Overheard in Mumbai

 "Your table is this way ma'am."

As my friend Sandhini and I tottered on high heels suited only for a sit down dinner towards our table at the very popular, very high ceilinged, very delicious Bastian in Mumbai, I controlled my impulse to take a video of the space. Dear readers, my control didn't last long. I snapped some quick photos of the gently rotating fans hoping that no one saw me. Mumbai is supposedly a city where no one cares what you're doing or what you're wearing and yet I find myself the most conscious and judged there. You can't look at the celebrities, you can't be dressed up, you should remain cool at all times, you can't talk about something you bought even when it's your own hard earned money and you better not be from the suburbs if you're talking to someone from South Mumbai (or vice versa). My friend had already gently chided me for wanting to go to Bastian on a Saturday night for dinner (too mainstream) but the reservations were done (and paid for) and more importantly, she's too kind to dash my Bombay dreams.  

We had a lovely table a few steps above the rest of the restaurant near the bar. We were sandwiched between a family that was only taking variations of group photos on my right and a very loud bunch of four (two guys and two girls) twenty somethings on my left. A multitude of appetisers were ordered including overpriced and unnecessary truffle shavings on an already great mushroom dish (including a whole process of shavings being weighed and added while the chef looks expectantly at us to record the drama; I succumbed). 

Since it wasn't like we hadn't had enough time together what with this being my second night in Mumbai while I was staying with Sandhini, we decided to engage in a meaningful chat. It was in the middle of this conversation that we began hearing loud voices from the table on my left. 

'Listen to me, LISTEN TO ME! N*ta and M*kes* are in an open marriage. Have you seen her? She's so hot, different guy every night.'

Well, that's something you don't expect to hear often. You hear many stories of them, their 100 carat diamond studded events are the gift that keep giving but this was a wholly new rumour. I discreetly looked at the source of this outlandish remark and saw that it was one of the young guys who said this. His rapt listeners were two girls, very gen Z in their twinkling tie up halter tops that we millennials judged Britney and Xtina for wearing. The fourth was a guy who was only immersed in his phone, not that the other three were paying him any attention. 

Sandhini and I simply smiled politely at each other sharing a glance trying not to exclaim, "WHAT?" loudly at them and tried to get back to our dinner. It's a sign of great friendship that while I was talking, I could see her attention deflecting, her body oh so slightly leaning towards her right and rather than feeling offended, I understood at once. I too was feeling intrigued. Other diners and the waitstaff may have been baffled looking at us sitting quietly and eating (not taking any photos of the food) but if they looked closer, they would see that our eyes were darting left and right and towards each other, our not yet Botoxed eyebrows moving wildly, our hair thrown behind so that no obstruction could cover our ears. However, we soon felt that our efforts were in vain, there was no more scandalous conversation to be overheard. Back to the regularly programmed discussion on manifestation (does it work?) and gluten free options (chickpea pasta) when - 

"And then because I had spoken to Amit uncle, I know the whole fam, the entire movie was changed!"

It was the same guy again - let's call him Ken. He certainly seemed deeply entrenched in Mumbai. I couldn't help glancing and boom, eye contact. I gave him a bright smile and said "Hi, are you from Bombay?" He smiled back and responded "No, I am from Delhi."

Of course. 

We bid them a great night and got back to quietly discussing nightly liaisons of Indian business families and Bollywood trivia. 

"I spent my whole life thinking that my nani was dead. She's alive. My mother told me this two weeks ago."

That was it. It was decided then that we could talk later, our focus was going to be on this table next to us. How were we supposed to get back to our own lives after that when Ken has had a much more interesting life than anyone I've ever met? I've never been more grateful that two of our friends cancelled on us, not only because we could successfully eavesdrop but also because we had a great story to tell and they missed it. 

Ken proceeded to tell the girls (the phone guy - Woody was still checked out), "My grandparents...they're alive but they're dead, you know?"

I did not know and I could tell that Sandhini as wide eyed as she was, didn't either. I guess in his defence, his mother had lied to him for years. 

"My mother wishes I was dead. They don't accept me because I'm gay, they just don't!"

Finally, one of the girls - Barbie chimes in, "But Ken, we love you!"

"Barbie, you won't get it, you just won't." 

"Ken, I'm a girl, you think it's easy for daughters ? It's not!"

Ah, the age old debate of being a gay man or a straight woman which can go on till the lesbians/transgender come home (or anyone who isn't a straight man). It seems that Ken isn't in Barbie's world and life is far from fantastic. 

The night seemed to have taken a turn for the deeply philosophical. Hell, they didn't even have their free shots, something Sandhini and I were really hoping that they'd do. Lost in this debate and wondering who has it harder (pun not intended) when - 

"Woody, why don't you and Sally just get married? I can party then." 

The Kenergy was back, ignoring Barbie and encouraging love shrouded in his more eager desire to party. Sally had been serenely smiling this whole time, absorbing Ken and Barbie's conversation while Woody much like his moniker stiffly glanced from his phone, smirked and asked for the cheque. 

They left soon after and an unfamiliar silence descended during which Sandhini and tried to consolidate our thoughts into a coherent sentences. Our friendship was strengthened and restored in the only that being a witness to a completely random, hilarious, shocking and scandalous incident can. They were the Barbie here, we were the Ken. 

Only when Delhi folks are in Mumbai.