It was a long-deserved break for us. Father needed to get out of the house, Small Cat was better and could be left for a day and Nina was raring to go, as she normally is most of the time. As for me, between vertigo, low blood sugar and cabin fever, a day with the family was more than welcome. And, after some work meetings, assorted other errands and some degree of coordination, we all managed to meet, greet and, of course, eat.
The restaurant we chose for our day out was one of the newest on Mumbai’s haute and happening dining scene. Called Flamboyante, or something that sounded like that though it may have been spelled otherwise, it was an indoor-outdoor experience which, in other words, meant that half of it was in a courtyard open to the sky but sheltered under capacious overhead draping. People seemed to know where it was located in the vast and confusing shopping centre it called home, so we had to do no more than trot in the direction various security personnel suggested. And, finally, after a considerable amount of the aforementioned trotting, we got there, somewhat out of breath but undaunted and eager to get to the food.
Inside was not to be mentioned, since we wanted fresh air and space for mind-wandering. It was cool enough to be comfortable without air-conditioning. We chose a table strategically placed where we could look into the courtyard but were out of range of possible rain. Heels clicking on the wooden floor, we were led to our table, a fan positioned and switched on and solicitous waiters hovered, beaming broad smiles and whiffs of stress-sweat under synthetic shirts. Demanding water and the menus, I headed out to find the loo – that in itself was a fun trek; you had to walk halfway across the enormous complex to a door that was unlocked by a woman (or a man) wearing a special uniform and a cheerful mien. Sparkling clean facilities belied the damp heat and unmentionable smells just outside, where cleanliness was clearly very far removed from any trace of godliness.
Having made my expedition complete back at the table, I found Nina and Father sipping beer and telling funny stories, grinning at me in a way that made me sure that the tales were scurrilously about me. And I was right, as I usually am in these cases, knowing full well that whatever information had been divulged would be held against me regularly and at frequent intervals. I tried to glower, but faded gently into the background with my fancily named lemon slush as the buzz of conversation enveloped me in a gentle fug.
We ordered, the sweet little waiter-man not quite sure of his English and fumbling rather with everything from his semi-colons to his rendition of ‘spinach’. I beamed at him, which – Father and Nina continued with their scurrilousness – made him forget even more of his scanty language skills and we worried considerably about the order even after he carefully and painfully repeated it to us. Finally, with a collective sigh of relief, he trotted off kitchen-wards and left us to chat and speculate about what would eventually ensue on the table for our meal.
But it was fine. The food was not at all bad, good in parts and decent in all others, and served up hot and fresh. We started with spring rolls, sticky rice dim sums and tiny cannonballs of chicken something and progressed gradually through vegetable laced noodles, steaming hot fish in ginger wine, crispy-spicy lamb and a generous garden-full of crackling spinach. Then having loosened our waistbands a trifle, we segued into chocolate flan for me, mocha fudge and ice cream for Father and a large cup of espresso floating a neat ball of ice cream for Nina. Replete, we sat back, burped delicately and wondered what to do next, or whether we could do anything at all, considering the amount of food we had just gone through…or that had gone into us.
More than food, it was the fact that we were together after too long, laughing, talking, eating and not watching the whats, whos and hows in the course of the afternoon. I wish, for all of us, there will be more such days, where warmth, good food and happy company was all ours.
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