Drinks later ? Sorry.

“ Come home for lunch. Ghar ka khana. Mom will be cooking.”



That is a line I haven’t heard in a long time. Ive lived in Gujarat, Bengal, Nasik and Pune, Calcutta, Goa, Bangalore, and wherenotwhat.



Ive had friends’ mothers , classmates’ mothers, teachers, professors, who given me this line. Ive had friends who have asked me over that we would have good conversation and the culinary ravages. I have had my aunts and that age group who ask me over to try out their latest culinary conquests . My professor would ever so often catch me bunking class and sternly tell me, “Ive been hearing no complains about you recently. Please come have dinner tonight. We need to talk.” My juniors and classmates would say, “ Sajani, whatever job you are doing, is paying you enough to take a flight down to Gujarat. If you make us cha, we can make you Maggi. Please come back home, na . Come Now. No, come sooner."



And at various student establishments in Delhi, we have had t he maximum fun is when we are faced with out incapability’s in the kitchen department. That is when we eat out of the foil bowls and cardboard boxes.

We watch a movie. We talk. I haven’t had a pillow fight in long time…. We have a marvelous siesta after. This activity can take place at the dining table with the parents… or on the terrace. It moves through the house…. Pauses in the balcony. The music changes in the background, and as we are long lost , but fast friends, We discover and re establish a level of intimacy with progressing levels of insanity.. but it always starts in the kitchen, and ends when the dirty dishes pile up.



Come home.

That’s how they say it in my age and stage of life.



It was during one of my mad tours of the western and the Southern part of the country that I realized that I missed this. I was invited by old friends. By people who I had just met (work based meetings etc). By people who I didn’t know all , but we realized that we were humans. And we have human needs. I have been invited my people old enough to be my mother, who order me to “come home and have a decent meal, girl.” And my people my age who offer “just about the basics, but slow down and get comfortable in my pad ”.



Kartik had said: “Come home. Lets have daal bhaat lunch. Say hello to my mom. Then we shall head out.”

Quirky said:” come oOOOn!!!! You HAVE to see my bookshelf, at least!”

A woman who was doing my research for me : “ next time you are in Bangalore, come ok, have idli. You can bring your friends also. You all such young girls… live away from home….come have one good meal at my house.”



There is a subtle, yet very strong message. Come home for lunch.



Somehow, I haven’t heard that line in a long time. People in Delhi/ Gurgaon always tend to “ grab a drink later in the evening”.

Its good. We have great music playing loudly in the background. And we all leave a cocktail wiser, a more mature scotch, a slightly buzzing martini and the beer who played safe.

And it makes no difference to a 30-something older thing to be drinking with a 20-something girl. Or Vice versa.



Somehow, I like my drink. I cherish each shade in my wine. And I love nursing a scotch over a story book under my lamp… in the comfort of my solitarity ( its not incorrect English. It how I wanted to use that word). I love having my whiskey with who I like to share my whiskey with. I love beer and oranges in the winter sun. I respect my drink even if it is hot chocolate. And I hold my own respect too. I wouldn’t mind sitting with you on the pavement and having cha, but I wont meet you later for a drink in the fancy bar.



Dear Delhi, I’m sorry. I cant do drinks later in the evening. Its not just a weeknight, but you see, it not appropriate for a girl like me to drink with a person like you.