll skip the line," Seenu insists, his eyes darting with excitement. "But Seenu, the only English I know is 'Yes', 'No', and 'Very Good'." "Perfect! That’s all a VIP needs!" Seenu grins, already straightening his Kanduva and pushing Vasu toward the entrance.

"Sir, this is Mr. Stickland Vasudev from America. He speaks only English. Very important person," Seenu declares, trying to sound official. Vasu adjusts his slipping glasses and nods solemnly, resisting the urge to bolt. The priest raises an eyebrow, curious. Seenu launches into a flurry of translation, gesturing wildly as the line behind them grumbles.

The priest turns to Vasu and, with exaggerated politeness, asks, "Sir, please, will you support our temple with a generous donation?" "Very good," Vasu replies, grinning nervously and clutching his precious Laddu. The priest’s jaw drops as a murmur of excitement ripples through the crowd.

"Seenu… idi munde cheppali kada ra?" Vasu mutters, his face a picture of despair as he clutches the tiny Laddu, trying to explain his limited English and even more limited bank balance to the crowd closing in.

Vasu glowers, his glasses crooked, but relief mixes with exasperation. "Nenu unnaga, nuvvu kangarupadaku!" Seenu beams, offering Vasu half a Bajji. "Next time, just stand in line," Vasu sighs, but a reluctant smile tugs at his lips as they disappear into the bustling night, side by side.