Sunday, if old songs from the 60s are to be believed, is supposed to be a day of rest. Not true at all, last Sunday for me. Hurried and harried socialising, really, truly, madly, as I dashed off from d/d's house in the armpit of Andheri, after spending the night there, to the apartment of a lovely little lady.
Well, not really very little, but her room mate's boyfriend is quite yummy, and so I'm inclined to be kind to the Insane Bitch. All on account of the cute roomie's boyfriend who comes out of the room sleepy eyed and tousle-haired.
(Viji, stop laughing. Yes, I'm joking. I hate straight men, and everyone knows that.)
I'm not sure what I had in mind, about meeting Vijayeta before meeting Vijayeta. I expected a dynamo That Woman who would regale me with stories of asshole exes and show me her closet full of sharp black stillettoes. I thought I would fade away in the background of a plethora of rich and whacky gay men, and since I'm neither rich nor very whacky, I must admit that I was a bit apprehensive about meeting Viji.
Of course, Insane Bitch will probably hate me for stripping apart her online armour, but Viji's one of the sanest people I know. She does have an insane hankering after shoes, the expensive ones, but she also wears the tackiest rubber chappals at home. We chatted about saddi dilli, and how we both love it, and though that may not exactly sound very endearing to this audience which is decidedly Bombay-biased, we had a really great time yakking. Bitching. Moaning (about servants, mind you!). And Mooning over good looking men on the telly. Quite a normal fag-meets-hag kind of a situation. I'm so thrilled she's not the Rich Bitch With Attitude kind of a person. Whew!
And then there was lunch with family. Very nice, atop Shoppers Stop in Bandra, ginger honey chicken for starters, fried rice and devilled pork for main course. Time for hair cut, so right now, I really DO have that buzzed cut that the famous pic in black shorts boasts of!
Time to meet Wicked Witch of the West (Bandra). WWW is Nature Boy's original fag hag - sorry, da-ling, I forgot how you hate that word - and I treated her reverentially as The In-law at one point of time. Of course, with age, the old witch has thawed her cold tits, and the two of us went to St Peter's for a bout of six o'clock evening mass. That dispensed with, it was time to meet Pansy Straight Boy at JATC's. WWW painstakingly sharpened her claws for the meeting.
For the record, PSB is a friend of a friend, whom I'd met in saddi dilli when I was living there. He's moved to Bombay now, and we decided to meet up. It was his bad luck that WWW came along with me. The more charitable ones would say that PSB is pansy because he was born in a year of the Goat, according to the Chinese calendar, and such people are expected to be effeminate. WWW, of course, is not very charitable, so she couldn't resist trying to prove every few minutes to PSB that he was a confused twenty-seven year old who wanted to screw the cute waiter serving us. Poor PSB stammered, stuttered, tried to flirt, was quite unsure of where he stood, and stammered again. It was quite hilarious, of course, watching from the sidelines, but then I decided to step in, because after all, I had called him myself, na?
CT: "Don't mind her, she's a witch!"
WWW, pouting: "Yes, I am."
PSB, grinning but not feeling the grin: "Hahaha, you guys are a riot! You're so funny!"
WWW, silkily: "Not half as funny as you are, da-ling!"
CT: "Hush!"
WWW: "So, what do you think of that boy there?"
PSB, flustered: "Huh? Wha-?"
WWW: "I think he's looking at the two of you."
CT, diverted now: "O, he's cute! Green shirt, long nose, but cute."
WWW, cattily: "You have a boyfriend now."
CT sighs but agrees to behave.
PSB: "I don't think he's gay, though. I have a very good gaydar."
WWW slits her eyes and purrs: "I have an excellent gaydar too, da-ling, and I know you're squirming to get in his pants right now!"
PSB stutters and sips his Coke.
Well, I did order Devilled Pork at lunch.
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