Vishnu's makeshift kitchen, under the luminous Helsinki sky, had morphed into a vibrant street party. Beats thumped from a borrowed boombox, rewired by Aleksi with questionable electrical safety (and possibly a sprinkle of performance art magic). Janne, draped in a flamboyant scarf Vishnu thrifted from a forgotten Bollywood movie collection, spat fire into the mic, his Finnish rap laced with playful obscenities that had Vishnu snorting laughter. A shiver of hope danced down Vishnu's spine - maybe the aroma of frying samosas and the hypnotic drone of the sitar would drown out Janne's lyrical debauchery before the wide-eyed, cookie-clutching children at the neighboring stand could decipher it all. After all, a little cultural exchange was good for the soul, but corrupting innocent minds with Finnish-Hindi street slang was probably a line well crossed!