When fumes merge with fog on the streets of Delhi, when the sun disappears with an apology of warmth, that's when Ramola Bachchan appears in the city. "In the 8-10 days that I've been here, I've been invited to two lunches and two dinners every day," drawls one of London's best-known social butterflies of Asian pedigree. The other daughter-in-law in Hindi filmdom's first family, this Bachchan makes regular business trips to India. But in winter, it's "vacation time for me".

Ramola is in the big league. For those like her, time in Delhi or Mumbai is for family and friends, meeting people whom she may host in turn at her celebrated parties in London, though the spate of extortion threats in the past year has meant that parties in India are discussed in whispers. Even lower down the scale, there is a large element of quid pro quo hosting ("you call me for your Christmas bash here, I'll invite you to my Diwali do there", with expenses picked up at either end). While such talk is publicly pooh-poohed by most, privately it's raging to the point of irritation. Ajay Manchanda -- based in Geneva, on vacation in Delhi -- concedes that "a number of people land up there and expect to be given the same waited-upon-hand-and-foot treatment which is not possible for us".

Look, don't touch

Tanzy daarling, is my exclusive designer, ethnic innerwear ready for fitting-witting?

But for thousands of others -- from the UK, US, Hong Kong and elsewhere -- winter in India is party time. "It's a global homecoming of sorts for me," says Mumbai socialite Kishen Mulchandani, who thinks city parties aren't a patch on the ones thrown by NRIs. This is when the year-round trickle swells into a flood as the marriage and festive season perks up the country's social capitals, and the overseas fraternity drops in to shop, party hop, matchmake for their offspring or get a dose of family.

This lot isn't just the recent export. They are mostly second-and third-generation NRI offspring of traders and businessmen who show up with mom and dad or just by themselves -- usually Sindhis and Gujaratis in Mumbai, Punjabis and Marwaris in Delhi, and the home crowd in from Kuala Lumpur or Singapore in Chennai. "It's damn good for all of us," chuckles couturier Rohit Bal who describes many of his NRI clients -- mostly Sindhis and Gujaratis -- as "babies who come to me with an open mind". Visitors include those who don't mentally convert rupees into dollars before they buy, and if they do, end up mildly amused by the exercise. Jaya Panjabi, a Mumbai designer, who charges her NRI clients Rs 20,000 (less than $500, piffle for the pardesi) for an "ethnic outfit", sighs in a wild flirtation with political incorrectness: "I have to drastically change my tastes for them." Tarun Tahiliani, a favourite, points out that the youngsters are of two kinds: the chic crowd, and those who "have this notion of what is traditionally Indian, and so want to regress 30 years". The season is so good for him that he goes so far as to say: "We could do as much business in the December-February period, as we do in the entire year."

The rich pickings extend to saris, especially Kanjeevarams, and pseudo antiques -- Kathiawari-style wooden doors, ultra-traditional furniture. Shops in Mumbai like Sheetal, Ensemble, Kaysons, Golden Leaf and the Oberoi arcade, and Delhi's Kalpana, Khazana at the two Taj hotels and Mohanlal & Sons do huge NRI business. Apart from shopping, seeing and being seen is a major rite. "You're here for weddings and since you hang around among your own circle, you invariably get invited to all the other weddings," says Simi Jhaveri, in Mumbai from LA.

The more the better, especially if matchmaking is on the mind. Neeraj Chaudhary, for instance, has been to three weddings in the last 10 days. Tall, handsome, 30 and single, he has visited Mumbai from Hong Kong every year for seven years to "check out the scene". He's still checking. This year the dapper dresser has spent his time hopping from weddings to watering holes like Geoffrey's, the NRI hot spot. "Everyone hangs out at these places every night ... waiting," he says wryly. People like him will. He doesn't want a bride, he wants Helen of Troy. "Tall, sexy, sporty, good family, should come highly recommended."

A salon owner in Mumbai cackles and rattles off a less-than-flattering description of his quintessential NRI clients. "Blonde hair, Cartier watch, dripping with diamonds." They love "popping vitamin pills and discussing nutrition". And they "love trying to get in touch with some designer or the other on the mobile". For an evening of Fosters and vodka-tonics at Geoffrey's or at Djinns in Delhi, NRI women are resplendent in Prada and Ferragamo, with Gucci trimmings and the regimental diamond solitaire earrings. These bleached, waxed, well-manicured overseas belles inspire envy, loathing or lust among Mumbaikars and Dilliwallahs.

Either way, it's an uneasy relationship. Where an NRI tends to hang around with another NRI and the RI with RI, both watching with mutual interest -- and disdain. "In the '80s," says Niranjan Sharma, a former nri groupie, "we thought they knew everything. Now youngsters travel abroad more often and they don't think NRIs are superior to them. In fact, the tables have turned." It's come to such a head that some NRIs like Jhaveri actively insist that she's not the "typical NRI", the kind that "think no end of themselves ... love going to the races, wearing branded stuff". Next year, the homecoming might be even harder to handle.

(Some names have been changed on request.)

-- Priya Ramani and Anna M M Vetticad