So Pizza Hut it was. In India, they're pretty upscale joints, and this one was located in a fashionable part of Allahabad. Out in front of the expansive shop was a man in an ill-fitting uniform that suggested "security guard." He carried something in between a stick and a cudgel.
We ate. It ruled. We left as the sun staggered off to drunkenly bone the moon and made our way to the tuk-tuks. But our path was quickly blocked by a gang of street urchins, who darted about between us and proceeded to do adorable street urchin-y things. Before we could fully appreciate their cuteness, the Pizza Hut guard ran up waving his stick belligerently and shouting at the urchins in Hindi. They ran off as he gave pursuit, swatting them. A realization struck me just as the baton struck a fleeing kid's butt.
This man's job is to hit poor children who get too close to Pizza Hut.
As if Pizza Hut needs any help hurting children.
He'd made a career of frightening and assaulting kids to enforce the sovereignty of America's second-best terrible pizza. I never saw an Indian Papa John's, but if it exists, I assume they have guard towers and snipers.