We met the Sue...

Ayaan dives for cover. Dont miss his fave Crocs.

I've got the brat collared under the table. Literally. I'm holding him from pummelling Ayaan.

The two who ate their meal in peace, Parul and Sue.

Sunayana and Rohini, and Ayaan.

A rare shot, when the partners in crime were not tearing the place down.



Yup Sue, of the Bhablet fame, was down in Mumbai and what better excuse for us Mumbai mommy blogging types to plan a mommy blogging mini meet. Yup, yup, at the rate at which we're throwing mini blogging meets, I think we can now safely print mommy blogger business cards and start throwing mommy blogger conferences, with name badges and files and such like.

The venue selected after careful deliberation taking all factors into consideration, which included very valid point of the possibility of the hungry, tired, dragged straight from school brat throwing mega rolling on the floor and eardrum piercing level tantrums for daal chawal chicken kandoori or lollipok (I'm feeling terrible as I write this, because the child of my womb has now started pronouncing the above respective items of ingestion the way they are meant to be pronounced. Its only mommy dearest hanging onto the mispronounciation hoping against hope that her boy doesnt grow up too soon!), and tear the joint down. Therefore safe and sure North Indian food place Moti Mahal was selected by mamma, after bludgeoning all suggestions of places with more exotic fare on offer, knowing those would be sneered at by brat on a growling stomach.

The thought that Ayaan was going to be met with, made for extreme suspicion of mamma's intentions when Mamma decided the brat needed to go home for a quick stopover to change out of his school uniform and rolling on the floor (as much as one could roll on the car floor) tantrums later and refusal to emerge from car and take self to home in case mamma changed her mind and vamoosed off to meet Ayaan without him in tow, resulted in the ensembles being brought down to car for choice. Much in the manner of them film star types with hapless, harassed lackeys following them around as they march imperiously through sets, to changing vans, dragging piles of outfits borne on clothes stands with wheels, mamma of course, being said lackey.

A Next striped shirt in blue was chosen, and worn with absolutely unsuitable multipocketed jeans, with said shirt left untucked and full sleeves left full and unbuttoned. Luckily, the brat was keen on putting on the 'choke' button, so named because if the topmost button is too tight, he feels 'choking', but Mamma discouraged him with the valid point that he had to eat lunch and that could not be eaten with said choke button buttoned up. Finally, Mamma staggered back into car, sent rejected clothes back up and sagged into the seat, dripping with sweat thinking she'd got the equivalent of an hour's cardio getting the brat changed

We picked up Parul (more details on her blog) and Sue close to the venue, and the brat was whisperingly shy. And silent. And pulling mamma's clothes off her in an attempt to mumble a demanding and insistent "I wanfood, I wan daalchawalchicken." continually into her ear. Ayaan arrived with his mamma, Rohini, and promptly dived at his mamma's feet and clung on for dear life, refusing to emerge, overwhelmed with the oestrogen at the table, I'm sure. Both mammas bookended their respective brats into a banquette space where they assaulted each other, fought over their "redurngeef" books, the lovely paper puppets Sue had got them, flung some food around and created such a general racket that both mammas were ready to disinherit them by the end of the meal. Yup, Mamma definitely needed the two Disprins she always has handy in her wallet.

While we played referee to freestyle wrestling, protected crockery and glassware from being flung around, and listened to the brat threatening Ayaan with being packed off to Jurassic Park, the place for very naughty children, lunch was over faster than one wished. And it was time to drop Sue to the airport. We missed Sana and her mamma. But in retrospect thought it a good idea that the gentle girl was spared the onslaught of these ruffians.

And Sue, the next time you come down, pack the Bhablet in your hand luggage. You are so banned from entering Mumbai without him.