Decadence

I’ve led a disgustingly decadent life this weekend. I awoke at 2pm on Saturday, after having spent all Friday night rubbing shoulders with Delhi’s well groomed and well heeled at the Park Hotel’s poolside cocktail bar, Aqua. I didn’t feel well enough to do anything save for making a substantial contribution to India’s economy. As a result, Prameet, John (another colleague from New York) and I began a search for exotic merchandise and artefacts. This campaign took us to Dilli Haat, a labyrinthine bazaar that honeycombed hundreds of stalls and souks together to produce a maelstrom of pashmina, artworks and other assorted treasures. I thought it appropriate to purchase all these things, along with a briefcase wrought from camel leather and hessian.

After the first dip into the inviting waters of retail expenditure, I decided to unleash the full extent of my souped-up purchasing power on a bespoke tailor a colleague had referred me to. I spent three hours (two of which were past the store’s official closing time) being smartened up by a phalanx of cloth surgeons. It was perilously fun. I became giddy from the attention and found myself being measured for things a man my age and standing just isn’t qualified to wear. Prameet was right next to me, being fitted for traditional Indian suits for his brother’s wedding. It soon got out of control. I had ordered two custom tailored three piece suits and ten shirts when I realised I needed to decelerate. I quipped to one of the tailors that I needed a break to eat. Immediately an underling was dispatched to investigate which local restaurants would be able to send food and a waiter back to the tailor’s shop.

We did manage to escape around 11pm, and the issue of dinner had yet to be resolved (despite having the food & groom service made available to us). We wanted to dine at Lodi Garden restaurant, yet another establishment floating in the clouds of severe exclusiveness. We knew the restaurant’s peculiar licensing arrangement prevented the serving of alcohol to its garden tables – and we really wanted a garden table. To overcome this, we had the driver facilitate a detour to a lounge bar that served as an important entrée to an amazing Lodi midnight dinner. The Lodi gardens are quite expansive, and we were not able to see much of them given the late hour. But we did experience enough to understand Lodi’s enchantment. Candles hung in the air like will-o'-the-wisps but were much less deceptive in their lure. The restaurant’s tables are located within the gardens – the precise co-ordinates of each known only to the waiting staff. Equally well hidden among the trees are pianos and other forms of tranquil music production that contribute to an ambience unmatchable in ethereal dining.

Interesting discoveries:

• Lodi

Administrative facts:

• Curries consumed so far: 24 – including a fiery Orissan curry from Dilli Haat

Song of the moment:

Lovely Head, by Goldfrapp.