Wednesday, March 4, 2009
ARE YOU READY TO PARTY?
I have a confession to make.
Weekends have begun to have a rather queer effect on me these days. The very mention of doing dinner and wham! I break out into a cold sweat... Ever since the expressway zoomed into our Puneri lives, a new breed of party animals have insidiously invaded our addas and taken Partying to an AXN art form, packing in chills, thrills and spills once night falls. It all begins with a very glossy, glamorous, out-of-this-world invite that completely seduces your simple Puneri soul making you forget the nostalgia of informal potluck dinners. ‘What am I going to wear?’ my acne, hives and allergies swing into high drive as I begin agonizing about everything from my mousey hair to my callused toes. Of course hubby, kids and maid Laxmi bai can’t seem to understand why I’ve lost my marbles over a simple dinner invite and insist on adding their two bit advice that ranges from – ‘it’s only a dinner party’ to ‘mommy you look beautiful even in your pajamas’ to ‘Memsahib, eating out is making you fat!’.
But the seeds of desire have been sown...
And the small town guppy will do anything to swim with the big city sharks. ‘This is outrageous!’ laid back hubby sputters, misses his golf swing and messes up his handicap when he sees the bill I’ve just run up at the latest designer boutique. ‘Hai ram! What have you done to your hair?’ Laxmi bai screeches when I walk in looking like a golden retriever. ‘Arrey you are an Indian, memsahib not some phirang!’ she spits contemptuously!
Annoyed, I storm out to the malls to find that one elusive gift that will earn me yet another exclusive dinner invite in the days to come. By the evening, I’ve found an abstract that looks suitably abstracted enough to gather serious appreciation from my host. By 8pm, I look like a million dollars, having spent nearly as much; I take a deep breath and step forth to make my grand entry into the elite circle…
Two hours later at the fancy venue, the only ones who have witnessed my grand entry are the waiters and the bandwallahs… who are presently trying very desperately to keep us awake by plying us with wine and song and constantly assuring us that the hosts will turn up any minute. ‘Are you sure we’re at the right place? Did you read the time right? I’ve got to catch a flight tomorrow!’ By now its 11pm, my stilettos are killing me, my make up is fading fast, my tummy’s rumbling and my yawns are getting louder. ‘It’s time to leave’ my exasperated hubby hisses, when suddenly the party animals descend. There’s no way one can exit now. The glamour, the paparazzi, the scintillating talk, all keep you hooked till you stagger out at an unearthly hour, a changed person. ‘Memsahib, this is Indian Standard Time. Kuch time peh nahin hota! (Nothing is ever on time!) Just go to bed, wake up at midnight and head out!’ Laxmi bai decrees through a mouthful of paan.
So that’s my mantra for the next Pune party.
Hopefully, I’ll be wide awake and rocking this time round!
Published in DNA Funny Bone Sunday March 1 2009