‘My Rohan has formed a band. It’s called White Noise…’ drawls Ms Phoney accent. ‘That’ sooo sweeet!’ purrs her pal, Ms Phonier, ‘so, where does he perform, besides of course at Zen, where they let just about anybody play dahling…’ Phoney’s pencil thin eyebrows shot up in shock and disappeared into her streaked scalp! A visible artic chill descended. Now everyone in that room knew that Phonier’s son Aditya was no longer Phoney’s son Rohan’s best pal. It had something to do with him snitching Rohan’s girlfriend, smashing his corvette or both…I held my breath and waited for Phoney to strike back. Phoney’s eyebrows slowly descended and a sneer twisted the corners of her thin mouth as she slowly spat out, ‘For your information, White Noise is on youtube and next month they tour the big Apple. It’s all paid for by their music company!’ Phonier smiled like a cat that’s just been handed a bowl of fresh cream. ‘Must be soooo nice to have your very own music company…’ She turns to the rest of the kitties, making sure she’s giving us her best botoxed profile. ‘Now my Aditya, dahlings, made it through Dance India Dance and all on his own’ she emphasizes. ‘Shamak said to me the other day, (dramatic pause here) this boy’s going places!’
Something crashed making everyone jump out of their Chanel makeup!
Phoney was frothing at the mouth! Her eyeballs are rolling and she looks positively demented.
‘Yeah right! I met Shamak this morning and he said the only place your Aditya is going to - is jail! Remember those million SIM cards you guys picked up, dahling?’
Phonier suddenly looks as if she’s swallowed a huge hairball. The botox crumbles and now, her Chantilly crashes to the floor!
What a waste of good wine, I quickly help myself to another generous glass before someone decides to remove the bottle, just in case. Within minutes, the Kitty Party has become a Catty Party. Suddenly everyone’s kid is the next Obama, Pink Floyd, Enrique, Picasso, Rushdie, Rowling, Brad Pitt, Angelina and Danny Boyle in the making that talent scouts are desperately chasing. By now, the wine has hit me and a false sense of bravado is coursing through my veins. I stagger to my feet.
‘Cheers! My maid’s Pappu is on TV! He’s starring with Bipasa Basu’ I blurt out gaily bursting into song, ‘Pappu can really dance sala!’. The room comes to a screeching standstill. Every kitty is busy thinking, ‘what the heck does Laxmi Bai’s kid have that my chunnu, munnu and pumpkin don’t have?’
Now dahlings, maybe it has a little something to do with talent and hard work and less with just being Richie Rich?