Sharara Sharara

I HAD arrived on the Pune social register. Didn8217;t matter if this grand do was in the afternoon, or that I was hanging out with 35-year-...

I HAD arrived on the Pune social register. Didn8217;t matter if this grand do was in the afternoon, or that I was hanging out with 35-year-old married women and dancing to Big B numbers instead of chugging beer and listening to Sweet Home Alabama. After all, everyone who was anyone in Pune had made it to this pre-Karva Chauth bash organised by Social Butterflies.

But banish all images of tear-glistening scenes from classic Yash Chopra films8212;no red finery, antakshari, hubbies or moony melodrama. Two days in advance, the ladies feasted, to make up for the impending fast. Other images included naughty jokes, sexual innuendos, and thudding on the dance floor, with the only bit of sentiment being the sincere tribute to Big B!

How did I get here? It started out as a joke, I think8212;a bad one. Set the fashion-challenged one amidst the trendsetters. Whatever the reason, I saw myself dressed in a snazzy green salwar, bangles, heels, complimentary pass in hand, outside the Regal Room at Le Meridien. Where my first impulse was to flee.

I stuck around, though. Even though I was sticking out like a sore thumb in the midst of jazzy blues, designer halters, chunky jewellery, and overpowering perfumes.

8216;8216;A little too dhickchak, isn8217;t she,8217;8217; I overheard a bright vermillion tell a light maroon. Both glancing sideways at a gold sharara and diamonds. My journey had began. It wasn8217;t going to be so bad, I thought. After all, I had spent two years in a hostel and gossip and bitching were part of growing up.

I didn8217;t have much time to introspect about wonder years though, as I got pushed along in the queue for bangles. I pretended to be discerning about colours and I think I succeeded because my neighbour said, 8216;8216;You picked some beautiful maroon bangles.8217;8217; Or was it just a polite one-liner?

What brightened the spirits, however, were the Big B film numbers, and the opening of the dance floor. This afternoon was a celebration of Big B8217;s birthday. The main focus8212;praying for the longevity of husbands8212;seemed merely incidental. 8216;8216;I grew up getting entertained by Amitabh,8217;8217; crooned Reshma, one of the hosts. I felt quite warm towards her8212;I loved Amitabh too. But, these ladies beat me to it. They knew all his numbers, grooved exactly like him, the lady in white not only sang like him8212;she even had his height.

The dance floor creaked as curves, tyres and bulges moved. They did Rang Barse with chunaries and went hoarse singing Jahaan Teri Ye Nazar Hai with fresh mehendi on their hands. I was enjoying this immensely.

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It was the game of Truth and Dare that actually got me embarrassed. And, I wasn8217;t even participating. Pole dancing. That was the dare. I just didn8217;t expect someone to take that up. Considering, the pole was another lady.

Well, these 40-somethings are darn sporty. Preeti, very pretty in a pink sari performed gorgeously to little squeals, laughs, roars and whistles. The pole turned pink but stuck to her job.

Which inspired a round of naughty jokes, that had a lot of poles and some holes in them. Mothers-in-law were teased and husbands seduced with imagination and castigated, children given valuable lessons on the birds and the bees8212;all by mehendi and bangle-laden mummies.

Social Butterflies came up with the concept five years ago. 8216;8216;At least this way we can start looking forward to Karva Chauth,8217;8217; they reason. For me it was an epiphany. I had been enlightened on the source of Shobhaa De8217;s writing material.