My best friend's wedding

I WENT for Sonya’s wedding in the black suit and red bow tie from my high school farewell. It doesn’t fit after 10 years but I don’t have the four-five thousand for a new one.
I was a little surprised on reaching the venue. A few UT policemen were hanging around. Uncleji, Sonya’s papa, is a senior officer but he doesn’t seem the kind to curry favour with netas.
Maybe, the DC had come, I thought. A truck each of Punjab Police and Haryana Police stood at the pandal’s entrance. The place was swarming with policemen. Man, it could mean both the chief ministers and guv Jacob were there! Here was my chance to redeem my future.
I ran to the adjoining kitchen tent, stole a tray laden with drinks and planted myself at the entrance to receive their excellencies. A heavy hand clapped on my shoulder and I was dragged inside.
A box each to either ear made my head swim. When the scene stabilised, I was at the centre of a line-up of similarly attired but smelly men. I realised these were waiters. “Weren’t you told to assemble here?� growled a burly inspector. “Not I,� I said. Somebody kicked me behind the knee, ouch! “Don’t act smart,� the inspector menaced.
“Where were you at night on November 25, December 3, December 7 and December 17,� he said. “At the office,� I replied, completely bewildered. “Office, haan,� the inspector boxed me repeatedly.
“I know what office you attend at midnight. Office ka bachcha; I am sure he is the one, sir,� the inspector said to a man who had been watching me quietly. The other policemen nodded. The quiet one now stepped into the picture. He was a DSP. “Where do you stay,� he said.
“Right here, on this campus,� I replied. “Fetch the campus guard,� the DSP ordered. The guard arrived, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. “Know this man,� the DSP asked the guard. The latter nodded. “Noted anything fishy about him,� the DSP pursued.
“Yes, sir,� said the guard, “he always returns after midnight. Sometimes at two or three.� That’s because I’m a journalist, I wanted to tell them but wasn’t allowed to.
“What else,� said the DSP, “does he return drunk or something?� The guard said, “No, sir, he’s always sober. Drives in a straight line.�
“Without a doubt, sir, he is the kingpin,� said the inspector, “he stays sober and does all the planning.� Everybody agreed.
I was bound and carried off to the police station. There, the DSP dictated this press note, “The kingpin of the gang involved in burgling shops all over Chandigarh and Mohali was caught in a joint operation on Sunday. The accused, like the other gang members, used to work part-time with a caterer...�
Finally, the press photographers were called in to show off the trophy. Thank god, Sakki, our lensman, was there or I would have been in a real spot.
I was let off on his word. But nobody could save that wretched suit. I’ve burnt and buried it.