Deewana Phir | Yamla Pagla

"Keep it," Pritam said. "Buy a new donkey."

"And a donkey who's now a legal hero," Pritam added.

Dharam looked at his plant. "Ivy says that's better than a diamond."

"Chickens are spies," Pappu whispered, eyeing a stray hen. "They work for the tax inspector." yamla pagla deewana phir

Before they could decide, Sohanlal's goons arrived. The leader, a muscle-bound man named Kala, smashed down the door.

The chaiwala fished it out. "Whose shiny rock?"

Just then, the family donkey—whom Pappu had named "Inspector Gadheri"—charged. The donkey kicked Kala so hard that the diamond flew into the air. It landed… plop … into a pot of boiling chai at a roadside stall. "Keep it," Pritam said

And in the distance, Sohanlal—who had been trying to retrieve his diamond—was chased down the street by the same donkey, now wearing a tiny badge Pappu had made for her.

Thus began a chase through the gullies of Varanasi. Pritam, using a dhol as a shield, drummed his way through a spice market, covering the goons in red chili powder. Pappu, convinced the goons were "tax collectors," began pelting them with rotten eggs while reciting fake tax laws. Dharam, still carrying his plant, climbed onto a float of dancers and started singing a love song so off-key that half the goons covered their ears and ran away.

"Got it!" Kala laughed.

"We're rich!" Pritam yelled, holding the glittering stone. "No more stealing chickens!"

Phir se, hamesha. (Crazy. Mad. Insane. Again, and forever.)

But Kala grabbed the diamond.