Gulab jaamun gang -- the syrupy menance...

It was a lazy Sunday morning. Raju was sprawled on his bed like a starfish, wearing his favourite SpongeBob shorts, scrolling through conspiracy memes.

His phone was in one hand, half-eaten samosa in the other. He was halfway through a video titled “10 reasons pigeons are secretly government drones” when—

BAM! 💥

A thunderous noise shook his door, followed by a deep, dramatic voice.

SWC (yelling): “RAAAAJUUUUU! OPEN THE GATE OF DESTINY!”

Raju (groggy): “Gate of… what? Bro, it’s 10 AM. I just woke up.”

Before he could even get up, the door flew open like in a slow-motion action movie. Standing there was SWC — sunglasses glinting, scarf flapping in a wind that did not exist indoors, and in her hoof… a suspicious pink box.

Raju: “Is that… a jewellery box?”

SWC (whispering dramatically): “No, Raju… this… is a CRIME SCENE.”

She plopped it onto his bed and opened it. Inside were five perfectly round gulab jamuns — but each had a tiny paper tag sticking out like a spy gadget.

Raju: “Uh… are these… labelled desserts?”

SWC: “These are coded messages from the Gulab Jamun Gang.”

Raju: “…The what now?”

SWC: “The Gulab Jamun Gang, Raju! A dangerous group who hide stolen jewellery inside sweets and smuggle them out from wedding buffets.”

Raju: “That… sounds fake.”

SWC: “So does a cow wearing Ray-Bans, but here we are.”

– The Wedding Infiltration

The duo set off for the “Grand Galaxy Banquet Hall” — the most luxurious wedding venue in the city.

Chandeliers so shiny you could see your future in them, fairy lights brighter than Raju’s grades in 3rd class, and perfume in the air so strong it could knock a buffalo unconscious.

SWC had disguised herself… which was a disaster in itself.

She wore a heavy maroon lehenga, fake eyelashes so big they could create shade, and enough gold jewellery to buy a used Maruti Alto.

Raju (whispering): “You look like you robbed the bride.”

SWC: “Shhh… blending in.”

They approached the dessert section.

The gulab jamun bowl sat there — massive, silver, and looking innocent.

SWC leaned over like a detective inspecting fingerprints.

Raju: “What are you doing?”

SWC: “Every gulab jamun has a unique aroma. These… smell suspiciously like car polish.”

Raju: “That’s… disturbing.”

Just then, a shady man in a sherwani slid next to the bowl. Without a word, he scooped four gulab jamuns into his pocket and casually walked away, as if pocket-jamuns were a normal snack strategy.

Raju: “That’s him! The gulab guy!”

SWC: “Follow the syrup trail!”

 – Gulab Chase 3000

The chase began.

They weaved through the banquet hall — SWC knocking over chairs, Raju stopping every 2 seconds to apologise to guests:

“Sorry aunty, your samosa is safe.”

“Sorry uncle, your wig is safe… oh wait, no it’s not.”

The thief ducked behind the DJ booth. SWC pounced like a slow-motion action hero (but with more mooing).

She grabbed one gulab jamun from his pocket — it burst open, revealing… a rolled-up gold chain dripping with syrup.

Raju: “OH MY GOD… you were right!”

SWC (smirking): “I’m always right. Also…” [eats the gulab jamun] “…this is delicious evidence.”

The DJ, confused, thought it was part of the entertainment. Suddenly “Mundian To Bach Ke” blasted from the speakers, and wedding guests formed a circle around them, cheering like it was a dance battle.

– Justice, Sweet Justice

Security dragged the thief away, and the bride herself stepped forward.

She thanked SWC and offered her a fresh plate of gulab jamuns — free of gold chains this time.

SWC put on her shades, flicked her scarf, and said:

“Case closed. Stomach open.”

Raju: “Every time I think you can’t get weirder…”

SWC: “Oh, just wait till you hear about the Jalebi Mafia.”

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