In a dramatic shift from tradition we decided not to ‘party’ last night. So we dumped the Club as an idea, forgot about a house party and said ‘no’ to friends and farms. Instead we took the Blue Door’s offer of peace, quiet and a delicious platter to heart and landed up at the Blue Door, a quaint little (well, not so little) restaurant on Street No. 45 Jubilee Hills,

On offer was a quiet, candle lit dinner for two…unlimited wines, beers and white spirits and Greek Cuisine hand rolled by that Big Greek Fellow Stephanos. The place was nice and the pace divine. The chilled night air carried forth aromas of a strung up goat and Stephanos in his never fading desire to do something special for his customers, rustled up something that the waiters began to sell as part of their ‘special’ as Wine Shots. It was later explained that the shots were wine, honey, cinnamon powder and some other herbs.

Post midnight the chairs and tables were cleared and the cozy little balcony bar made way for a makeshift dance floor. The Blue Door had made some entertainment arrangements but the two items that stood out were Miss Long Legs and Mr. Gate Crasher.

Miss Long Legs was the better looking, though I felt bad for her tiny skirt that kept creeping up on her and for the boy who was with her…he just refused to dance and after a perfunctory kiss, just plunked himself down on a chair and continued to air dance with his hands.

But hey, she had lovely legs

Mr. Gate Crasher was the comedy sequence of the evening. A true blue, bespectacled nerd, he came in alone, found a bunch of expats hanging around by the bar and then piled onto them with some rude and crude moves…the highlight of which was the loud clapping and the loud hyena like laughter. His jacket came off soon enough and his tight white shirt look gave him the afterglow of an alien in the midst of Greece.

But he danced like old time movie star Krishna

It was the first time in our lives that we didn’t manage to see and greet both the kids at the stroke of midnight and we barely met them this morning when they returned from a friend’s farm. They were too groggy to accompany us for our rather ritualistic temple visit near Golkonda but I did think they’d join us for the New Year Brunch which we normally plan.

When they said a little later that they couldn’t we changed course from Deli 9 or Ofen that we had in mind and landed up at Kamat Hotel, Next to Ravindra Bharati.

There we time warped into idlis and vadas, crisp dosas and soft, fluffy pooris. And the tamilian exclusive  ‘saathkudi’ juice.

Back home, we found the kids still asleep and skipped the afternoon beer session.

It was only now at late lunch that it struck me that a lot of traditions had been dispensed with today. Will it mean that 2014 will be vastly different from its predecessors? I don’t know…

and I can’t wait to find out!!!