Diamonds,
Bears &
Flying Pigs

"The time has come," the Walrus said,
"To talk of many things:
Of shoes-and ships-and sealing wax-
Of cabbages-and kings-
And why the sea is boiling hot-
And whether pigs have wings."
-Lewis Carroll

Mostly everyone would agree that Rs 50 for a solitary glass of cold coffee and ice-cream in the 1990s was a rip-off. But who can prevent the extravagance of youth? And at 13, we saw the world through starry eyes...

A group of five giggling girls entered the gates of the majestic Vasant Continental Hotel in Vasant Vihar, New Delhi. We had no business being there save the fact that we had some money to spend and we needed an avenue for it.

Naturally, we were not in our school uniforms. We had stuffed them into our schoolbags amidst all the other knickknacks that young girls generally carry. A kindly old shopkeeper at the Vasant Vihar market had agreed to stow them away until we returned.

I don't recall it being a special occasion; just the usual girl-girl hangouts we did every couple of months. We were looking for adventure, something to spice up the boring summer afternoon after school, and it was too hot to do anything else. So cold coffee with ice-cream seemed the perfect excursion.

We walked in with confidence and climbed the flight of steps to the restaurant. A magnificent décor, sparkling china and the maître d'hôtel greeted us. We were then seated at a table for five. An expensive restaurant such as this naturally boasts of excellent service and we were provided a sampling of this instantly with three waiters buzzing around.

It is a little unheard of to be waited on by three waiters at one time; however, five 13-year-olds all by themselves in a five-star restaurant were not exactly commonplace either.

The waiters seemed puzzled by us. But their fine training did not allow them to display their anxieties. We concocted a grand conversation to keep them guessing and ourselves amused. You have to wonder at our imagination!

"I told you na, I was going to buy a gold bracelet for her. What about you?"

"Arrey, I've decided... Papa will give me Rs 1,000 and I will go get her a pretty dress."

"Yeah, your gifts are very nice yaar. But I'm going to get her a diamond bear."

"Excellent idea!"

"Chalo, it's decided then? We'll go to Aanchal's birthday in America this Saturday."

Having watched cartoons for a major part of our lives, we could almost see the clouds on the top of the waiters' heads fill with visions of heavy bags of coins. Naturally, our conversation was as true as flying pigs, but our bold exclamations had us laughing hard and glowing with pride at our wittiness.

Next, we decided to examine the contents of the butter dish. Not finding it very interesting, we carefully folded and refolded our napkins into the beautiful swan shape they were originally in.

I amused everyone by making paper sofas as I had learnt from my Origami books (I'll have you know that to this day I make excellent paper sofas). Yes, the waiters were watching our every move, but did we care?

We then pounced on the sugar cubes. Without a doubt, little girls find little things delightful and the tiny cubed sugars were a sight for sore eyes. We carefully unwrapped them and discussed aloud the scientific processes involved in 'cubefying' sugar.

We were quite educated in the matter, but we were hoping for an explanation from our waiters. None was forthcoming, regrettably. A few cubes landed in our mouths while a few more landed in our pockets, albeit discreetly.

"Your bill."

Well, the waiters expected us to pay our bills and we were not going to be seen as mere children out of their element. So we reassumed our airs and once again confirmed our plans to fly down to America for our dear, non-existent friend's birthday.

We paid up with a twinge of guilt at having blown up our allowances. But the world was a grand place for us and we were not going to let a mere 50 bucks ruin the day.

On our way out, we proceeded into the bathrooms to admire the light fixtures and the tiny tissue packets -- and of course, quite a few tissues found their way into our pockets.

All in all, the day was a success. We had spent our money on a memory that years down the road would bring unrestrained joy. We walked out of the hotel beaming. The only thing left to do was to get our bags from the old shopkeeper in the market.

A decade on, Kavita Jari owns a flying pig. Really.

Illustration: Lynette Menezes

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