Bollywood - what else?

Having been in the biz for as long as I have, what can i say?? The only two Bollywood columnists worth reading at present are Vikram Bhatt and Nishi Prem. I have arrived at this stupendous conclusion after much 'soul searching'. Ha ha. Like this subject needs it! Why waste soul searching on something as frivolous?? But given my Grandma Moses STATUS , I can afford to sit on the mountain top and pass sweeping judgement. Bhatt's Asian Age columns are written from inside the savage circus we call Bollywood. Nishi is one of the earliest players, and in her own way, an insider too. Her Cine Blitz editorials are gutsy and honest - no fake pr-giri, no sucking up, no taking sides. And sizzling writing to boot. She sizes up stars,icons, fakes, pretenders and all the riff raff populating Bollywood, in an engaging, upfront tone. Bhatt's take is readable, candid and self deprecatory , like the best column writing generally is. Between them, they have the real story all wrapped up. In an era of nauseating manipulation (Aamir is the asli master of the game), when stars court journos just before a big release, and shameless journos go running to gobble the scraps thrown their way, these two bylines stand out for spunk and style..... substance , too.
Such a pity, there is no wit left in film journalism any more. Considering the number of jokers floating around these days.

Ledger keeping

Heath. Heath. Heath. Heath. Heath. Heath... I am breathless!! What a performance! What a movie! Batman didn't stand a chance against the Joker. The Dark Knight is one of the most thought provoking movies I have ever seen - a cinematic poem on morals, ethics, violence, greed, compromise. And Heath's Joker is perhaps as iconic a movie character as Brando's Godfather. Years and years down the line, there will be others striving hard to match up to the intelligence and timing of the late actor, who brought a rare black humour to his interpretation of the role that was synonymous with Jack Nicholson all this while. While Jack played it broadly with an evil glint in his eyes, he still remained quintessentially Jack. Ledger's Joker is far edgier, more manic and epitomises the evil lurking within all of us.
I came home shaken and stirred. Since sleep was not an option, I decided to write (the world's best therapy!). I was on my laptop when the mild earthquake (4.5 on the Richter scale) that had its epicentre in Koyna made my chair wobble. I thought I could sense the Joker's presence at my elbow.... and shuddered. The large Art Deco lamp above my head started to sway. I got spooked but carried on writing, challenging the imaginary Joker to scare\threaten me further. It was well past 2 a.m. when I finally retired. The Joker was licking his lips and laughing. At me. At all of us. He was not in Gotham.The Joker was in fact, in Surat. And heading Mumbai -wards. We have been warned. Are we ready for him??

monsoon bedding

It is so gloomy and dismal outside, the sensible thing to do is stay in bed and listen to Saigal. I hate Saigal and his nasal whinge... blame it on lousy recording standards, but Saigal makes Himesh sound good. So, why do I listen to Saigal in this awful weather? The rain arouses the masochist in me. I eat the wrong food, wear the wrong clothes, argue with myself (pointless!) and endure Saigal's nasal singing as he urges some wretched rajkumari to go to sleep. No rajkumari in her right mind could possible sleep if the lullaby is this awful. Saigal purists may want to slaughter me for this, but heck, a gal's gotta do what a gal's gotta do - trash a lousy singer whose parents forgot to remove his adenoids.
From Saigal to terrorism in one easy swoop may be a recipe for disaster, but then not all of you have to deal with seriously terrible weather, and bad news on the telly round-the-clock. I have received impassioned responses to my last blog. Which means I am not alone in feeling the way I do. The miracle of the moment is the remarkable restraint shown by the people of Ahemedabad... and let's acknowledge that.Given the level of provocation,it is to their credit there was no talk of retaliation or retribution. Allah be praised. Jai Shri Krishna.The only high point of the slow weekend was a movie called 'No shortcut to happiness.' Despite the lousy reviews, I liked it (in bits).Anthony Hopkins and Alec Baldwin ? How bad can they be?? This was followed by dinner at 'Olive' - the new one at the race course. My heart went out to the horses in adjoining stables.Imagine having to put up with rowdy humans trying a bit too hard to appear hip and cool.The food was pricey and called Italian. Shall we take the chef's word for it and not tell the Italians???

terror

I couldn't bear to read the papers this morning. Nor watch television. Gulping tea became a major effort. It was the picture on the front page of the Times of India that completely destroyed me.Two fruitsellers lay dead near their cart in Ahemedabad. Innocent victims of yet another senseless terrorist attack on civilians.Bangalore was reeling. Now it was Ahemedabad. I fear it may be Pune next - only because it is yet another city that is rapidly growing and attracting world professionals to its IT hub. Theories in retrospect are all very well - that it is the BJP states being targeted etc. But where were our intelligence agencies all this while? Such attacks require meticulous planning. They don't happen spontaneously. It is an amazing failure on the part of the counter terrorist cells that massive strikes in two big cities , took place with such ease. It is always the poor who pay the price - as those defenceless fruitsellers did. Nothing ever happens to the powerful and wealthy. And one wonders at the perversity\cruelty of those devils who strike against harmless, ordinary folk, who have nothing to do with jihads. God rest their souls in peace.
Ironically enough, the same paper carried stories on pole dancing as the latest ftness routine.And the juxta positioning of the reports made the absurdity of our existence that much more ludicrous. The gloomy weather added to the overall depression.I cannot get the image of the dead fruitsellers out of my mind. I feel helpless. I feel enraged. I feel sad. Even more scarily, I feel like hitting back - this is an alien, entirely new response to terror in our midst. And it disturbs me. I am a non-violent person. I can't deal with these stirrings within my heart. They make me feel no better than 'them' - the faceless cowards doing this to 'us'.God help me. And others like me - peace loving individuals pushed to the brink and saying, ''We've had enough." Tell me - are my current emotions understandable? Are you also similarly driven by a sense of revulsion, rage and revenge? How do you cope? I am entirely thrown.... disoriented.... miserable

Sindhi Kadi

As I write these words, a delicious aroma is wafting from the kitchen towards me. Our cook, the forever cheerful Anil, is busy stirring the dekchi. I take his word for it that what he calls 'Sindhi Kadi'with such confidence, is indeed the genuine article. Anil is a Bong, like my husband. I am a ghati. And the 'kadi' is supposedly 'Sindhi' (wonder if it's the same stuff L.K. Advani eats at his home??). Well... we love Anil's version, even if it does feature an over abundance of 'gowar' - those nasty beans, more bitter than anything else. Purists eat the 'Kadi' with sweet boondi rice - a rather startling but delicious combo. I prefer to soak Punjabi atta chappatis into a katori full of piping hot 'kadi' (I have to see the steam!). This makes a complete and entirely satisfying meal on a monsoon night. My other dinner option was fancier but also far more strenuous. It was an invitation to a formal dinner party hosted by a prominent lady banker in honour of visiting Harvard professors. Too much intellect in too short a span of time. My appetite died an instant death. I 'd like to think I made the right choice by staying home and enjoying the 'kadi'. Yup. I ditched. But what the hell - is anybody really missed on these occasions? Naah!
I tried for tickets to the latest Batman movie (beyond brilliant, I'm told). Only front rows, said the Metro Adlabs guy. Oh hell - that's the multiplex where movies never start on time. And the popcorn's pretty lousy, too. My daughter sadistically suggested 'Kismet Konnection'. I firmly kissed it goodbye.I like Shahid. But not THAT much. As for Vidya - she should buy Shilpa's yoga dvd,forthwith.And keep those thick legs out of sight.Aaaah.... the 'Sindhi Kadi' is ready. And so am I!

Pond's Cold Cream

If there is something more elusive than McKenna's Gold, it is Pond's Cold Cream. It happens to be my personal addiction.... and I am in serious withdrawal without it. If I could, I would eat the stuff - that's how bad the dependency is! But for the past few months, the product is gayab! Missing from shelves. I have searched far and wide with little luck. Pond's may have introduced a new range of even better creams, but I am a loyalist (like Amar Singh). I like the cold cream. And I want it bad - real bad.As badly as Vidya B wants a hit. Would appreciate immediate intervention and help. Beauty is definitely skin deep, don't let those pageant winners fool you with all that rubbish about inner khoobsurti . Without Pond's my skin protests and threatens to resemble parchment. So... treat this as an SOS, folks. If you've got it - flaunt it. The jar, that is. Top buck guaranteed.
I watched 'Mama Mia' at Gloria Theatre in Stuttgart. It was in German. Did it mar my enjoyment? Heck, no. Meryl Streep lip locking with Pierce Brosnon might sound gross to some, but believe me, they worked their magic on screen and left the audience (Germans), screaming for more. I sang EVERY song (I was the only foreigner present plus, the only one who knew the ABBA lyrics!)Mama Mia was pure Bollywood - songs, dances, romances.It is bound to do well when it releases in India.Remake anyone? Hema and Dharam?With Esha thrown in? Remember, you read it here first!!

Surviving Stuttgart

It's not just Big B who battles lost baggage traumas, it has become routine!Along with misplaced luggage, I have to deal with absurd searches, especially at German airports. This time they asked penetrating questions about my shades!! They were a gift from my daughter. Basic Ralph Laurens, not diamond studded Cartier's. Yet, I was asked really annoying stuff about the pair. Why? Plus, The efficient ladies of Lufthansa 'forgot' to serve me any hot breakfast!And the flat beds on the plane were far from flat and most uncomfortable. Kunal Kohli and Jag Mohan Mundra were on the same flight, same hotel and participating in the same Festival. Naturally, we became instant best friends.I loved Jag's film, "Shoot on Sight" which closed the festival. It is a taut thriller, shot in London and starring Naseeruddin Shah.Based on a true story after an innocent Muslim man was shot by Brit cops in the wake of the London bombings, Mundra's movie is a polished and assured film that never loses its pace. It didn't win any awards... but that's ok. It will win Mundra a lot of new fans.
Kunal did well with the audience interactions and was frantically location hunting when last seen. Germany is so entirely sold on SRK, nobody else stands a chance. For German fans of Bollywood, the magic begins and ends with the Khan. Well, he was busy settling old scores with Salman back home,,, and missing in action in distant Germany. But Stuttgart continued to swoon over 'Chak De' regardless. BTW, i FELL IN LOVE WITH THE PLACE! The local Riesling is outstanding, and I didn't have sausage even once. Just some superbly presented nouvelle cuisine ( seared scallops on a bed of thai accented noodles) at a very chic restaurant called 'Cube'.All good. All good. More Stuttgart goss in the next post. Jet lagging at present and seriously zoned. Maybe I should reach for that bottle of Riesling??

Stuttgart on the card

Guys, I am off tonight. Never been to Stuttgart. Sounds kinda stuffy. Bet the food's awful - how much sausage can a woman consume??? Aaargh! But the 4 day seminar sounds like fun. 'Bollywood and Beyond'. Silly Germans. Don't they know there is NOTHING beyond Bollywood?? The scarey part is that the organisers have slotted me in for two looooong solo sessions of two hours each. Much as I adore B-TOWN (HA!), investing four hours of precious time on it and those folks???Naah! But going by the schedule given to me, Stuttgart will be going fully filmy, with dance workshops, screenings, parties called 'Bollywood Vibe' etc. Oh yes, there will be a Red Carpet, and Black Tie dinners. I don't possess a black tie, alas. Nora vintage YSL tuxedo\smoking jacket. Could borrow Aamir Khan's.. OR Srk's... but most people resemble maitre d's when they try and pull off the dinner jacket look. Other than Sean Connery or George Clooney, of course. Since I don't look like either of them, I'm counting on my black sarees to see me through. One thing I definitely won't do - dip into Aishwarya's Red Carpet wardrobe, or ask Neeta Lulla for help.
Hmmmmm. Moon Das is back with a bang (pardon the pun!). Her 'ambition' is to become an item girl and be in the Rakhi Sawant league... or at least get to Sherlyn's position (horizontal??)! Talk of low aspirations! Well.... three lives were lost because of Moon ( rechristened Anushkaa). May their souls rest in peace, while Moon rocks on! Back on the blog next week. Tuesday at the earliest. None the wurst for the journey.Danke!!

So how....??

I just love it! Picked up in Singapore - duty free - a delicious phrase that is soooo Singapore and covers soooo much ground. "So how...?" can be a friendly greeting that wonders how you are, how is life treating you etc. Or, asked with a lilting question mark in your voice, it could refer to more cosmic issues. It's far superior to Wassup? which doesn't convey the concern built into 'So how'. Just like an emphatic " Cannnnnn..." seals a deal, and an equally emphatic " Cannnn nawwww," breaks it, Singapore has its own version of English. Let's call it 'Singlish'. The local accent drives me nuts, but on the whole, Singapore (the 'new', 'improved' avatar) gets my vote as a safe and fun destination. I am going back in September to catch the Formula One action, for which the island state is gearing up feverishly. Every single hotel room is taken and here are no tickets available. Not one to give up that easily, I plan on camping out at our son's apartment ( but he has to get there first, once he's done with Krakow), and shamelessly pulling strings. So how??? Watch this space, honey. And I'll show you how.
As i write this, I am nibbling on the world's best biscotti (whole wheat, oil free). Sangeeta Khanna is one of the most talented ladies I know. She makes incredibly creative fashion jewellery ( I wear it all the time), and she cooks! Her biscotti is flavoured with rose petals and pistachios, or fresh orange rind and toasted almonds. It is paper thin and amazingly crunchy. She makes it to order, and supplies batches to a few stores like Nature's Basket. But.... if you call her, she'll make it for you, too!Look at me - I wear her baubles, I eat her biscotti.Oooof. Too much of a good thing. So how??? Easy. I'm greedy. And spoilt.I love the unusual.That's how.

Singapore Fling

Something wild and wonderful is happenening at Singapore. It is getting a life!!! A nightlife. As the rest of the world knows it, that is. Forget quaffing Singapore Slings (never been a fan!), what's far headier is the attitude of locals, who are partying like never before at amazing clubs and lounge bars. The few that caught my fancy are The Rupee Room (desi-owned ), Colaba Club (love the name!), and Bollywood Dhoom ( fully filmy, with gorgeous bar girls from Mumbai). But the trendiest of the lot has to be Zouk. Carved out of an old warehouse, and on several levels, Zouk features three club areas, each with a distinct ambience. The atmosphere is really chilled out with amazing looking people (most chicks wearing dangerously short shorts). I had the best time, clad in a saree! Oh, the food adventure was brilliant, too, thanks to my new best friends on the blog who had made some excellent recommendations. I did go to the humble chicken and rice pavement restaurant opposite the Novena MRT, and can vouch for the signature dish it is famous for - the chicken was succulent, yielding, moist and perfectly cooked, with just the right amount of chopped scallion. The rice was perfection itself - steaming hot and very fragrant. Yes, I drove endless miles to the East Coast for the famous chilly crab (crisp Californian Chardonnay to go with the slightly sweet sauce), but vastly preferred the sharper pepper version, eaten with lightly sauteed chinese greens. Since my daughter is a sushi fan(and a bit of a pest sometimes - just kidding- or am I?) my last meal was at a fast food but superb chain called Sakae Sushi (conveyor belt system ). The smoked eel was splendid, but thecrab sticks tasted like new rubber.Right next door to the Sushi place was an Indian outlet selling crab meat samosas! Now that's an idea for our local chefs who love stealing!So... which Bollywood star rules in S'Pore? It still remains SRK territory.With Saif a close second.Shah Lukh Khan lules, ok???

'Khaata rahey mera dil' is the suggested title for my blog by a regular visitor. In fact there is a suggestion that i should convert my blog into a recipe book!! Hmmmm. I could. But Sanjeev Kapoor is my friend. Should I do that to a friend?? More seriously speaking, do you guys really think I am such a glutton? Does it show? Am I that obvious?? Please say 'no'. But I do love food - writing about it, talking about it, dreaming about it.... and of course, eating it. I added ruby red pomegranate seeds to my salad this afternoon, along with shavings of parmesan, dried and toasted sunflower seeds, chopped up grilled chicken (last night's leftovers), and I was hugely pleased. A slice of Moshe's incomparable oatmeal and honey bread (toasted, of course), completed my meal (lunch is never before 4 pm). An hour from now, I shall be leaving for the airport, after a 'light' supper of pasta covered with moist kheema and thin slices of roasted aubergine. A desi version of the Greek moussaka. I shall also sprinkle a pinch of Andhra gunpowder over portions of it, and round it all off with a hand- rolled Rolex chocolate (as reliable as their watches).Ok guys. Go salivate!! I'll be back with Singapore flavours on monday. Try and survive without me till then.

Gaata Rahey Mera Dil

I lovvvvve the new Carla Bruni tracks. Lovvvvvvvve ! No wonder Sarkozy has cancelled a scheduled state visit to be present at his hottie wife's album release. Any man in his right man would do the same. State visit! Forget it. The world can wait. Carla croons her words like a caress.... whispers, whistles and hums . The words are what count. Each time I listen to her over the car stereo, i try and sing along.... in my atrociously accented french. My cd is illegal and I swear I'll buy the asli cheez as and when it hits stores. For now, it's the guilty pleasure of enjoying Bruni the chanteuse that makes those interminable drives to the airport slightly less intolerable. I am off to Singapore to participate in a swish Literary Salon at the Tanglin Club. I am told there is much anticipation and excitement. All good. Why? Because I am worth it!! BTW, Aishwarya does not own the copyright to that lovely line. Wonder if L'Oreal does. But it is a great line and I can't resist it in this sort of a context. I like Singapore. The chilly crab is worth the flight. But I'm wondering WHEN I'll get to the crab given my gruelling press schedule. Am I cribbing? You bet ! I land at 8am, and the first tv interview- BBC, no less - begins at 10 ! Oh cruel world! But then 'Superstar India' deserves no less! And I am sure the formal interaction at the salon will whet local appetites for more than the famous crab!

I am missing my favourite columnist Sapna Bhavnani! She is out of Mumbai Mirror. Which means I won't be reading the paper on 'her' day either. I am a loyalist. And hers was the only fresh, honest and readable column to begin with. Kya afsos ki baat hai. Shall we start a "Get Sapna back' campaign?

Dubbing Shubbing

I think I have hit upon a brand new vocation - dubbing!! Tried my hand errrr, voice, at it this evening and discovered I was pretty good . Like, AMAZING! Ahem.... there are times in ones life when modesty seems misplaced and slightly ridiculous. The pros present told me I was good, okay? 'One take artist' and all that. Hmmmm... is there anyone out there in search of a husky voice? Yes?? I'm your woman. Haven't had so much fun in years. The studio was freezing....colder than the Arctic Zone..... or Maureen Wadia's smile when Preity is around. Next time I'll take a blanket, gloves, boots. Of course there will be a next time! This was only a test run. My voice debut. I shall happily loan my services to Kangana.... gawd that woman sounds awful! Enough bragging for now. It is just that the experience was so refreshingly new, I kinda got carried away. Monday is nearly over. Prateik's proud aunts are trying to reach me - one from Geneva and the other, who lives here. Raj Babbar is silent. Verrrry silent.

Slouchy Sunday

I don't know about you guys, but a blissed out sunday for me involves a faded caftan, oiled hair, an afternoon siesta , newspapers, and an hour long massage. Babita (no, not Bebo's mother), is the friendly, neighbourhood maalishwali whose magic fingers knead away the week's accumulated stress and tension. It is a wordless hour....but oh, how it relaxes me. I think of every possible solution to world issues while Babita works on my tired muscles. This evening I found the answer to the nuclear treaty impasse, and India's sliding economy. I wanted to phone Karan Thapar with the brilliant insights but thought better of it. Just as I was exulting in my own genius, I recalled the joy of enjoying a smoked beetroot salad at Indigo last night. And the delicately flavoured cucumber broth in which floated the perfect salmon ravioli. Unfortunately, the portions were so pitiful, I got home hungry and attacked a slab of dark chocolate. Indigo remains a top favourite, but with rising prices, the chefs have decided to shrink the dishes to bite- sized teasers that tantalise but do not satisfy the appetite. I believe it is called the 'coitus interruptus moment' in fine dining. Other than that grouse, it was a great evening (the chilled Sauvignon Blanc definitely helped), and the place was pleasantly full but not hectic. Inflation rears its ugly head??Oh hell, slouchy sunday followed by manic monday. Babita.... where are you???

Pappu CAN dance!!

Here's the good news: Imraan rocks. He is a serious cutie, and college kids are going ga ga over him already.And yes, he CAN dance, besides act convincingly. Plus, his dishum dishum scenes aren't half bad either. The best trick, however is his positioning. How smart and clever is that?? Imraan does not have much of a physique - so, what does the team do? Pack him off to a gym to get all buffed up? Nooooo. That would be too much of a cliche - besides, check out the competition ... and look what happened to Harman when he attempted a Hritik Me Too.Instead, all the pr and publicity around Janne Tu ( orchestrated by the genius uncle, no doubt) revolves around Imraan's non-sculpted sex appeal. Imraan himself admits he's no Adonis. Good thinking. The audience is prepared and disarmed well in advance. His all-important 'intro scene' is equally understated and natural. That works big time, too. We know our hero is just another chikna Bandra Boy, whose eyebrows need drastic trimming. His buddies are again, mainly suburban 'types' - not filmi flunkies. The treatment of the main story (such as it is), remains unpretentious and charming. Nothing much happens till intermission. But nobody cares. One even overlooks those maha annoying airport cuts to a hugely irritating group going into flashbacks of the romance. But for me, the real star of Jaane Tu is Smita Patil's very appealing son, Prateik. More Hollywood than Bollywood. Imraan is made. But Prateik is pure gold.No. Make that Platinum! Watch this guy....

I have no intentions of watching the desi Mary Poppins, with the worst styling imaginable.... but.... all I know is that the late night shows at both multiplexes in South Mumbai were sold out! And it is not as if my daughter looked for tickets at show time! So, if nobody is supposed to be watching this dud, howcome there are no tickets on a week day at that ghastly hour? Whether or not Rani marries her Raja and lives happily ever after, her film career is facing one crisis after another. Rani is no angel in reel or real life.... I guess that is where the problem lies. At some stage, the asli self starts to show... and trouble begins.

The latest issue of 'Society' is terrific! Full of genuine exposes and garma garam masala. Especially the bold IPL story written by ASHWIN VARDE. Well researched and hard hitting, he has dared to go into touchy terrain, writing about SRK's falling out with Kolkata's Dada, and Mumbai's King. If the buzz is true, Mukesh and Sourav are no longer on SRK's best friends' list. But Lalit Modi has pipped Yuvi in the Priety stakes! Where that leaves the mess with Ness is anybody's guess.... but I would go with Ashwin's take . He is a pretty reliable journo, not given to cheap sensationalism.SRK has obviously miffed the Magna Group big time, going by the other 'hot' story that shows the superstar in a poor light. Real estate nightmares never seem to end for this Khan. This time it is a Delhi property. KJo wooing the Big B and falling at his feet after watching Sarkar Raj, comes in for comment as well. Again, it's a strike against SRK and his possessiveness. Overall, it's a great monsoon read. But, why does nobody follow the Ahlan Masala Dubai formula here? It is Page 3 journalism at its sexiest. Great photo ops, cheeky write ups, loads of goss. Better than 'People'. And almost as glam as 'Hello!'

Still to 'Aamir' .... but it is on my must-see list. Sorry, but the real Aamir was a real wash out interviewing his nephew Imran on a tv channel. Aamir, go get some sleep. The bags under the eyes will soon reach your knees. Eye Spa?? Chill out, man. Your intensity is seriously harrowing.

spoil the mom.... and spare the child

yup. I have arrived at that happy spot in my life where a gentle reversal of roles has taken place. While in Dubai, it was my daughter Arundhati who took care of me in the sweetest possible way. Small things, from making sure there was an extra pillow on my bad, to leaving written instructions each time she left the villa. She cooked for me AND took me partying. Now that is a huge compliment. I am sure I took the average age at Boudoir up by 30 or 40 years, but while I was around, I enjoyed the set up. Especially dealing with the bouncers who kept asking Arundhati to produce her photo id. Come on fellas, she is 22, and was out with her mother, ok? I hung around in my brand new tiger print summer dress (H & M . JUST IN CASE YOU ARE WONDERING), and was ready to bounce after half an hour. Loved the music, and the crowd, but couldn't handle the thick cloud of cigarette smoke. Arundhati dropped me back and went to some other club - NEW ASIA?? Must ask her. We had been there together and witnessed a really sweet but chaste Hen's Nite party at the next table. Why did all those chicks look so glum? I think I know - someone was getting married! Cheers.

One of these nites

As of now, I am not sure which zone I am in.... not just time-wise, but in every sense.Dubai can get a bit too intense ( must be all those camels), especially if what you are looking for is some serious r&r, and what you get is frenzy! Though, a much needed pedicure in the best nail bar in town (Emirates Towers), provided the required respite. For starters, a delicate Phillipina, working on my big toe discovered a painful, ingrown nail. I yelped in pain, startling all the veiled sheikhas having the 9th manicure of the week, but was eternally grateful to the young girl for detecting the bloody thing and taking deft care of it. Meanwhile, I couldn't take my eyes off the sheikhas, who were busy flirting on the cell phone. Were they setting up secret assignations? Was it with the men whiling away precious hours at the strategically positioned Starbucks, right across the nail bar ? Dubai is so full of intrigue. And lust. It is evident in those hungry eyes...
Sheikh Mo, is the main man. And he often hangs around in the Boulevard of his magnificent Towers. My daughter nearly fell off her bench at the trendy Noodle House, when he walked in last week - no bodyguards, no hangers on. Magnetic and brilliant, he's the person who has transformed Dubai and made it into a genuine hot spot that can comfortably take on any European city today, in terms of amenities and opportunities.
Five days in Dubai are about as long as one can endure that life of luxe. From forty eight degrees in the shade there, to flooding and torrential rain in Mumbai.... it's been quite a week. More tomorrow. Right now, I want to know how much lower the sensex can go.Plunging stocks and rising hemlines generally go together. Watch this space...bye for now.And don't say it ... u missed me, right?