Kishore Singh: Wine whining

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Because it was embarrassing that we'd been invited to so many Delhi Wine Club evenings by friends, I decided that in all fairness I should sign up for membership and become a bona fide, paying member of the tribe instead of remaining a freeloading journalist.

The Club's extremely active secretary was only too happy to offer a carte blanche membership sans approval, another member was kind enough to download a form and email it (saving me even that little bother), and as soon as the cheque was docked, my wife and I joined the fraternity of wine drinkers in the capital.

All this was four months ago. But sadly, in spite of the very large number of events the Club hosts, for one reason or another, we have not been able to attend any.

Sometimes there have been guests at home, other evenings I've been working late, or out of town, or perhaps we've ill-timed our own parties so we're having one at home when we should be attending another at Olive, or the French Embassy, or any of the other tony addresses the Club uses for its quaffing functions.

A day or two after each such party, the secretary of the Club efficiently sends out an email about which wine was best, and what happened during the course of the evening, and so on, which is mildly upsetting because, even though we're insiders, we feel like outsiders watching a very select group of people having fun even while we're eliminated from the proceedings.

Not that we've had too many dry evenings ourselves. Winemakers, it appears, cannot stay away from Delhi, and so on several nights, (and afternoons too), they've urged us to try chenin blancs and sauvignon blancs, chardonnays and reserves, with engaging results. All of it by way of legitimate work, reporting for this paper. (Whisky and vodka promoters are another category, but that's another story.)

"Do you think," asked my wife, getting ready to accompany me to a tasting at the Delhi Wine Society (as opposed to Club), "" as guests of the winemaker and not the Society, just for the record "" "they'll reimburse our membership fee, seeing how we haven't actually made use of it?" "I doubt it," I said.

"Maybe a discount then," suggested my wife. "Unlikely," I said, for clubs, in my admittedly frugal experience, are fine with you drinking their wines, but like to hold on to any money they can. "Maybe they'll extend the membership period," she said hopefully. "Tchah," I admonished, "let's not talk money when there's good wine to be had."

The Society evening was a success if the quantity of wine consumed was any indication, but clearly my wife had been brooding over the matter of our membership at the Club. "In all likelihood," she said, as we drove homewards, "we'll never end up attending any of its paid-up events."

I concurred, more or less. "And yet," she said, "we were able to go there when we weren't members." I told her she had a point, though I wasn't sure what it was.

"I don't either," she said, "but all I can tell you is that we went to the Wine Club when we weren't members, and have been to the Wine Society, also as non-members." "That's true," I said.

"Then," she said, "let's not renew our membership at the Wine Club." I caught her drift: "What you're suggesting is that we're better off not signing up on the dotted line." "Exactly," she agreed.

Because it makes sense, I guess we won't be queuing up any time soon to sign up for the Wine Society (of which we aren't members), or the Wine Club (of which we are, though, I suspect, we won't be for much longer).