Friday, July 31, 2009

Jab I cried... for Saif !



This is a picture I clicked of a Romanian Gypsy child. I found it heart breaking... look into those sad eyes. Look at the plastic begging bowl. There she was at the palace gates in Krakow on a cold evening, playing a single tune over and over again on that little accordian. I placed a few coins in the bowl.... but couldn't walk away. Our guide obviously didn't like the sight of a beggar girl at the busy tourist spot. He snorted, " These people are no good. They send their children and women to beg, while the men steal and get drunk. We don't like Gypsies... they are a menace to society." Poor child. She hadn't asked to be born to Gypsy parents!

*****************************************************************************************

I am not in the best of moods... I have just come home after enduring two hours of unadulterated tedium in the form of 'Love Aaj Kal.' Right now, I'm in no mood to feel sorry for Saif... I'm feeling sorrier for myself. I haven't been this bored for a long, long time. Much as I like Saif, there is something called too much of a good thing . Saif is in every damn frame! His monologues are embarrassing, and I got the distinct feeling if he could have played Deepika's role as well, he probably would have! He plays the jawan Rishi Kapoor ( the best moments in the film), and he pretty much plays himself for 120 minutes. There is no story as such, no fun stuff either. The item numbers are stale and borrowed. Plus, there is a truly ghastly New Year's eve sequence which redefines 'tacky'. What else??? Rishi Kapoor is the sole saving grace in an otherwise pointless movie. The anonymous young girl who plays the young Neetu Singh is refreshingly natural, likeable and way better than Deepika, whose make up is most unfortunate! Howcome the film has received a four star rating?? What's there to like??? If it's a hit, Saif will have the last laugh, of course. But come on, Imtiaz Ali - much more was expected from you after the sizzle, crackle and zing of 'Jab We Met.'

***************************

I am leaving for a 2-day break in my favourite getaway city - Pune. I could do with some serious R and R, but I doubt my daughters will spare me. ' Stone Water Grill' here I come !

Thursday, July 30, 2009

Gayatri Devi fades away... so does beauty....

The Curse of Beauty

The world will never know what the legendary beauty Gayatri Devi felt when she saw herself in the mirror – sixty years ago, when she had the world swooning at her feet…. and a few months ago, when she still had the world swooning at… at…. the memory. Gayatri Devi spent her adult life frozen in a single frame – that one defining image which was imprinted in our imagination. Like a lot of Living Legends, she too may have been tragically trapped in a construct she could never ever shed - “ The Most Beautiful Woman in the World.” This label became her claim to fame – regardless of what else she may have achieved in her rich and varied public life. Gayatri Devi was the Ultimate Maharani – the lady who personified ‘Royalty’. It was her special burden. Maybe it was also her secret joke. Every chhota-mota ‘princess’, whether from ‘Kadkanagar’ or some other rival ‘State’, strenuously tried to imitate the elegance of Gayatri Devi’s trademark chiffon sarees combined with a string of pearls. But nobody matched up. Nobody!
It must have been pretty tiring for her to live up to people’s expectations of her – but if the whole Beauty Talk bored her to tears, she didn’t reveal it, choosing to laugh it off, instead. The people of Jaipur adored her - most of them, at any rate. Given the complex politics of the Pink City, Gayatri Devi negotiated her way past those deadly landmines with admirable dexterity. She had her enemies, within and outside her family. But unlike other warring Royals, she handled her life with supreme dignity and grace. Palace politics were cleverly contained, her personal griefs (several!) rarely revealed, and her private misgivings, shared with but a few close confidantes.
I had met Gayatri Devi a few times over the years, and found her unbelievably down to earth, far from aloof and disarmingly ‘real’. Most people were awestruck, even dumbstruck in her presence. If she noticed their discomfort, she instantly reached out and put them at ease without patronizing anybody. She showed her true class and impeccable upbringing dealing with ‘her people’ – simple villagers who continued to flock to their Rajmata, confident she’d help them if she could. Her smokey, throaty voice added to the allure and mystique still further. Talking to her, it was easy to tell she was a woman who had LIVED. A woman who had experienced life in all its complexities. This Cinderella story was not without its warts.In her book, “ A Princess Remembers,” she had recalled with rare poignancy and candour that at the end of the day, even the World’s Most Beautiful Woman places her head on a pillow…. and silently weeps. Today, we mourn the death of Eternal Beauty. May her soul rest in peace.
*********************
The flight from Bhuvaneshwar had barely touched down when the phone calls started. Gayatri Devi had slipped away.... and with her an entire era had also ended. Two days earlier, another legendary beauty, Leela Naidu, had died a lonely death in her Colaba flat. Sometimes, only a cliche says it best - they don't make them like that anymore.
**************************
As was expected, my whirlwind trip to Orissa went by in a flash and a blur of lovely memories. What does an award -winning writer do on a loooong flight?? Two guesses. Both will be wrong! Amitav Ghosh spent most of his time swatting flies! It must have been acutely frustrating for him, since he was also trying to write ( no laptop, yellow writing pads, fountain pen, much scratching, chopping , changing - I was openly spying!!). But when the Indian Airlines plane landed at Raipur (hopping flight), we picked up monster flies which swarmed the cabin and buzzed over Amitav's tousled, silver grey crop of hair. Poor guy battled the menace through the next hour, before finally giving up.
*****************************
I wasn't sure I was ready to listen to a local guide taking Arundhati and moi through the 'meaning' of those explicit and highly erotic Konarak sculptures. But the person turned out to be a really discreet gentleman, who rushed us past the more kinky ones and concentrated on the harmless dance panels. Earlier, we had watched the angry sea outside our bay windows. The Mayfair Hotel is right on the beach at Puri, and very interestingly designed using local material.
Our darshan at the Jagannath Mandir took place late at night. It was a hair-raisingly sublime experience. Especially the time spent in the Mahalakshmi temple just after the bhog ceremony. I feel so very blessed....

Monday, July 27, 2009

Love Aaj Kal....

I slyly clicked this sweet post-shaadi moment in Prague.... and love the mood. It can't get more romantic than this! Just after taking their vows and walking out of church , the young couple strolled across the huge main square , to pose for the official wedding photographer. The cobbled surface must have been hard on the bride's ankles for the poor girl hobbled over to the nearest free bench and collapsed. The gallant groom was at her feet in a jiffy! He not only massaged her sore toes, he also helped her out of her stilletoes and into a more comfortable pair of sandals that she was sensibly carrying in her bag. These two are certainly putting the best foot forward and starting their married life on the right note.
Frankly, I can't visualise even the most devoted groom in India doing what this Czech dulha is so comfortably attempting. The desi ego won't permit such a display. He'd be branded a jhoroo ka ghulam instantly and permanently. And mocked by relatives from both sides.
***
Oh God, this pic-thing is just so much fun! More tomorrow. I'm whetting your appetite. But wait... I'm off to Bhuvaneshwar at the crack of dawn (avec Arundhati). Amitav Ghosh and I have been invited to a literary meet organised by the Arya Vedant Society for Culture. What are we going to talk about? Well... we are on the same flight.... I'll check with Amitav ( absolute darling!). 'Sea of Poppies' may lead to an ocean of ideas. Shall tell all on my return. With pictures?? Awwwww.... I'm shy about posting my own.
But hey, even shy old me can't help showing off just a little. The latest 'Vogue' has a rather interesting cover. Check it out....

Sunday, July 26, 2009

Bingo!! Voila!! Pictures!!!!!!!!


Guys, please understand this is my Eureka moment!! Thanks to Arundhati, I've finally figured out how to upload pics! It is too, too but too exciting. Finally my Leica images can be shared. Yayyyyyy.
Please overlook clumsy layout etc. I'll get better at this as we go along. For now, I am ecstatic. Just as I was when I stumbled upon this clever painting by a talented Polish contemporary artist. It was hanging on the walls of one of the grand salons in the historic Wierzynek restaurant. I was enchanted! Take a closer look - recognise anybody? It's a pretty impressive guest list for a last supper. Shakespeare, Charlie Chaplin, Monroe, Napoleon, Mozart, Picasso, Einstein..... hmmm..... it doesn't get better than that. Make up your own Dream List.... go on, it's fun. Let's start a little contest here - mix and match names. Historical figures, living legends, today's icons...
There's more where that one came from. Lemme know. You want more???

Get off your high horses

This appeared in Sunday Times..... Very Important or Very Irritating People…???

Every second person you meet in India thinks he\she is a VIP. If not a VVIP. Expect for the one man who really is that – a triple VVVIP – our beloved former President, Dr. Abdul Kalam. The recent uproar over an ancient incident ( come on, it took place in April, not last week) makes one believe all the political huffing and puffing surrounding the ‘unpardonable’ act is nothing but opportunism parading as patriotism. And to think the elderly guy ( the ex-Prezzie) who was subjected to the ‘demeaning’ frisk, went along minus any protest or fuss! That is called true class, and real VVIP conduct. Every two bit Joe in our country expects, rather , demands special treatment. Why?? Simply! Haven’t we all cringed a thousand times hearing that awful sentence, “ Don’t you know who I am?” The obvious response to that is, “No. But so long as you know who you are, that’s fine.” Instead, the louder the person bellows, the lower some minion bows. It has to do with our feudalistic mindset and outdated class consciousness. This sickening attitude is so ingrained in our collective psyche, that it isn’t uncommon to observe a ten-year-old brat strutting around an airport with pappaji’s peons dancing around the kid. It is the old ‘Badey Baap ka Beta’ syndrome… and it is alive and thriving in the 21st century.
Hillarytai’s visit to India is again a nauseating reminder of how we crawl in the presence of ‘imported’ dignitaries. No doubt Mrs. Clinton is a world figure. But hey – she is a political appointee doing her job. Nothing more, nothing less. Why must we genuflect at her feet and treat her like a demi-Goddess who has deigned to bless the natives with her luminous presence?All that gush, the embarrassing, cloying coverage? Compare our breathless fawning over the American Secretary of State to North Korea’s terse dismissal of Hillary as a “primary schoolgirl.” Our over the top response to the former first lady is in keeping with the chamcha attitude we demonstrate whenever there is a celebrity around. But I am equally certain had Hillary been subjected to the same procedures as A.P.J. Kalam , had she been boarding an Air India flight, she would have gone along without a murmur, accepting that each country has the right to enforce its own security measures in today’s critical times. It is our own people who would have instantly exempted her , as they frequently do other famous faces. We need to understand why the bowing and scraping goes on in the first place. It is time we scrapped these arbitrary exemptions and made it one rule for all, regardless of status or position. This may lead to several ruffled egoes to begin with, but soon everybody will fall in line seeing zero options.
While this drama was being enacted back home, I was on an Air India flight from Frankfurt. Friends call me crazy for sticking with the beleaguered national carrier. Given the choice, I’d still opt for it, not because I am a masochist but because I believe that despite all its many shortcomings, it continues to represent a comfort zone and the service on board is far superior and more human as compared to the rude and robotic conduct displayed by foreign cabin crew. There are several frequent fliers who remain loyal to Air India with good reason. It is distressing to note how the airline is being systematically stripped and ruined over the years. Successive governments have taken advantage of technical loopholes to assert themselves, loot money, favour rivals, neglect genuine concerns and do so brazenly, safe in the knowledge that no action will be taken against anyone. Corruption rules. And the people at the receiving end of all the new fangled cost cutting measures are mostly hapless, loyal employees who have served the airline for thirty years or more. The VIP syndrome strikes again, when one gets to the bottom of the mess. Assorted netas ( India’s real royalty) have wreaked havoc on an airline that was once rated amongst the world’s top five carriers. Nobody is answerable anymore.Some of the most profitable routes have been bartered off, some great international properties sold, even the prestigious hanger at Heathrow was flogged .The days of legends like J.R.D. running the show are long over. The last hope to rescue the airline remains another Tata – aapro Ratan himself. Granted, he is capable. But what is needed is a miracle to keep Air India aloft.Perhaps Ratan’s the man – another true blue VVIP like Dr. Kalam, who would never object to being frisked – even while boarding an Air India flight!

Thursday, July 23, 2009

Quickie

I'll make this fast. Not quite twitter quality. But close enough. I am back to Monsoon Mumbai. The ominous high tide that was wreak havoc is upon us even as I key this .... the city is drowning, but so far I haven't heard anything too awful. At least there was a fair warning this year and people were better prepared. But, last night, as the Air India plane crossed the Indo- Pak border and the air controller in Karachi greeted our captain and co-pilot with a polite 'namastey', my thoughts raced to Qasab. Before we get to him, a word about the experienced and erudite pilot of the flight - Capt. Vijay Fernandes . We were at St. Xavier's College at about the same time and I was delighted to discover he possesses over 4 lakh books, some of them first editions. He was gracious enough to invite us to the cockpit and discuss - what else - books!! It was a rare pleasure, and he is a good, kind man. Anybody who knows so much about trees and life, has to be truly wise!
Back to Qasab and his 'confession'. The timing is significant. Did Hillaryben's sortie have anything to do with his sudden and dramatic change of heart?? Why should we oblige this evil man and hang him?? He deserves a worse fate.
***
I came home to Shravan. It is an important month for me. And perfectly timed as it turns out. No meat, no wine and a strict fast on mondays. A great way to detox and deal with the excess of the past few weeks. I'm scheduled to leave for Orissa early next week, but am dreading the trek to the airport once again. The only way to 'enjoy' the rains is to stay home and watch from a dry\safe distance. Let me know if you want more Krakow stories... I have several to share!

Tuesday, July 21, 2009

grrrrr..... grounded!

i thought it only happens in india - mysterious flight delays, silly explanations, and hours stuck in a biz lounge wondering what to do!! but here i am, still in Krakow... the lufthansa flight to frankfurt is still to arrive, and the announcements are in czech. i could be here forever and ever!!
but first the good news. i leave krakow with heavy heart. it has been a revelation. krakow came as a pleasant surprise, possibly because i came here expecting nothing. i remembered all those jokes about Poles and was sure i'd meet some exceptionally dumb locals! instead i met polite, cheerful and helpful people at every level.... and they were clever!
Our idea to take a slow train from prague was a bad one. the scenery was monotonous and journey far too long ( eight hours). but we did eat some wonderful potato soup on the train and drank Polish white wine which was so good we promptly bought 5 more bottles! now here comes a really major tip : we desis don't know the meaning of travelling light. it is time we taught ourselves to travel like the rest of the world with one smallish suitcase that can be rolled along with ease. there are no porters these days, and believe me, getting 3 jumbo suitcases on and off a train is not fun!
but our hotel made up for it, and the taxi driver was kind enough to help. i always judge a destination by its cabbies and public loos. czech cabbies were rude and unhelpful. The Poles were consistently obliging.Hotel Stary ( strange name) is new, hip, stylish and excellently located just off the main square ( the largest medieval market square in europe). this is good and bad. bad only because, krakow being a student town with over 400 pubs, rowdy, noisy kids keep you awake till dawn with their exhuberant shouting matches in the square. liquor stores never shut in krakow -Alkohole signs at every corner let you know booze is but a few short steps away 24x7. Polish vodka has its fans, and my husband is one of them. the Poles drink it neat in tiny glasses. We went to a charming 18th century restaurant called Redolfie close to the hotel and once again discovered the soft spoken, well mannered nature of the local people, who genuinely want to make you feel welcome.
I guess i must have been tired for i told my husband grumpily that after a point ALL european cities look alike, smell alike , are alike. there is a cobbled square at the centre with cafes all around, horse drawn carriages, countless churches, one castle on the hill and the smell of smoked pork in the air. I wasn't too off the mark. However, krakow's history and its terrific people made up for all the other 'me too' aspects! i am glad we took a conducted walking tour with a super chap called Thomas, who really made the city come alive. i now know more about Polish kings , Queens, bishops and of course, the world's best loved Pope, thanks to Thomas. The story i most enjoyed was about the queen ( canonised and now a saint), who donated all her wealth, jewels and precious gems to save the university which was about to shut down due to a shortage of funds!! We walked around the castle, and walked into a spectacular church ( Mary's Ascencion) right by the market square, and were drawn into another era. The altar here is so dramatic, no wonder the Nazis were after it. The nazis were after EVERYTHING , of course. As we walked through the Jewish quarter and went past Schindler's factory ( now a museum), I had tears in my eyes. i saw 36 chair sculptures in a large square and was told each chair represented a 1000 jews who were exterminated there. i remembered another poignant memorial we'd seen on the edge of the river in Buda- Pest. a local sculptor had installed countless bronze shoes by the river bank. These represented the shoes of Jews shot there and thrown into the river after being asked to step out of their shoes. i couldn't and didn't visit Auschwitz - what for?? to feel sadder still???
there were many such deeply, deeply moving moments. surprisingly enough, there are very few jewish families left in krakow, which is the second largest city in Poland after Warsaw, and if you don't count Chicago!!
aaah.... the khaana peena. If you are planning to have just one meal in a great restaurant, I strongly recommend WIERZYNEK established in 1364. Yup. You read that right!! Legend has it a wealthy merchant opened it over 600 years ago with a party to beat all parties. He invited monarchs from across europe and served them out of solid gold plates. They partied non-stop for 21 days and nights. and when the guests finally left, they were asked to take the plates with them!!
you tell me - why can't more people party like that??

Friday, July 17, 2009

All Pragued out...

Am wondering when Bollywood will discover this visually stunning destination .... and ruin the mystique forever? 'Mission Impossible' was shot here, so was 'Amadeus' ( but of course!), and Dr. Zhivago. The views are spectacular, especially from Charles Bridge. People are milling around. But where are the locals? For a city of just over a million people, one wonders where they are in this vastness? Tourists tourists everywhere not a Czech in sight!! Which is not a bad thing. Think Martina Hingis. Or even the other Martina. See what I mean?
The interesting thing about listening to Don Giovanni at the gloriously exhuberant Estates Theatre is that it premiered there! Apart from that, I was not particularly impressed and wondered what Opera buff, cousin Gautam Rajadhyaksha would have thought of the soprano hitting those high notes so shakily!
'La Provence' at last night's dinner was depressing, what with exceedingly drunk Brit louts puking on the pavement outside. Perhaps tonight will make up for it.... though I have just slurped a gigantic vanilla icecream with warm berries at the magnificent Municipal House cafe - so floridly Art Nouveau, I nearly keeled over and fell trying to photograph the dazzling chandeliers. But the charming band playing Miles Davis made up for the excess , and even the blistering heat.... by the way, the city provides a lovely civic touch with huge water tankers that drive through the squares spraying the streets and passers by to bring down temperatures. For a conducted tour, I was tempted to climb into one of the restored vintage cars that take tourists around in stately splendour, but settled for a coach. I could have picked a horse carriage ( I like the leather 'nappies' strapped at the horses' rears to catch their you-know-what from spoiling the place )..... but our ghoda gaddis in Mumbai are far more charming.
Shopping wise, remember this is the birthplace of BATA shoes. They remain as ugly as I remember them from my school days. This is also the place that invented Pilsner beer. Since I'm not a beer drinker, I shall reserve my comment. I have bought nothing besides a purple t-shirt. Since I have been living in shorts, I have turned the colour of a well- made toast ( with a caramel topping). No complaints. We leave for Krakow tomorrow on a slow train. Since I have been 'pigging out', literally and figuratively, I'm all set to starve in Poland.... before heading home via Frankfurt. Does Prague figure on my 'Must re-visit' list? Naah. The Americans bombed it four times during the war. The country is young. Floods and fires have destroyed it several times through the centuries. But it left me cold. Poor Prague... or poor me??

Thursday, July 16, 2009

CZECH THIS OUT....

OKAY, OKAY... I ADMIT IT IS A CHEESY T-SHIRT SLOGAN, BUT IRRESISTIBLE NEVERTHELESS. WHY IS THIS IN ALL- CAPS? because the blessed computer i'm using in the hotel's business centre is pretty eccentric and has a mind of its own. LIKE THE PEOPLE OF THIS CITY! while prague is exceedingly pretty in a CINDERELLA'S CASTLE KIND OF WAY, LANGUAGE REMAINS A MAJOR PROBLEM. NOBODY SPEAKS ENGLISH OR EVEN WANTS TO. RESTAURANT MENUS ARE IN CZECH, STREET NAMES SOUND ALIKE AND THE ONLY VISUAL REFERENCE IS TO KEEP THE CLOCK TOWER AT THE CITY CENTRE AS YOUR GUIDING LIGHT. THIS ISN'T FUN FOR YOU OFTEN END UP WALKING IN CIRCLES . KHAIR.... THIS IS A SMALL QUIBBLE GIVEN THE RICHES ON OFFER otherwise.
OUR FIRST NIGHT ON THE TOWN WAS AT A HUGE AND HIGHLY RATED CLASSIC CZECH CUISINE RESTAURANT CLOSE BY CALLED' KOLKOVNA'. ALL WENT great TILL MY HUSBAND'S PHONE WENT MISSING! we had eaten well - let me qualify that - eaten a lot. THIS IS PORK HEAVEN, AND GOD HELP YOU IF CALORIES ARE A CONCERN. IT IS PORK OR NOTHING! vegetarians - go starve! there is precious little but mashed potatoes and a few salad leaves for you. HOWEVER, THERE IS A DESI RESTAURANT CALLED KHAJURAHO!! they claim to serve KASHMIRI CUISINE!!! is that supposed to be erotic or what??
while we were mourning the theft of the phone, our minds went back to the conversation we'd been having just before the instrument got pinched. WE WERE DISCUSSING THE BIRTH OF NARI HIRA'S GRANDSON ARYAN VIKRAM HIRA AND SAYING WHAT A TERRIFIC DAD\GRANDDAD nari MAKES. MY HUSBAND HAD A BRAINWAVE - NARI SHOULD GET HIS PORTRAIT PAINTED, he declared dramatically. AND HE SHOULD BE PAINTED AS ELVIS PRESLEY, DRESSED IN WHITE. WE EVEN NOMINATED THE PAINTER - JAIDEEP MEHROTRA - WHOSE WORK WE LIKE. MUST HAVE BEEN THE CZECH WINE ( dodgy, yup, i'm confirming it!), the PARTAGAS SERIE- D CIGAR HE WAS SMOKING AT THE TIME, AND ALL THAT CHOLESTROL BUILDING UP. WE STAGGERED BACK TO THE HOTEL PROMISING TO GO BEAT UP THE MANAGER AT THE 'KOLKOVNA' THE NEXT MORNING.
BUT THAT WAS TILL THE CONCERTS INTERVENED AND TRANSFORMED OUR MIND SET. PRAGUE DURING SUMMER BECOMES A CITY OF MUSIC. THERE ARE FREE CONCERTS IN EVERY CHURCH AND SYNAGOGUE. THE FIRST ONE WE ATTENDED IN THE ST. NICHOLAS CHURCH FEATURED A CHOIR FROM OHIO!
the second one in " europe's most beautiful synagogue" was indeed uplifting featuring a crazed jewish violinist with an elegant mother ( he dedicated a composition to her!) accompanying him on a piano. 'HAVA NA GILA' SOUNDED DEMENTED BUT LIVELY. WE HAD TO CALM THE NERVES AFTER THAT PERFORMANCE WITH SOMETHING COOL, TALL AND ALCOHOLIC. WE WAFTED INTO 'PRAVDA' WHERE A MELANCHOLY DUO SANG ENGLISH SONGS FROM THE '70'S, BUT ERIK THE HANDSOME WAITER PROMPTLY MADE UP FOR IT BY PRODUCING A HUMIDOR AND OFFERING MY HUSBAND A COHIBA ROBUSTO WHICH INSTANTLY ELEVATED HIS MOOD. he also recommended 'BUGSY'S BAR' FOR AN AFTER-DINNER DRINK. EXCELLENT RECOMMENDATION, BTW!
my mood WASN'T TOO BAD EITHER. EARLIER, WE'D BEEN TO FRANZ KAFKA'S AND ERICH MARIA RILKE'S FAVOURITE CAFE, 'KAVRANA SLAVIA' NEAR THE RIVER AND ENJOYED A DELICIOUS, WICKEDLY LUSCIOUS CREPE WITH WARM BERRIES, WHIPPED CREAM, HONEY AND COLD SOUR CREAM. I TOLD YOU, FORGET CHOLESTROL WHEN IN PRAGUE! vaclav havel used to hang out here as well and the pristine art deco detailing made me feel nostalgic for hotel SEA GREEN ON MARINE DRIVE IN MUMBAI.
DVORAK, MOZART, YOU CAN FEEL THEIR PRESENCE EVERYWHERE.
I MUST RUN. THE HUSBAND IS GETTING IMPATIENT. AND WE HAVE DON GIOVANNI TO ENJOY A FEW HOURS FROM NOW, FOLLOWED BY DINNER AT THE REPUTED ' LA PROVENCE', WHERE THE DUCK AND CASSOULET ARE SUPPOSED TO BE OUTSTANDING. CHEERS GUYS!! it's a tough life, but someone's got to live it, right???

Wednesday, July 15, 2009

Prague at its prettiest...

It was love at first sight! I got here a few hours ago, checked in to a beautiful boutique hotel close to the main square, and hit the road running! Must have walked at least 5kms ( which is one hell of a trek for someone like moi), and feel like I belong to this vibrant and overwhelmingly beautiful city. It is not as 'imperial' and grand as Budapest, but it has its own unique beauty, as we discovered while eating onion soup across a building that was glistening like burnished gold in the rays of the late afternoon sun. But when I looked over the cobblestones carefully, I discovered the manhole covers in Prague are nowhere near the works of art they are in Budapest! Really!! Budapest was known for its exquisite ironwork over centuries and that is evident at every turn - the grills, railings and yes, manhole covers are total eye candy. Over a long and lingering breakfast at the historic Cafe Gerbeaud ( established:1858), sitting under a mulberry bush with noisy, chattering sparrows feeding bread crumbs off the marble top table, sipping hot chocolate and feeling sad about leaving Budapest, I vowed to come back soon and spend time at the magnificent opera house.
To make me feel better, as soon as we arrived in Prague, my husband booked tickets for Don Giovanni, and other Mozart arias, which will be performed in a gorgeous Spanish Synagogue tomorrow night. Unlike in Budapest, there are thousands and thousands of tourists thronging the picturesque square here. And there are no war scars to be seen - Prague surrendered to Hitler without putting up any resistance whatsoever, remember! I'm told the local cuisine is a little iffy, and the wines somewhat dodgy. Shall give you the full report tomorrow. We are planning to eat at a charming restaurant close to the hotel and then walk across the square for an after dinner coffee. My children tell me it is pouring in Mumbai. Well, I am relieved to be dry, cool and comfortable in Pretty Prague. I shall keep you posted!!

Monday, July 13, 2009

Budapest at its best....

How about this?? Beethoven composed the Moonlight Sonata right here! And I NOW KNOW WHY. Budapest is astonishingly beautiful in a tragic sort of way. It breaks your heart. The Danube is far from blue. In fact it is a muddy brown - but magical, nevertheless. We are staying at the magnificent Four Seasons Hotel on the river bank, and from my large French windows I watch the river's many moods. I went in search of a Hungarian Rhapsody and found it on the first night itself, at a Gypsy concert in the woods. Listening to the 100 gypsies playing Franz Lizt in that enchanting setting, as the sky turned a vivid shade of orange.... then purple.... then dark, velvety black, I nearly turned composer myself.
What really broke my heart were the Baroque buildings riddled with bullet holes from the many wars Hungary has survived. Today, the country is nearly broke, but the Magyars are a proud people. There is so very much I have learnt in these four short days - did you know Hungary is the second largest producer of foie gras in the world after France.... or that its wines are refined and sophisticated enough to compete with the best anywhere, especially the rich Pinot Noir and my personal favourite - a local sparkling white that's better than Champagne?? On that note, shall we say ciao ciao for now? Have to rush to a chic bistro called Menza, close the the Champs Elysee of Budapest for some more bubbles. I'll catch you in a day or two from Prague...

Wednesday, July 8, 2009

Iranian Journalist

On Wed, Jul 8, 2009 at 2:30 PM, Jo Glanville wrote:
Dear ShobhaaThanks so much for your support for Maziar.However - that petition was not ready to go public!It's to be sent next week to the Iranian authorities - signed by 100 leadinginternational journalists - and we haven't finished working on it.It's being carefully orchestrated by Newsweek, CPJ and Index. tell people who areinterested to go to the Facebook site for Maziar?http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=92920517209&__a=1Thanks for your understanding.All bestJoJo GlanvilleEditorIndex on CensorshipFree Word Centre60 Farringdon RoadLondon EC1R 3GA+44 (0) 207 324 2531+44 (0) 771 302 0971jo@indexoncensorship.orgwww.indexoncensorship.org
*******************************************************************************************
now you know where to go and what to do.
i have been writing non -stop all day, stopping briefly for a biryani break with my brother. This weather makes me seriously hungry.... but not for 'piping hot bhajiyas and garam chai'. That is such a cliche. Every starlet in town trots out the bhajiya-chai quote while responding to those dumb interviews about the 'monsoon magic'. There's nothing particularly 'magical' about the Mumbai monsoon. Unless you find slush magical.

Tuesday, July 7, 2009

Important and urgent

Blogdosts, pass this on to all your friends in media. No. Pass it on to every single person you know who values freedom - it is all we really have!! The petition is self- explanatory. Our voices will help save an innocent man's life. And send a strong signal to oppressive regimes the world over that there are eyes, ears, voices and tears that still believe in human rights.
On 7/7/09, Intern1 wrote:
Dear Shobhaa De ,I'd be immensely grateful for your help.We are working with the Committee for the Protection of Journalists and Newsweek in New York to try and secure the release of the Iranian-Canadian journalist Maziar Bahari in Tehran. He was reporting on the elections in Iran and has been detained without charge since 21 June.We are asking leading editors and journalists around the world to sign a letter calling for his release. It will be sent to the head of the judiciary in Iran - and we would be delighted if you felt able to sign it. Signatories include CNN’s Cristiane Amanpour, leading Pakistani journalist Ahmed Rashid, the editor of Die Zeit, Josef Joffe, the editor of El Pais, Javier Moreno and celebrated Italian reporter Roberto Saviano.Maziar is one of the most remarkable reporters and film makers in his field. He has worked for the BBC (Newsnight and Panorama), and Channel 4, as well as reporting for Newsweek. His documentary films include ‘And Along Came A Spider’ about an Iranian serial killer and, most recently, ‘An Iranian Odyssey’ about the plot to overthrow Mossadegh in 1953.We believe that a strong protest from Maziar Bahari's peers at the highest level in Iran will form a significant part of the campaign for his release.http://www.newsweek.com/id/203036I look forward to hearing from you.With kind regards,Lily Ash Sakula,Index on Censorshipwww.indexoncensorship.org <http://www.indexoncensorship.org/> +44 (0)20 7324 2522Sent on behalf of Jo Glanville, the Editor
jo@indexoncensorship.org
PETITIONWe are writing to express our grave concern at the detention of our esteemedfellow journalist Maziar Bahari and to request his immediate release. MrBahari has been detained since June 21. No charges have been brought againsthim, and he has not been granted access to a lawyer. As one of the mostimpartial and committed journalists in his field, he has been regularlyreporting from the Middle East, principally on Iran and Iraq, for the pastdecade, providing consistently balanced and insightful reports. As anaward-winning documentary film maker he has earned global respect for hiswork.We request his immediate release from custody and that he be allowed toresume his work. As a journalist, he was engaged in fulfilling hisprofessional duties, reporting on critical events following the elections.At a minimum he is entitled to the full protection of the laws of Iran,including the right to legal counsel. The Islamic Republic of Iran¹sdomestic laws recognize the right to free expression and Iran was one of thefirst countries in the world to ratify the International Covenant on Civiland Political Rights in 1975, which guarantees all individuals the freedomto seek, receive and impart information and ideas of all kinds, regardlessof frontiers, either orally, in writing or in print, in the form of art, orthrough any other media.As a group of leading international journalists and editors, who wish toensure that our fellow professionals are permitted to do their work safelyand freely, we ask you to consider this petition and return Mr Bahari to hisfriends, colleagues and family without further delay.

Monday, July 6, 2009

Filmi Fashion Faux Pas



Why desi actors never get it right…!

The day I spotted a Page 3 picture of a minor TV star ( are there any other kind?) wearing an Ed Hardy tee and baseball cap, I knew it was all over . For Ed Hardy. Edgy International brands have never had it so bad. First , the recession. And then, Desi Men wearing Korean knockoffs. Poor Ed. All was going well for the brand till that point. At least when it came to true blue fashionistas like Yash Birla, who joined the Ed Hardy club years ago, when it was a relatively unknown label, popular in L.A. but nor really worn outside a small, charmed circle of ravers who liked the graphics and colours of the brand. This is a story that repeats itself each time say, a Sohail Khan, shows up wearing something hot off the fashion alleys of New York. The brand gets instantly devalued.It happened with True Religion, and J Brand jeans. And it happened over time with Gucci, Armani and the worst hit victim – Versace!! These brands have still to recover. Every second mechanic tinkering under your neighbour’s Porsche, wears Versace ( pronounced sweetly as WERE – SASE). Even the building watchmen who thoko smart salaams when in mufti, prefer Versace over other fakes…. Though, heaven help Ed, but I can see them switching loyalties rapidly.
So…. Why can’t Desi guys with means, be sensible and stick to desi gear? Why can’t they dress like Rahul Gandhi, for Chrissake??
Because they lack confidence.
Because they can’t be themselves.
Because they want desperately to be someone else …. Someone ‘cool’.
And nobody has told them that the coolest way to look is desi.
Not necessarily designer desi – just basic Fab India desi.
Our men look their sexiest in dhotis. Don’t believe me? Check out Shah Rukh Khan in a black dhoti, floating down the backwaters in Kerala with Preity Zinta. He has never looked better – before or since. And you can keep your six pack image of the star clad in shredded jeans and a wet shirt from ‘OMO’. Similarly, Akshay Kumar in the opening sequence of ‘Sinngh is Kinng’ (forgotten how many extra ‘g’s’ or ‘n’s’ there are in the title), looked just amazing in a long, pink khadi kurta worn over sloppy, non-designer jeans. This was inspired imaging, at once desi and super cool. His attackable chest is visible through the open, unbuttoned kurta (let’s not go further South – we know how much trouble that caused the guy!) made him look rugged and sexy, but not available and gigolo-ish. Most of our stars don’t get that distinction. You can look dishy, without providing the cutlery gratis.
Bollywood has gone brand-insane. The label consciousness and dependency has robbed actors of any individuality – they dress alike, look alike and talk alike. I miss the old rogues – those completely OTT guys who went out of their way to stand out… not conform, like today’s chaps. Remember Raaj (“Jaani’) Kumar, with his collection of carrot-coloured toupees and crazy velvet smoking jackets worn over breeches?? Or Pran, perennially clad in a maroon dressing gown? Dev Anand wearing impossibly high collared shirts ( maybe five of them, one over the other) under even higher collared jackets, topping the look with a cap at a rakish tilt over a well-constructed wig. Not forgetting the Isadora Duncan scarf, the broad belt and ankle length slacks ( shades of Michael Jackson). The late Feroz Khan, now being hailed as a style icon (how generous we are to the dead!), who invariably dressed like he was auditioning for a Spaghetti Western – a Clint Eastwood gone wrong. Come on, you guys… who wears a Stetson outside Texas? Feroz!! The Desi Cowboy rode into town from Bangalore and perpetually behaved like he was fighting Injuns in his backyard. Perhaps, he was!
Elvis had his blue suede shoes and our Jeetendra his shiney white ones. He loved his whites and still does. Along with Govinda and Mithun Chakraborthy, Jeetendra can get away with sartorial hara-kiri. These fellows are originals – bizarre, outlandish, scarey. But we still love them. Purple pants, yellow shirts, pink ties, green socks. Bring it on, brothers. Don’t ever get into the Dolce set. You don’t need to. Your fans love you just the way you are – disastrous but adorable. Leave the labels to the younger insecure set. Or be like John Abraham, who is happiest in nothing more fussy than snug swimming trunks. John The Butt has his fundamentals in place. He is the chilled out chappalwalla, who is so sure of himself he doesn’t feel the need to bother with dress codes.And being John, nobody reminds him. Salman has given a bad name to too many brands, so let’s leave him out of this. He is Salman. Cute and red hot. He is shirtless at the best of times, and so he should remain. It is only when he gets into designer clothes u wearthat one wants to scream, “Stylist!”
The bachchas on the block are B-O-R-I-N-G . I mean, Imran Khan does not have to wear rasta checks with Hanes undershirts at all times, surely?? Or that silly string tie? But he does! Shahid wears the same expression and outfit (can he not think beyond white shirts and jeans), but at least he looks like a regular insaan. Baby Bachchan is perpetually struggling with his weight, and often dresses like a maitre d’ – perhaps he thinks his height takes care of the details. No, honey, it really doesn’t. You cannot wear those strange dj’s with velvet lapels and hope to get away with it. That leaves Hritik Roshan. I’d say out of the lot, he shows some individuality, even if he does miss a fashion cue or two occasionally. He clearly loves his biceps as much as he loves Barbara. His shirt sleeves are rolled up tapori-style, no matter where and what.Royal purple sems to be his favourite colour ( a hangover from ‘Jodha Akbar’?). But it goes with his personality and I am sure Barbara loves it on him. Saif Ali Khan is frequently referred to as a Nawab who knows his style. I’d agree. Forget those bandanas for a moment ( even men have their bad hair days), but this Khan gets it right down to the last button.
My suggestion to all these wonderful men is simple – style is not about who or what you wear. It is about who you are when the lights are switched off. Once you figure that one out, everything else automatically falls into place. Jai Ho!

*********************************************************************************************

This appeared in the Asian Age over the weekend. As you can tell, I had fun writing it.

More fun than analysing the bloody budget ( the market's tanked).

Officially, the budget is supposed to be 'sensible and pro-growth'. But frankly, it is a huge letdown and most disappointing. Pranab Babu - between you and Mamatadi, we are screwed!

Filmi Fashion Faux Pas....

Sunday, July 5, 2009

New York - where Khan is King!

It was pouring horses, camels and elephants last night, but I was determined to catch 'New York' at a theatre closest to me ( Inox - best popcorn in the world). I ran into the multiplex looking like a wet rat... but then, everybody around me was drenched , too. At least I was wearing my favourite jumbo fake pearls and looking posh! From the very first opening sequence of the film, it was established that this was a class act. Some films manage to convey their superior content instantly with frame one itself. But even I wasn't prepared for what unfolded thereafter. Let's hand it to Kabir Khan - the guy's got it. In spades. He makes most of the other acclaimed Bollywood directors look like bumbling amateurs. Khan's movie is in a league of its own - what a terrific script, for starters. And what inspired casting. Who but Khan would have thought of John Abraham for that role AND extracted such a convincing performance out of the guy one associates with a tree stump?Katrina Kaif actually EMOTES in the movie - this is a miracle. Neil is good, but then Neil is an actor not a log of wood. However it is Irrfan Khan who beats all these stars hollow with his polished and superbly understated performance as an FBI agent with a difficult job to do, post 9\11 and the Twin Towers tragedy.
While on Irrfan, I remember him coming home to meet me with a dvd of his film 'The Warrior'. He was an unknown actor at the time, and I had seen him in a small budget hindi movie (forget the name) in which his performance had greatly impressed me. I had mentioned as much in a column, and he had called to thank me for recognising his effort. Over tea at the dining table, we had discussed movies - and our respective spouses - both Bongs!! That was years ago. Today, Irrfan is a star with several prestigious international projects. Like Om Puri, Anupam Kher and now Anil Kapoor, Irrfan will continue to get steady work overseas. These guys are professionals minus starry airs and silly egoes. They choose their projects well, make serious money, and move on. 'New York' is Irrfan's film all the way. And with its success two more Khans join the club of Bollywood superstars - take a bow, you guys - Kabir and Irrfan.
Aditya Chopra's taaras as producer are definitely changing. First 'New York', and now a charming film starring his lady love Rani Mukherjee ( playing a Sikh cricketer, turban- beard et al, believe it or not). Going by the teaser trailer, this one looks a winner, too. If only Shahid Kapoor would change his floppy hair!! Rani appears in terrific form and is looking barfi-sweet. Can't wait !
***********************************************************************************
It's been a great homecoming . I had three books waiting for me. One is from a BLOGDOST! Onyeka Nwelue's 'Abyssinian Boy' looks promising. I was so touched by the message. It reads : " Shobhaaji, your bravery transcends continents. I'm writing to you with love from Nigeria, West Africa, Africa, The World." Onyeka has been described by 'The Guardian' as a ''teenager with a steaming pen."
Margaret Mascarenhas is a friend who lives in Goa. This is her second book ( I loved 'Skin', her first). She is an American citizen of Goan origin who grew up in Venezuela. Her new book, " The Disappearance of Irene Dos Santos'' starts with a quotation: " It is better to die on your feet than to live on your knees." That sums up Margaret. She too has written a really affectionate message to me. It reads : " For Shobhaa, who has so often pulled me from the brink of becoming boringly earnest." Excuse me, while I weep.....
The third book is from Sai Paranjpye ( love this woman!). 'Rigmarole' is a set of three satirical plays set in contemporary India. She descibes them as " feel good plays."
I shall take all three books with me to Poland next week.
That is my way of letting you guys know I'll be on the move - yes, again!
I know, I know.... but hold the scolding. It's all for a good cause. More on that later.

Saturday, July 4, 2009

Paul the Bar Tender

I love Agony Uncle Bar Tenders. And on my recent cruise, I was lucky to bond with one such person. Paul was a larger than life Jamaican who'd been working the cruise ship circuit for 12 long years.Startlingly white teeth and a belly laugh made him a genial Father Confessor to countless lost souls nursing that last drink at 2 a.m before lurching off to their staterooms and calling it a night over choppy, alien waters - inviting by day, menacing at night.
My friend Judith and I discovered Paul just before the Cosmopolitan Club Bar on Deck 14 closed on the second night of our much anticipated cruise. We were sailing off the coast of Mallorca, and feeling really depressed about Michael Jackson's death. There was no getting away from MJ. His images were on every channel as tributes poured in from across the globe. We ordered a glass each of Pinot and cried into it . Paul who had been watching us with some amusement ( was our mascara running??) asked chattily what the matter was. Judith said, " We are feeling really, really sad that Michael Jackson is dead." Paul continued to polish a Cognac snifter as he replied philosophically, " Oh.... but he died a long, long time ago. A man who does not know who he is.... is dead already." We were stunned by his reaction and gulped down the vino very quickly. It was such an astute observation. Impressed by Paul's sagacity, we felt encouraged enough to discuss more personal matters. We both had young daughters giving us a hard time ( boy friend issues). After listening to us patiently, Paul asked, " Do you have a dog?" I joked, " I have something better - a gun." Paul shook his head, " That's no good, ma'am. A gun sleeps when you sleep. But a dog continues to work." By this time Judith and I had become Paul's bhakts - loyal devotees. "Oh Master.... tell us more," we begged. Paul strategised like a true professional. How the hell did this man know so much about life?? He smiled, "My mother gave birth to eleven kids I grew up in a tough and poor neighbourhood. I've seen it all... drugs, murders, robbing, drunks..."
We were his slaves by then. But the bar had to close. And we had to get back to those naughty daughters. They were sleeping like angels when we lurched into the cabin. One of them had the nerve to open an eye and demand cheekily, " Oooh.... seen the time?? So where were you ladies? Painting the town red?" I had neither the gun nor the dog to defend me. I sheepishly went to bed. Paul's laughter echoed in my ears. I want to start a fan club for him. Or at least name a cocktail in his honour. Jamaican rum with nariel paani. It's my way of saying, 'Thank you,' to an absolute gentleman who didn't move a muscle as two , slightly tipsy women poured out their silly little tales of teenage horror stories to him.Bless you, Paul!

Friday, July 3, 2009

Farewell Tyeb...

Tyeb Mehta died as quietly and discreetly as he had lived. Husainsaab was large hearted enough to acknowledge that Tyeb was indeed the definitive figurative painter of his time. M.F. Husain was Tyeb's friend, contemporary and admirer. I'd frequently meet them together at Pundole Art Gallery or at Husain's home, over kadak chai and art world gossip. No matter what Husainsaab may say now as a tribute to his late dost, I know how surprised he was when Tyeb's painting and not one of his own ,crossed the one million dollar mark at that historic Chritie's auction in New York ( a stunning triptych called Celebration). Husain's ego was a little bruised, but the shock was somewhat tempered by the thought that it was Tyeb and not some bratty upstart who'd beaten him to it. As always, it was the TOI'S Nina Martyris ( as quiet and discreet as Tyeb himself), who wrote a lyrical tribute to Mehta, sans the annoying intellectualisation that art critics feel obliged to indulge in. Such a shame that Husain won't be here to attend his friend's funeral and console Tyeb's widow Sakina. I am almost certain that Husain will express his grief via a canvas dedicated to Tyeb. I feel fortunate to have known Tyeb and lived with his dramatic work for several years.

********************************************************************************

I told my husband I'd rather be married to a gay guy than a straight man who 's a wife beater. He nodded in agreement as we both concluded it was time India grew up and accepted a few social realities. This was while watching the TV discussions on the issue after that historic judgement delivered by the bold and forward thinking Chief Justice A.P. Shah. While Celina Jaitley spoke sense ( she was clearly being prompted via text messages during Arnab's show, but what the hell - she played the messenger convincingly), could she not have dropped the blue contact lenses, fake lashes, crazy wig and caked make up? She wasn't shooting an item song.For someone pretty smart and articulate, Celina often gets it completely wrong when it comes to putting herself together for sober occasions . Nothing a clued -in stylist can't fix .... but fast, please!!

It was amusing to read Arjun Ramphal's carefully worded response to the judgement. We are all waiting to hear what SRK and Karan Johar have to say.... John Abraham has sweetly given his quotes. But there are countless other Bollywood guys whose reactions are going to be closely monitored, dissected and recycled. Comprenez??

Thursday, July 2, 2009

Back... and burning to go!

This is just to say a big and cheery, "Hello!" even though I'm feeling like the bottom of a bird cage. Let's put it another way - I'm all cruised out.
More travel stories later. But first, I came back to the great news about Section 377. To all my gay friends - let the party begin. Finally , India woke up and discovered the 21st century - at least when it comes to same sex relationships. It's a complex issue. Arnab wanted me to be on his panel tonight. But I was hopelessly jet lagged, had half a litre of coconut oil in my hair, and my mind was still in Paris .... for several reasons.
My 'holiday' ( definitely need another one to recover from this one) was exhilerating on many levels, but I can tell you that the ghastly news about MJ's death nearly ruined what could have been a picture perfect day in Genoa. I loved the Gloved One with all my heart, and when I heard the Motown guy paying his tribute on Larry King Live by stating what the world needs to acknowledge - " A Michael Jackson happens just once," my tears wouldn't stop. What an incredibly sad end for such an incredibly talented individual. Jackson was the second man in my life I'd uttered the words , " I love you," to. The three forbidden bon mots had slipped out spontaneously when I'd met him briefly ( a few pulse-stopping seconds) at a poolside dinner in Mumbai more than a decade ago. He'd whispered back ( on auto pilot, of course) , " I love you, too," and even though I knew it was a conditioned response to a fan, I'd BELIEVED him!!I'd shaken his gloveless hand , glared at the 7 feet gorillas (his minders) forming a protective ring around him, broken through a tight security cordon, and done what I had to do - declared my feelings unabashedly to a complete stranger - a ghost. It's a surrealistic moment I'll always cherish ,for MJ was not of this world. He was an angel. And he's back where he belongs. I'll say it once more with feeling, " I love you, Michael." Ummmm.... in case you want to know the identity of the other man who heard those words from my mouth.... sorry. Let that remain a secret I share just with him.