It was on a warm afternoon last week that I ran into Mrs Super Spender at a friend’s birthday brunch. She drew me into an air kiss, and I quickly moved my head to dodge the humongous solitaire ready to jab my cheek. Then, as I was pulling away, she held my hand, looked into my eyes and declared, “I am a terrible mother.” “What?” I replied, shocked. I knew how she had focussed her considerable energy and competitive spirit to ensure her children had had the best in everything — from academic tutors to sports to extra curricular brain boosting hobbies.
Seeing my puzzled expression, she clarified: “My son just went to college in the US and I have sent him without any staff.” “Err... isn’t that normal?” I asked. She shot me an exasperated look. “Didn’t you read about that Indian family hiring 12 staff to look after their daughter when she goes to college in Scotland?” “Oh yes, I did read that,” I replied. Super Spender looked pained. “It should have struck me, how will he look after himself when everything is taken care of here? I am now looking for a Man Friday for him, and have already put the word out.” Then she smiled, reached for a glass of Moët, and flitted away.
Going out in urban Indian is so... revelatory.
It’s September and the endless almost post-monsoon socialising has begun in earnest. Between book launches, restaurant openings, film screenings and birthday parties, I feel like a whirling dervish. This past week, a programme on Ramachandra Guha’s latest book on Gandhi was on the same night as the Sotheby’s cocktail reception to showcase highlights from the auction house’s upcoming modern and contemporary South Asian art sale in London.
Earlier in the week was an Asia Society pre-screening of Manto , Nandita Das’ new film on the celebrated and much-misunderstood writer, which I was roped into to MC. Since I am obsessed with Partition and Pakistan in general (I lived there for five years in the late 1980s) I was only happy to oblige. It was a very moving portrayal and is also well-timed, given Manto’s obsession with truth and reality, qualities that both Indian and Pakistani societies love to sidestep.
And even though I have only recently returned from a carbohydrate-intensive trip to Italy, it was simply too hard to eat at home all the time, when buzzing new places are popping up in the city. I couldn’t help but check out Miss T, the new Colaba restaurant everyone’s been descending upon in droves. Co-owned by neighbourhood stalwarts — Gauri Devidayal of Table and the boys behind the beloved Woodside Inn — the cosy bar and dining booths make it well suited for a night out. On the heels of Miss T will be another dining hot spot, Rue du Liban, in Kala Ghoda. This one is dreamy looking, and is based on food from the Levant. Ever since I got a sneak peek I feel like crimping my hair, wearing a flapper dress and channelling early 20th century glamour.
Since Diwali is about six weeks away, the doorbell has also begun to ring in earnest with lots of gifts and hampers. Did I mention how much I love this season? From spices and ladoos to chocolates, it’s raining edibles treats! One that really got me excited is the biscotti from Dolcemi, an artisanal bakery run by Kaveer Shahani and his Italian partner Mirella Fiore, which makes everything from chocolate truffles to chocolate chip cookies to varieties of biscotti, all made in Mumbai. Clearly, it’s now that time of the year when temptations abound and the waistline goes for a toss.
This fortnightly column tracks the indulgent pursuits of the one-percenters.
