When the city was under siege during the November of 2008, with a curfew of 72 hours, our home in Worli was dealing with a problem of a different kind. Several people had arrived to bid adieu to an uncle, a police officer, who had fallen to the bullets fired by now hanged Pakistani terrorist Ajmal Kasab. It was neither the first and nor will it be the last funeral the family has seen. And yet, as my family relives the day, sometimes with pride and sometimes with the unending hollow of the bereaved, a conversation addressing the reality here — death — is missing. It's almost dealt with as a stray incident.

Entering the two-storeyed structure at Lower Parel that houses Savor Dining Room, vampire Edward Cullen whispers in my mind: "What did you expect? Coffins and dungeons and moats?" Not the moats, I tell him. The dimly-lit room feels warm. The dining table is adorned with a dozen candles, an eerie calm occupies the room just before other guests begin to show up.