Kishore Singh: Not so haute

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I love fashion shows," said my wife, "do you think Aishwarya Rai might be there in her pink Satya Paul saree?" "I think not," I said, "because it isn't that kind of fashion show. In fact," I added, "it isn't a fashion show at all."

"Oh," said my wife disappointed, "is it one of those exhibitions where you must buy clothes from some impoverished organisation working for the welfare of children in the slums?"

"No," I hastened to explain, "it has nothing to do with clothes, though I've been told that Shobhaa De will be wearing a saree that has been designed by Satya Paul." "What a strange show," said my wife, "that has only one model."

"Shobhaa De isn't a model, though she used to be one," I reminded her, "she's now a serious person or, at least what we in Delhi would call a socialite." "But what's she doing in Delhi" asked my wife, "for isn't she a native of Mumbai?"

"She is," I concurred, "though she likes to come often to Delhi to remind us that we're just hobo residents of an overgrown village." "Is that what she's here for," asked my wife, "to talk down to us?". "Well, actually," I said, "she's only part of an art show on food."

I explained how Sharan Apparao was having a show at Haveli, the restaurant that artist Anjolie Ela Menon had painted when it was first set up, and which was now hosting a show of artists that was devoted to food.

"Do you mean," said my wife, "there are going to be artists who will paint on food?" "No, no," I hastened to explain, as we drove up, "the artists will paint food on canvases."

"So," said my wife, "we're going somewhere where there will be a fashion show that isn't, and food that also isn't." "Not quite the way I would put it," I explained, "because there is also going to food that is named in honour of the artists who are exhibiting at the show."

"This is very confusing," said my wife as we arrived at the party, "can we at least eat the food?" "Yes, of course," I said, and you can buy the paintings too if you like."

At the party, we admired the paintings, and said hello to the guests we knew, and nodded to some others we didn't, and my wife had chicken tikkas that were named for the painter K H Ara, and said Bulbul's bondas weren't very nice, and I said to shut up in case Bulbul Sharma was around and got offended, even though I had not seen her so far. Anjolie Ela Menon was there, though we did not get to Anjolie's prawns because they were waylaid en route, and Husain's gilouti kebabs remained as unattainable as his canvases.

We did have Farhan's paneer tikkas out of deference for the artist who was standing beside us, even though we aren't fond of paneer, but it seemed the spicy potatoes named after Kanchan Chander were either a big hit, or had simply disappeared, so the artist was left holding a glass of wine even as she wondered what had happened to Kanchan's aloos.

After some time, Shobhaa De arrived, and she was wearing a Satya Paul saree with some chillies on it, and she said that this was going to be Delhi's most hot party for the season "" though she might have meant haute "" and everyone agreed that she couldn't have implied there were going to be no more parties in the capital.

And afterwards my wife said, "Even though I'm confused whether we went to a party or an exhibition or a fashion show, I think I had a good time."