Mumbai se aayi ek dost

Some people bring out their best china when company’s expected. Others fill the house with fresh flowers and arrange potpourri in the bathroom.

Mom decided mumbaigirl would be most impressed when she visited if I took a bath.

“She’s coming all the way to meet you, Terri,” justified mom, tying me to the front gate and pouring slimy neem-based shampoo on my back.

“Friend coming over aa? What friend?” grandma wanted to know.

“Just someone I know,” replied mom vaguely.

“How do you know this person?” persisted grandma.

“Amma met her online,” offered the kids helpfully.

“No, it’s not Lakshmi,” said mom quickly, anticipating the next question. “It’s someone called mumbaigirl.”

“Oh, mumbaigirl, aa?" said maternal and paternal grandma together. "I’ve seen her name online.”

“Yikes!” panicked mom, wondering if she should ask mg to meet her at the closest Coffee Day instead.

“She writes well,” one of them said. Whew! (They probably hadn’t read her period post – one that reeled me in and made me an avowed fan.)

I looked no different after my bath (I never do), and mg doesn’t seem like the kind of person who cares much for canine good looks, but I greeted her politely when she arrived. She had travelled a great distance to meet me, subjecting herself to the chaotic Chennai traffic and searing heat.

Since most people who visit us fall in the 55+ age group, it was most refreshing to meet someone who was born in the same decade as mom.

As fair-skinned as the white salwar she was wearing, petite mg, who is blessed with a waist that can be cupped in one hand, arrived to a flurry of activity in the kitchen. Both grandmas, unmindful of the humidity, were busy preparing a feast for Lord Krishna’s birthday.

“No, you can’t touch,” said grandma, slapping away mom’s hand from a hot vadai. “You’ll have to wait until the puja’s done.” Since she couldn’t stay that long, mg was treated to the next best thing – Grand Snacks and Sweets fare, along with sugarless tea (at her insistence).

Mom asked after the London bloggers, a group of women she’s most envious of, since they seem to have forged a bond and a support system. “You should’ve moved to London,” said mg, a tempting proposition, given that mom is ready to jump on the next jet plane to the closest lizard-free land.

Much to mom's relief, mg's visit ended without the children misbehaving. The five-year-old is usually at her worst self when she has an audience, and our visitor was spared awkward questions, such as the one directed at the landlady the other day, “Paati, why do you have so many holes in your mouth?”

It was while the family was seated at dinner a few hours later and licking the last of moru kozhambu off their plates that grandma made reference to mg's remark about her aunt fasting until midnight in honor of Lord Krishna.

“Look at these north Indians,” remarked grandma. “They’re so strict about observing their fast. All we do is feast.”

Mom silently thanked the gods as she stuffed another homemade appam in her mouth and picked crumbs of rava laddu off her plate.