In Which I Bitch

I was at this quiet Daily Bread store in Indiaranagar the other day, debating between yummy Mediterranean Bread v/s equally yummy Garlic Bread and generally feeling happy at the sight of so many desserts, when the door opened and in walked a strong waft of VERY EXPENSIVE PERFUME. She insisted on buying only chocolate donuts as 'Maira' loved them, or so I figured from the conversation she had with VERY EXPENSIVE RAYBAN, her hunky companion.

There was only one choco dounut left, which resulted in a mini and goodnatured tantrum. At this point Rayban insisted on driving her anywhere just to get the donuts. 'Ok wait let me check with Maira,' trilled Perfume and snapped out the tiniest of mobile phones. Rayban watched worshipfully. So did all of us.

I suddenly felt a wave of nostalgia: this is so, so Delhi, I thought. I could've been standing outside Big Chill in Khan Market watching dressed-to-kill-diva throwing a tantrum on being asked to wait. Then guess what happenned? Daily Bread guy gave Rayban directions to their Church Street outlet. Perfume trilled again before wafting out: 'But where is Church Street? We're not from here. We're from Delhi. Let me ask Maira's driver.'

See how well I knew that city? I could've cried. But I laughed instead. And not because four choco donuts were already in my goodiebag.