So the mad house was graced with Sue’s presence over the weekend. She and Vicky fit right into the guest room and although I’ve met her a million times before, this was fun. I finally understand how people meet online, fall in love and get married. No, this is not my coming out post. I don’t love Sue in that way at all. And Rads came too. And it was like we were in school. We were noisier than both my kids put together. Who were rather shocked at how loud their mother could be.
The OA took us out for lunch to eat chaat. Rads was most upset at being fed hygeinic chaat. I guess it just doesn’t taste so good unless the chaatwala blows his nose into the jeera jal. We then shopped at GK N block at where else, my favourite place, Cottons. The OA parked and slept in the car like all the other drivers. He only perked up finally when Vicky arrived and he had company.
There’s something to be said for a man who doesn’t care when his wife gets on to a Bullet with a relative stranger and goes off for a ride. The OA belongs to that category and so does Vicky, who just pulled his jacket around his ears, went brrr… and settled into the warmth and comfort of our car on a cold winter midnight, as we followed Oye Pancho and Sue on the bike. Apparently I hadn’t fed Sue enough because she wanted a hot dog at 11.55 pm and apparently she hadn’t made enough fun of me for the table being laid with napkins and cutlery because I was still feeling kindly towards her.
It was a typically Delhi situation. Midnight but that part of town awake. Music blaring out of open car windows. Fancy aunties in fancier outfits. Funny how self-conscious you get and how ‘aware’ you are of the over-dressed girl in the knee length boots when visitors are in town! Every flaw is glaring and in your face. But you also feel this surge of pride everytime you pass the endless green belts and lovely broad roads.
The next morning was to have been a buffet at Nirulas but that didn’t happen and Beq turned up, all sleepy after a night of partying and we decided to do a buffet table ourselves with stacks of pancakes, toast, salami, sausages, juice, preserves, flasks of tea and eggs to order and lots of conversation. Much fun.
Sue and I shopped at Sarojini after that and left the place rather heartbroken although Sue promises to be back in a month or so, when I hope to be less broke.
It’s rather easy to tell the real fathers from the fathers who say they can’t come for their game of tennis today because they’re ‘babysitting’. Vicky who didn’t seem to be enjoying his break away from the Bhablet fed my kids their porridge, carried the Brat on his shoulder and in passing settled his pants and hair. He did try to scare the Bean by following her around making funny sounds, but he cracked up when the Bean looked him up and down and then came to me with a “Excuse me mamma, this man is scaring me.” In my defence, I tried to scold Vicky but I wasn’t very successful. She finally figured that Sue was the person in charge of the scary man and took it up with the concerned authority – “Excuse me Maashi – that man is scaring me.”
Yes, you can accuse the Bean of a lot, but you can’t accuse her of being ill-mannered.
It was a fun time and it was nice to hang out with parents who are as up for fun as we are. The OA and I often come up with wild spur of the moment plans and it seems that no one else is up for midnight drives and dancing. I really wish these guys lived closer.
The kids wish so too. The Brat cried piteously for Vicky after we dropped them off at the airport and slunk down between the seat to sulk on the floor. Looking at pictures of the weekend he points to the screen and goes, ‘Hey, there’s Vicky mesho, I want him back.’ And then as an afterthought – ‘And Sue mashi too.’
So do I, bratty, so do I.