'Slap Him, He's French!'

'Slap Him, He's French!'

Natureboy is standing opposite the Lion Gate at Kaala Ghoda, and I'm panting as I reach him. Of course I'm late.

Closetalk: "Terribly sorry. Had to stop off at the Taj for some work. Shall we walk it then? Not too far away."

Natureboy, absentmindedly: "Aaa, it's ok. Was standing and cruising a very cute specimen here while waiting for you."

CT, whirling around, but we're already quite some distance away from where we met: "Where, where?"

Natureboy, chuckling: "O, he's gone now, I think. Very cute. I was looking at him while chatting on the phone with you, and then he looked back, and when I walked ahead and turned around, he'd turned too."

CT, sighing: "Bad luck he cruised on ya now - anyway, maybe he'll be there at the concert. He may like French."



Natureboy shrugs. We're on our way to the latest installement of the Kaala Ghoda Arts Festival, and a French rock band named Merzhin will be performing at the *cue to laugh* Horniman Circle. Twenty minutes later, Natureboy and I are in the thick of a noisy concert, surrounded by a mix of corporate executives and runty collegians, all head banging away to glory.

Natureboy, shaking head: "Ummm.. did you know it was going to be this... loud?"

CT, shrugging: "Well, it is a rock concert. But... no. I didn't. Are we just getting older, or are other people getting younger?"

Natureboy screws up his face now, and makes me promise to leave after the next song. The next song starts and finishes, and just when I think we should be heading back, Natureboy brightens when the guitars and the pipes start again, and says, "O, this sounds much better now. Let's stay for this song."

So the song is actually quite fun, and then I spy this paan-vendor type some way ahead going wild at the group with his hands in the air and all, and I nudge Natureboy: "Think he knows French?"



But my companion screws up his face again, and pronounces a "O dear" when a college kid a little way off screams bloodcurdlingly. While he gazes at the girl in wonder, I groan and say, "I would never act this demented for anyone - except maybe Madonna and Kylie. But only those two. "

The cute frizzy haired frontman for the band announces that they're gonna do a loo-oove song, and the crowd goes crazy again. On cue, a relic from the 70s whips out a lighter, which lasts about ten seconds before it goes off. I'm sniggering, but also enjoying the song. Strange.

Meanwhilel, Natureboy is gazing at a gang of French teenagers who're going wild at the songs, and he's quite intent on the three boys in the group. I follow his line of vision, and wonder aloud, "Do you think they're gay?" as they start dancing with each other. Natureboy sighs, and says, "Naaa, they're French."

Closetalk giggles, but assents.