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?