eM’s first Christmas (that she can remember)

So back in the 1980s, before globalisation and the internet and cable tv, Christmas was just another holiday, a day off school and I didn’t really expect much to be going on. My American cousins spoke about a TREE! and SANTA! but for me, eh, the good times ended on my birthday, and Christmas was just another of those foreign things, like Kit Kats, which only happened on the other side of the world.

 

Until my American cousins mother, my American Aunty came to visit us in Delhi and decided that CHRISTMAS had to be CELEBRATED because I was a CHILD. (And it’s criminal for kids not to have a Christmas). I don’t know how on board my parents were with this idea, I was already quite a consumerist kid, the tooth fairy being one of my main cash suppliers (what? I lost a lot of teeth!) and the addition of Santa Claus into my universe was sure to crash and burn. But once the idea of Santa Claus had been explained to me I was totally on board with the idea. A man bringing TOYS? Two weeks after my BIRTHDAY? Duuuuuuuuude. Bring it.

 

What I had to do was make a list and give it to my aunt to give to Santa. Now, I was already a little bit sceptical, but it was explained that this whole process was magic and one never questions how magic works. (Side note: my mom once told me Wee Willie Winkie visited her while I was out and asked for a piece of cheese. I believed this story for an embarrassingly long time. I think it was the cheese. Good liars always add details.)

 

So for my Christmas list I asked for

 

A snake.

 

A dollshouse.

 

And a couple of other things which I can’t remember. The snake was my testing device, if Santa brought me a SNAKE I was willing to believe.

 

Come Christmas morning and joyfully I leapt up to go look at the potted champa tree that served as a Christmas tree. And there were my presents! Remember, India in the 1980s had very little in terms of what you could get in the shops, so everything that we got was pure innovation. It was there! My snake! A gorgeous stuffed creature made out of green velvet. Okay, so it wasn’t the REAL snake I was expecting, but since I didn’t specify real on my list, I was pretty sure Santa made a mistake. Besides, I thought, wisely, a real snake would have been quite hard to keep.

 

Also the dollshouse. Here my aunt’s imagination went full swing. It was made out of wood with an open front and divided into four rooms. There was also a little staircase covered with red velvet and a pointed roof. The front was covered in wrapping paper to make it look pretty and she had sourced (or had made) little furniture to go in all the rooms. It was perfect.

 

Santa, I believe.

 

I never had a Christmas like that again, my aunt never coming over around the same time of the year and my parents not really caring about the holiday process. I got a book, something nice each year, but it was made clear to me that my holiday loot would end on my birthday. Alas.

 

But today, just as I whisk off to make merry at a Christmas party, I think about my dollshouse and my champa tree, and I smile. That was a good Christmas.

 

I hope you and yours have very happy holidays.

(almost) officially a grown up

UPDATED WITH PICTURES! INCLUDING (hold your breath) ONE OF ME!


Okay, so I had a birthday. And older readers will know, my birthday almost always = major holiday blues. Starting from the first person who RSVP’s ‘no’ my mood just gets blacker and blacker. Soon I’m in Nobody Loves Me Land (and it is a sad land, where the national anthem is ‘All By Myself’) with a trip down Whinerville.

Birthday girl doing an impression of that chick from The Ring

Luckily, this year, I had just moved to a new (old) city, and so I had no such expectations from the Great Day. My parents had already bought me my birthday present in October (the camera) and so I wasn’t expecting anything new, my friends had told me they’d come for the birthday party, but in all likelihood they’d have other shit to do (since it is December, when EVERYONE is born. Blame Holi) and so I was thinking quiet-ish party, maybe something the next evening and then dinner at my mum’s on Monday (my actual date of birth). As it turns out, the best birthdays are those from which you have no, or very little, expectations. My friend Bulbul, flew down from Calcutta a little early to be there for the actual party, and while the first few comers were a slow trickle, pretty soon it turned out to be one of the most successful parties I have ever thrown. And I don’t say this lightly either.

Antique Chinese chest, which promptly bled all over anyone who sat on it.

My house is pretty small, if possible, even smaller than my Bandra flat, two rooms, yes, but one room is pure bedroom and does not encourage hanging out. So most of the party was in my teeny tiny study/living room. With some spillage into the hall/kitchen/dining room. My grand plan was to have a fire on the roof, but the fire was a big fat failure (next time, kerosene and more wood!) described by some as ‘pathetic’, others as ‘really retro, like homeless people have’. At one point, I turned around and announced that the new theme of my party was Recession, and so, it was all very in tune with the theme. But oh my god, even with people huddled into their overcoats, trying to get as close to this pathetic fire as possible, there were people! LOADS of people. And all of them looked like they were having a good time. Lots of smiles, people mingling, lots of drinking and throwing their heads back and laughing, and it just made me feel… good. This is the way a house must be warmed, this is the way a birthday must be celebrated, this is the way I should be welcomed back into a city that I once loved and am learning to love again. Also, it was really nice to see so many, many people from my past. I felt loved and cared for, even if I might have over invited just a tad, so I couldn’t really stay with one group. I got lots of compliments on my lovely house, and many people asked if they could come again. Isn’t that awesome?

View from the window, and a bamboo plant MIRACULOUSLY still alive

The next day was the eve of my birthday, and another friend, who shares the same birthday as me, was bringing it in. Excellent, I thought, this means I won’t be alone at home reading a book (as was Plan A—you see how low my expectations were from this birthday) and so, with Bulbul in tow, we went to her (much better organised) do, and drank a lot, and at midnight (this is the sweetest thing) they made me cut the cake with her. Her friends went out of their way to make me feel included and special and loved, and over all, despite the vodka shots and the consequent puking the same night, I felt great. This is an excellent beginning to my 29th year, I said to myself, weakly, right before heaving into the toilet bowl again.

Retro postcards picked up from a small shop in London

And the next day, the actual birthday? By this time I was rather birthday-ed out. Sunday had also been the day of Nayantara’s brunch in Chhatarpur, where, even if I was feeling a little weak, I managed to stay and have a good time till the end, and Chhatarpur back home and then out again is a long day even when you’re not hungover. And this was hangover part 2, but I treated myself to a lazy day in, and then coffee at the excellent Ravi Bajaj cafe (it’s really good coffee) and then dinner at the mother’s house, accompanied by tarot card reading and talking and generally being pampered.

It was a really, really good birthday, but oh, how tired I am, and this week continues being a hectic social whirl. Last night, another birthday party, tonight a dinner, tomorrow a book thing and then the grand ol’ wedding of two friends (to each other thankfully, so only one set of functions) and then you know, the Christmas-New Year’s rush and at this rate, I will only rest in January. That is, until the Jaipur Lit Fest. Phew!

You're always welcome.

And this is just my social life. Today I have committed to write two articles, one story and one other thing that has slipped my mind at the moment, but which I’m sure will come back and haunt me one hour before my deadline.

So far, old age shows no signs of slowing me down, except for the tiredness occasionally, but I fully intend to get a WHOLE night’s sleep soon. Possibly. Before I’m dead.

Weekend accounting

Incredible weekend, darlinks, finally I’m beginning to feel Delhi-ish again. The salient points being:

 

ONE new skirt from Zara, a beautiful little wool plaid number. Half of it was a birthday present (because we have one coming up). We also went and watched the third Narnia movie which was pretty damn awesome. Narnia as a movie series being much more “true to canon” than the Harry Potter books, but the Christianity theme somehow comes out more in the movies.

 

ONE hungover eM trying to chase away the after effects of two bottles of wine consumed on Thursday by eating a very large meal at Gola Sizzlers, one of the few places left in town where you can smoke indoors. Which is nice, especially in this cold cold weather, when every part of my body longs to be back in strappy summer dresses and sandals.

 

ONE Nigah Queer Fest after party at Saqi, the bar at Hotel Alka. Have you been? Oh my god, it’s SOOOOOOOO shady, but they’ve renovated recently, which is sad because before it was all lit in red with mirrors everywhere and looked exactly like a bordello. Drinks are cheap, and they have really nice masala peanuts.

 

TWO after parties at two peoples’ houses, one at 12.30 and the other at 2 am. This is what I love most about Delhi, the insane after parties. I love, love, love house parties, they’re always so much more fun than going to a club or something. Now if only they had a 24 hour liquor store in this city, life couldn’t get any better.

 

ONE hijra leaning out of her customer’s car telling us to tell him to pay her. We watched as he shame facedly went to the ATM and she got out of the car and sashayed about a bit. The boys we were with were MESMERISED and with good reason, coz she was really hot. (I should really start taking my camera out on the weekends)

 

ONE very awful drunk guy who I absolutely loathed who mocked my hair and proceeded to be very loud and annoying. I hate drunk men, they seem to get even more full of themselves then. 

 

ONE night spent with good friends from college, sitting around drinking Old Monk, hot water, lemon and honey. Old Monk is my friend again, this season. It warms me right up.

 

ONE trip made to Vapour in Gurgaon, which I absolutely LOVED, because they played shady Bollywood music, but which the people I was with looked alarmed at being at.

 

ONE visit to TC! (TC!) only to be turned away at the door because we were too late to get in. BOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

ONE round of Kamikaze shots at Ai, which is really, really, really nice on Saturdays, with kick ass retro music (and not the usual stuff either) and Japanese anime projected on the walls and lots of people dancing, and BRILLIANT. Also, we bought four shots (for the four of us) and the bartender gave us two on the house!

 

ONE late night trip to Pandara Road at three in the morning to stuff our faces with Punjab’s finest: butter chicken, kaali daal and naans. Oh, the food in Delhi is TO DIE FOR. I didn’t realise how much I missed it until I started eating here again and then I’m just like,  SO GOOD. That’s one thing Bombay doesn’t have at any rate (and before you start writing in with all your favourite Bombay restaurants, let me say: I have been EVERYWHERE. I have eaten EVERYTHING. And compared to Delhi, food in Bombay is crap. Which is weird for a city that has such a vibrant going out culture.)

 

And finally today. I was going to go see some kids films this afternoon, but I’m feeling much too lazy. Instead I will bestir myself somewhere in the evening, go meet some friends at Lodhi gardens and then watch whirling dervishes at a Sufi festival.

 

I love being back.