Ms. Batlivala goes on a Fast.

It is not easy being a socialite. Mrs. Batlivala could be a case study for all the IIMs on how to multitask effortlessly.
But the last thing on her mind was IIM. To be fair to her she didn’t even know or cared what was IIM. She had a more important issue on hand. So as she carefully nursed her glass of Chablis between her thumb and forefinger, Her More menthol dangling sexily in the recess of her middle and forefinger, she absent mindedly picked up a canapé and deposited it her mouth. Then she picked up a tissue and brushed off her designer white kurta. She had avoided the cap as it would have been too obvious.That old man had made the fashion statement of the year. She wore below a ballooned white lower which resembled a dhoti quite oblivious of the fact the Mrs. Sachdeva was sniggering in the ears of Miss sexy legs, “ Looks like there was a fire in Mrs. Batlivala’s house and she wore everything she could lay a hand on.” Miss sexy leg smiled politely careful not to spoil her lipstick. She was meeting her boss in The Taj for an afternoon rendezvous.
Mrs. Batlivala wanted to pull of a quick one. She wanted to fast. It was fashionable. But she wasn’t too enamored of that old man. She wrinkled her nose disgustedly. Typical middle class. And the woman who as with him. God! What awful fashion sense. But Kejriwal. Oh he is an absolute doll. She felt her legs go weak thinking of him.
Now the reason she was getting these anxiety attacks was that she had to something fast. She searched in her bag and felt the comforting presence of Restil. Thank God for these anti anxiety pills. She had to act fast before someone else does it. Should she have an ‘Anna’ theme party or should she go on a fast.
Thirteen days. She rolled her eyes in horror. Who on earth in his right mind would do that. She liked Narendra Modi’s Idea. Nice air conditioned comfort; three day fast. short and sweet.It was like the old man was playing a five day cricket match and Modi a one day.
She was a big fan of Modi. Loved his sartorial tastes. Look at those lovely kurtas. And the white beard. One could play football on his wide chest. She felt giddy. Oh lord! Why are the handsome men either single , taken or gay? The press is comparing him with Rahul Gandhi. She dismissed it instantly. Boys will be boys and men will be men.
She reached for the wafer thin cucumber sandwich as she signaled the waiter to refill her glass. Her mind was made up. she would go for a fast. She could always decide on the cause for doing so later. But three days would be too much. She could go for a T20. Something between Lunch and Dinner so she could be in time for the evening ball . being the cynosure of all eyes.
There would be no orange juice to break the fast. It is so passé. Maybe a melon juice. Nice and sexy . or perhaps strawberry. Let me check with the bar tender if he could dish out something delightful that would go well with my white dress.
She stood up determined. There was still time to think for the cause of this fast. But a lot had to be done. Inviting the TV crew, ordering snacks for the meet the press party announcing the fast, planning on the glassware; should it be a champagne flute, tall and sexy or Paris goblet round and wholesome or a simple juice glass , deciding what to wear for the party errr fast then go for shopping. She had to buy accessories and shades. Lot of work and no one to help dear me.
“Oh lord. Is anyone as socially committed as me?”That was the last thought as she left the club.