THE WICKED LIQUID
“Cava is not Champagne sir” Josephine exclaimed. The scared wine store clerk ran to change the Cava bottle he carried in his hands for a Möet & Chandon Rosé. Devoted to her French heritage, Mademoiselle Josephine has never celebrated a New Year’s Eve without a foie-gras and Champagne pairing. Who could blame her anyway? Especially this year when the hope for the beginning of 2021 deserves to be saluted with such an elevated duo. Indeed, we welcomed 2021 with this incomparable pairing, plus a full plate of German meatballs, twelve grapes and the most famous cheesecake in town - like Champagne itself, the last night of 2020 started brut, but ended with drops of happiness to welcome the hopes and dreams of 2021.
In addition to the usual end of the year craziness, I decided to embark on the adventure of moving to a new apartment during covid times. A worthwhile decision that would not only inspire me to fulfill my new year’s resolution to go on green walks in the morning in one of the biggest parks in the city, but would also keep me close to my friends. As I am sitting here, surrounded by a bunch of boxes and sipping on a remaining bottle of Champagne, I take a break to tell you a bit more on Saira's story...
Andrew and I were lucky enough to take a cab with a non-English speaking chofer who had no idea where or what the St. Regis was. Due to the lack of signal on our phones, we were forced to trust the driver, who started questioning people on the streets of Bombay, with the hopes of ending at our desired destination. After one hour and a half, we finally arrived at a majestic vertical palace. Following the Bombay security protocols inherited from the 2015 terrorist attacks at the Taj Hotel, we were bomb checked and then assigned a butler. We were installing ourselves in our suite on the 20-something floor when the receptionist called to announce the arrival of Saira. She walked in the room with her usual monsoonic energy and her skinny cigarettes in one hand bragging about how she unlocked herself and “ran” to the hotel. She asked us to be ready at once and requested a taxi to “Out of the Blue” in Bandra. On the way there, in her role of acting tour guide, Saira clarified that “Mumbai is the official name, but Bombay is the legitimate feeling” of that multifaceted city.
I was very jet lagged, which added perfectly to the fusion of the hanging lights at “Out of the Blue” and a great slice of pizza. Saira ordered a bottle of Champagne and Andrew and I were ready to hear her spills. She started by thanking us for being there and sharing the schedule for the upcoming days with our friends Marte and Henrik, who were traveling from Norway the next day. We were sightseeing in Bombay first, then going to a Villa in Goa to meet her friends Parvathi and Ramesh. After our first cheer and a few sips, she talked about the reason for the wedding cancellation, which needs no more explanation than the following...
As you may know dear reader, India has been ruled by a caste system for at least a thousand years before Christ, according to the Manusmriti book*, which "acknowledges and justifies the caste system as the basis of order and regularity of society". On this cultural note, Saira belongs to the second of the four main Indian castes: the Kshatriyas, the warriors and rulers, who allegedly come from Brahma’s arms, the Hindu God of creation. Her former fiancé, who is also our former friend now, comes from the head for Brahma and his caste is at the top of the hierarchy: the Brahmins, priests and intellectuals*. Even if the Brahmins and the Kshatriyas are only separated by the neck and shoulders of Brahma, there is a vital difference between them: the consumption of alcohol. Natural to their bellic occupation, the Kshatriyas held celebrations in their war camps that occasionally, or usually, included the indulgence of booze. Meanwhile, the Brahmins stayed at the temples dedicated to contemplation and away from the evils of the world. In the rigorous castes’ system, these should not mix, thus, five months prior to the wedding issues started to arise.
Firstly, the priest ordered that the ceremony should take place at 3.00am and the newlyweds should retire for contemplation immediately after, despite having guests traveling from three different continents eager to congratulate and celebrate with them. Secondly, even if Saira’s fiancé's family initially agreed to serve alcohol at the wedding, they changed their mind and threatened to boycott the whole thing if there was any presence of the wicked liquid. Lastly and as a cherry on the top, Saira’s fiancé asked her to call his mom and convince her that she was the right girl for him, “I believe this is your role mate” Saira responded and 24 hours later, she was announcing the cancellation of the wedding to hundreds of confirmed guests.
There wasn’t much we could do, but as I texted to her before boarding my flight to India “you can expect that during this trip we will drink industrial quantities of alcohol and have crazy and immature fun.”
To be further spilled...
Carpe Aspargo.
Myster Spills
*As informed by the BBC.