I just had to take a break from all that hypocritical rubbish on television right now. Especially Farouq Abdullah making the silliest, most sexist comments that had no relevance to the IPL controversy. He was all but drooling on Barkha's show when he talked about Sunanda and how beautiful she is.... like that took care of everything, including the sleaze factor. He was even sillier on Karan Thapar's show when he talked about the role of politicians who can make things happen 'rapidly' and open doors for people like Lalit Modi! Tell us about it! He claimed he was doing all this for the people of his state..... I left the room, unable to hear another idiotic word on the subject. At the time of posting this entry, Tharoor was still hanging in there but Sunanda had 'surrendered' her sweat equity ( some sacrifice ). Her lawyer in Dubai and Abdullah in studios conveyed that this great act of hers was enough to let her and her boy friend off the hook. It took a BJP lady to ask whether a thief is declared innocent if he\she returns what was stolen. Gosh.... the Indian Private League of 'chaalu' people is likely to dominate the news for a while to come, especially if Tharoor steps down tonight as expected. But that will not solve a thing!! Now that the can of worms has been pried open, let's go all the way .... nail all those biggies once and for all. Spare noone. Himmat hai sarkar ko?? Not a chance. Everybody has something on everyone else. The name of this game is blackmail.... with corruption going all the way to the top. ALL THE WAY!
Interesting to find out who planted those low intensity bombs in Bangalore. Sounds too amateurish to be the work of hard core terrorists. It appears to be the clumsy handiwork of people interested in distracting investigators and the public from core issues that are threatening to destroy the IPL itself. What a monster the game of cricket has become. Toba. Toba.
This column appeared today in the Sunday Times of India....
**************
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Friday, April 16, 2010
Bikki Oberoi rocks!!
I have known and interacted with Bikki Oberoi over the years and always found him an exceptionally charming man. I don't say this lightly for his is not a switched-on, 'society charm'. This soft spoken, dapper man has to walk into a room to take it over - yup - just like that. Effortlessly. And, mind you, he is a compact package, just over five feet in height. But you can't miss him . Even to this day, he works tirelessly for his hotels with the same level of energy, shrewdness and passion that once defined his legendary father, Rai Bahadur Oberoi's style of functioning.
So it was no surprise when he sent out a personalised invitation to announce the re-opening of his Mumbai hotel - the same one you probably saw on television screens when the 26\11 terrorists devastated the posh premises and killed several guests ( we lost five friends ourselves). What makes this invitation rather extraordinary is the genteel, discreet wording. Bikki isn't merely inviting his friends to a grand opening night party - oh no - been there, done that! He is inviting them to stay at his refurbished hotel - not just for that one magical night, but for as long as they like!!!!
How's that for class??
Is this a first in the luxurious world of international hospitality?
Wonder how many well-heeled invitees will take him up on this super extravagant offer???
I am tempted....
So it was no surprise when he sent out a personalised invitation to announce the re-opening of his Mumbai hotel - the same one you probably saw on television screens when the 26\11 terrorists devastated the posh premises and killed several guests ( we lost five friends ourselves). What makes this invitation rather extraordinary is the genteel, discreet wording. Bikki isn't merely inviting his friends to a grand opening night party - oh no - been there, done that! He is inviting them to stay at his refurbished hotel - not just for that one magical night, but for as long as they like!!!!
How's that for class??
Is this a first in the luxurious world of international hospitality?
Wonder how many well-heeled invitees will take him up on this super extravagant offer???
I am tempted....
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
The whole nine yards.....
Guys, I have just come back from watching the most thrilling cricket match where 'my' team won! Why my team? Well, I am a Mumbaikar, the Mumbai Indians are like a home team, they were playing in Mumbai, and the owners invited us to cheer. Simple! Not that I know too much about cricket's countless intricacies, but what I enjoy is the atmosphere. Today it was beyond electrifying and I am just so glad I kept my writing on hold to enjoy a few hours of pure, undiluted adrenaline. At one point, while watching the energetic Mumbai Indians' cheerleaders doing their thing with the pom poms, I turned to Mukesh Ambani and suggested a change in their routine and costume. Assuming the Mumbai Indians make it to the finals ( and they have a bloody good chance here), perhaps those comely blondes sporting the blue and gold colours of the team on their butts in outfits that are oh-so-predictable ( hot pants, athletic bras, gold boots), could switch gear and wear Maharashtra's original nine yard kashta saree with sexy cholis?? I can't think of a more sensual statement. Since the kashta saree is worn like a dhoti, through the legs, it won't hamper their energetic moves either - my recommendation for the dance routine is the local 'lavni' which is as raunchy as you can get without getting arrested. Mukesh LOVED the idea and said he would 'implement it' immediately. I genuinely believe cheerleaders clad in nine yard sarees ( they can keep those gold boots) and grooving to 'Aikka Dajiba' would be far hotter than these all- American chicks swinging to dated Bollywood hits
( " aaallllll eeeez welllll."). Well .... if the idea does get 'implemented' .... you know where it came from. I'll extract my pound of flesh from Mukesh through the totally yummy Delhi-style chaats he and Nita serve at their dinners.
Talking of food, apres- match, we came home to our standard Bong khaabar, but there was also a treat in store. Our lovely neighbour Amishi Dhanuka did it again!! Don't stop, I want to tell her. What did she do?? Amishi had sent the most subtle and exquisite 'sandesh' from Kolkata which we nibbled at and savoured tiny bits of, because it is just so precious. It is not your garden variety sandesh - it is sandesh from an old mishti maker, Girish Chandra Dey, whose family has been producing sandesh for gourmets since 1844. And I thought to myself - how silkily the French promote Fauchon - the world famous fine epicerie. Here we have Girish Chandra Dey, producing orgasmic sandesh flavoured with saffron stamen, cardamom, rose water and more. We take all this for granted and pay a pittance for such a refined culinary creation. I had the mad impulse to let the whole world know about this sandesh and how special it is - sigh - it's all about marketing, isn't it?
My husband told me to shut up and gorge. We were celebrating the Mumbai Indians win. That was the official excuse..... now for the finals. And more sandesh!!!!!
( " aaallllll eeeez welllll."). Well .... if the idea does get 'implemented' .... you know where it came from. I'll extract my pound of flesh from Mukesh through the totally yummy Delhi-style chaats he and Nita serve at their dinners.
Talking of food, apres- match, we came home to our standard Bong khaabar, but there was also a treat in store. Our lovely neighbour Amishi Dhanuka did it again!! Don't stop, I want to tell her. What did she do?? Amishi had sent the most subtle and exquisite 'sandesh' from Kolkata which we nibbled at and savoured tiny bits of, because it is just so precious. It is not your garden variety sandesh - it is sandesh from an old mishti maker, Girish Chandra Dey, whose family has been producing sandesh for gourmets since 1844. And I thought to myself - how silkily the French promote Fauchon - the world famous fine epicerie. Here we have Girish Chandra Dey, producing orgasmic sandesh flavoured with saffron stamen, cardamom, rose water and more. We take all this for granted and pay a pittance for such a refined culinary creation. I had the mad impulse to let the whole world know about this sandesh and how special it is - sigh - it's all about marketing, isn't it?
My husband told me to shut up and gorge. We were celebrating the Mumbai Indians win. That was the official excuse..... now for the finals. And more sandesh!!!!!
Monday, April 12, 2010
The De of the Penguin......
When I say last week went by in a happy blur that had nothing to do with the glasses of vintage bubbly consumed, you'd better believe it! It was an important week in my life. And 9th April, an important day. As my friend Rashmi Uday Singh put it on a clever cake she produced - it was the 'De of the Penguin." Not sure how many people got the pun ( how many of you remember 'The Day of the Jackal'?) - but I was totally delighted and didn't really want to cut that terrific chocolate cake in the shape of a book which had the world famous Penguin Books logo on the cover. This was at the celebratory party thrown by John Makinson, the Chairman of Penguin Books, who'd flown in from London to announce the creation of a new imprint - The Shobhaa De Book. Yup. It is considered big deal in the world of international publishing. And it is most certainly a first. So....you can pardon me for bragging just this once. I am on a high. It is every writer's dream to be a Penguin author someday. It was mine, too. It came true . And now, I'll be in the publisher's chair myself!! Full circle .... or what???? I call it 'redocking with the mothership'. Ever since the announcement, closet writers have been crawling out of the woodwork and bombarding me with manuscripts. Of course,there is a story in everyone. But .... hold on.... it's all in the telling, right??
In case you guys are interested in checking out the coverage, our Blogdost Aparna, has very kindly located a few links and posted them in Comments. It was a great party, even if I say so myself. The mogras on my right wrist added to the fragrance....
***************
This appeared in Bombay Times today....
Has Goa lost its groove.....??
I received a call from one of the many bored wives who’d accompanied their husbands to the just concluded Goafest. She was cooped up in her room and wondering what to do with her time. The weather was beastly….and so was her mood. Aw come on, I said – nobody gets bored in Goa. Well, guess what?? These days people do!There are enough old Goa addicts sheepishly confessing that they are done with the beaches and boozing. Goa is no longer the glamourous, gorgeous getaway it once used to be. So…. what happened? Nobody can quite put their finger on when exactly Brand Goa got tarnished, but it would make a fascinating case study for those in the business of deconstructing brands – we need to get to the bottom of the story. Brands are such delicate and slippery commodities – people take years and years to build them, and boom – something slips, and the party’s over almost as soon as it started.
I was thinking of this in the context of three sports personalities – Sania, Tiger Woods and Michael Schumacher .The ‘Shonia’ saga has cost the newly minted Mrs. Malik two major brand endorsements. After all the naach gaana is over, and izzat-honour debates are done with, Sania will be carefully assessed for what she represents in the popular imagination. As of now, her ratings have taken a nosedive. Getting back into the game is not going to be easy. What sort of options does that leave a young woman, who has still to hit her thirties ? While I realize not everybody can be Saint Tendulkar, and lead a blemish free existence , most sports personalities are acutely aware of their limited shelf life and smartly cash in on the big bucks when the going is good. Sachin’s graph in this regard is exceptional by any standards. He started at the top and has remained there, with nobody even close to him in terms of stature. If Sania’s tennis itself is shakey, what is she left with…. what does she do next? Become a sports entrepreneur? Why not? She is sassy, sexy and feisty. I think she should have her own television show – and not restrict it to tennis alone. That would be the smartest way of leveraging her current brand – a bit of defiance, a generous amount of attitude ,loads of chutzpah, and a sharp tongue. A great package for a made-for-television personality. We could do with a few brats out there, in place of pontificating, pompous anchors who bellow and bully their way through shows.
Tiger Woods ki kahani is very different. His swing will have to do all the talking – and it had better talk championships. I am not sure if his shrewd minders were all that smart when they advised him to apologise publicly and go down the “ I am so ashamed of myself road.” He is a sports stud, for God’s sake – not a priest ( ooops – wrong analogy at this point). Whatever happened in the Woods’ marriage should have remained a miya-biwi affair. He needed to beg his wife’s forgiveness – not the world’s. Well, his endorsements will start rolling in once he holds a few major trophies aloft. He knows it. His minders know it, too. Besides, men are judged by an entirely different yardstick . Female athletes\personalities always have it tougher. Ho hum ….. so what else is new??
That leaves Schumi. And I can’t help but think about Madhuri Dixit. Why Madhuri?? Oh…. it’s the big comeback story. Never a good idea for superstars. When they leave at the height of their success – they should stick to the decision. Legends remain legends if they time their exits right. Schumacher has devalued his enviable positioning by signing up for a new season, when clearly he has lost his mojo. Just like Goa. Aaaah – that word. Mojo. It’s like lycra – either you have it or you don’t.
In case you guys are interested in checking out the coverage, our Blogdost Aparna, has very kindly located a few links and posted them in Comments. It was a great party, even if I say so myself. The mogras on my right wrist added to the fragrance....
***************
This appeared in Bombay Times today....
Has Goa lost its groove.....??
I received a call from one of the many bored wives who’d accompanied their husbands to the just concluded Goafest. She was cooped up in her room and wondering what to do with her time. The weather was beastly….and so was her mood. Aw come on, I said – nobody gets bored in Goa. Well, guess what?? These days people do!There are enough old Goa addicts sheepishly confessing that they are done with the beaches and boozing. Goa is no longer the glamourous, gorgeous getaway it once used to be. So…. what happened? Nobody can quite put their finger on when exactly Brand Goa got tarnished, but it would make a fascinating case study for those in the business of deconstructing brands – we need to get to the bottom of the story. Brands are such delicate and slippery commodities – people take years and years to build them, and boom – something slips, and the party’s over almost as soon as it started.
I was thinking of this in the context of three sports personalities – Sania, Tiger Woods and Michael Schumacher .The ‘Shonia’ saga has cost the newly minted Mrs. Malik two major brand endorsements. After all the naach gaana is over, and izzat-honour debates are done with, Sania will be carefully assessed for what she represents in the popular imagination. As of now, her ratings have taken a nosedive. Getting back into the game is not going to be easy. What sort of options does that leave a young woman, who has still to hit her thirties ? While I realize not everybody can be Saint Tendulkar, and lead a blemish free existence , most sports personalities are acutely aware of their limited shelf life and smartly cash in on the big bucks when the going is good. Sachin’s graph in this regard is exceptional by any standards. He started at the top and has remained there, with nobody even close to him in terms of stature. If Sania’s tennis itself is shakey, what is she left with…. what does she do next? Become a sports entrepreneur? Why not? She is sassy, sexy and feisty. I think she should have her own television show – and not restrict it to tennis alone. That would be the smartest way of leveraging her current brand – a bit of defiance, a generous amount of attitude ,loads of chutzpah, and a sharp tongue. A great package for a made-for-television personality. We could do with a few brats out there, in place of pontificating, pompous anchors who bellow and bully their way through shows.
Tiger Woods ki kahani is very different. His swing will have to do all the talking – and it had better talk championships. I am not sure if his shrewd minders were all that smart when they advised him to apologise publicly and go down the “ I am so ashamed of myself road.” He is a sports stud, for God’s sake – not a priest ( ooops – wrong analogy at this point). Whatever happened in the Woods’ marriage should have remained a miya-biwi affair. He needed to beg his wife’s forgiveness – not the world’s. Well, his endorsements will start rolling in once he holds a few major trophies aloft. He knows it. His minders know it, too. Besides, men are judged by an entirely different yardstick . Female athletes\personalities always have it tougher. Ho hum ….. so what else is new??
That leaves Schumi. And I can’t help but think about Madhuri Dixit. Why Madhuri?? Oh…. it’s the big comeback story. Never a good idea for superstars. When they leave at the height of their success – they should stick to the decision. Legends remain legends if they time their exits right. Schumacher has devalued his enviable positioning by signing up for a new season, when clearly he has lost his mojo. Just like Goa. Aaaah – that word. Mojo. It’s like lycra – either you have it or you don’t.
Monday, April 5, 2010
So, who's the liar??Yawn Yawn - not Sania-Shoaib again!!!
I swear this is it!! No matter what happens! Ayesha can opt for a sex change, Sania and Shoaib can elope in order to escape this tamasha, Sania can fuel rumours she is preggers. Or an ex-boyfriend of Ms. Mirza can emerge from the woodwork bellowing, " Yeh shaadi nahi ho sakti !" But I am done!The story has been flogged to death and there is nothing more left to peddle. Even the Thackerays have pulled out. Yup. It is that dead and dull.
Khair, we can keep our 'Mubarak ho' on hold for now.
Obama is officially Black. Tiger Woods remains in the dog house. And the IPL bores me.
For whatever it is worth.... read on....
********************
My fiction writer’s mind is in overdrive. This is one story that cannot be topped by even the most enthu Bollywood script writer . It has enough masala in every twist to keep the masses ( and asses) salivating for more. Nothing gets readers and viewers as fired up as a salacious story involving young, good looking, affluent celebs. And if one of them ( guess who?) has loads of attitude to boot – wow!! The media has got itself a whopper of a winner. Sania-Shoaib ka gadbad ghotala has been front page news for days. And it is also the number one breaking news story on every channel, never mind the horrific rape of an MBA graduate in Pune. At the time of writing everyone including his uncle, aunt and neighbour , had been interviewed - from Lahore, Sialkot, Hyderabad and beyond. There were Sania sightings on the balcony of her Hyderabad villa. And we had been treated to theories galore, culled from available information. But despite the bombardment on all fronts, one thing is still unclear – who is the liar in this drama?? And above all – who is Ayesha?
I may be in a minority of one on this, but I am pretty sure Shoaib was misled at some point. The girl he thought he was marrying ( and he definitely did marry someone in this rather bizarre episode) may not have been the girl he thought he was in love with. Chances are, he met two girls ( Ayesha and Maha), fell for one, but accidentally married the other! Sounds absurd, but given the craziness of this entire set up, it is also possible. Somehow, and this may sound cruel, I cannot see a handsome, ambitious Pakistani cricketer falling for the rather plain looking, overweight girl - the same one we have been watching on television. These guys have the world’s best looking females throwing themselves at them. Why would he settle for someone like her, that too when his career was rocking, unless there was a catch in the story? I listened with interest as his brother- in- law Imran from Lahore, patiently and politely took viewers through the rigmarole, while Ayesha’s mother wept hysterically on Arnab’s show. Imran maintained that the girl who wooed Shoaib over the phone and internet, was in fact, not the same girl he’d flipped for in person, but her clever friend. He also said that the two or three times Shoaib went to Hyderabad to meet his bride-to-be, she was never there! And the family would come up with some lame excuse ( she had to leave town suddenly, she was in hospital undergoing surgery, she was in some other city on work) and distract Shoaib. Assuming Shoaib really and truly fell for this ruse, he must be one hell of a dumbo. And if he is such a dumbo, why is Sania the Smartie, marrying such a guy? Can’t be for the money ( she has much more), can’t be for the fame ( she is way ahead in the fame stakes), then why? Aaha – she has fallen for his boyish, good looks and rakish sex appeal. That’s it! She’s a woman in love, and as we all know, a woman in love will do anything… defend a scoundrel, stand by the fellow and agree to marry him, even though he may be married to someone else.
The date’s set. The wedding is on. Unless something changes between now and the 15th of April. Something significant and dramatic. Unless the real Ayesha turns up. The one Shoaib fell in love with. In which case, what will his current wife do??? Oh my God. This is getting a bit too complicated even for me. Must be the heat. I think I’ll go cool off and watch some cricket – oops, wrong game. Too many maidens getting bowled over.
Khair, we can keep our 'Mubarak ho' on hold for now.
Obama is officially Black. Tiger Woods remains in the dog house. And the IPL bores me.
For whatever it is worth.... read on....
********************
My fiction writer’s mind is in overdrive. This is one story that cannot be topped by even the most enthu Bollywood script writer . It has enough masala in every twist to keep the masses ( and asses) salivating for more. Nothing gets readers and viewers as fired up as a salacious story involving young, good looking, affluent celebs. And if one of them ( guess who?) has loads of attitude to boot – wow!! The media has got itself a whopper of a winner. Sania-Shoaib ka gadbad ghotala has been front page news for days. And it is also the number one breaking news story on every channel, never mind the horrific rape of an MBA graduate in Pune. At the time of writing everyone including his uncle, aunt and neighbour , had been interviewed - from Lahore, Sialkot, Hyderabad and beyond. There were Sania sightings on the balcony of her Hyderabad villa. And we had been treated to theories galore, culled from available information. But despite the bombardment on all fronts, one thing is still unclear – who is the liar in this drama?? And above all – who is Ayesha?
I may be in a minority of one on this, but I am pretty sure Shoaib was misled at some point. The girl he thought he was marrying ( and he definitely did marry someone in this rather bizarre episode) may not have been the girl he thought he was in love with. Chances are, he met two girls ( Ayesha and Maha), fell for one, but accidentally married the other! Sounds absurd, but given the craziness of this entire set up, it is also possible. Somehow, and this may sound cruel, I cannot see a handsome, ambitious Pakistani cricketer falling for the rather plain looking, overweight girl - the same one we have been watching on television. These guys have the world’s best looking females throwing themselves at them. Why would he settle for someone like her, that too when his career was rocking, unless there was a catch in the story? I listened with interest as his brother- in- law Imran from Lahore, patiently and politely took viewers through the rigmarole, while Ayesha’s mother wept hysterically on Arnab’s show. Imran maintained that the girl who wooed Shoaib over the phone and internet, was in fact, not the same girl he’d flipped for in person, but her clever friend. He also said that the two or three times Shoaib went to Hyderabad to meet his bride-to-be, she was never there! And the family would come up with some lame excuse ( she had to leave town suddenly, she was in hospital undergoing surgery, she was in some other city on work) and distract Shoaib. Assuming Shoaib really and truly fell for this ruse, he must be one hell of a dumbo. And if he is such a dumbo, why is Sania the Smartie, marrying such a guy? Can’t be for the money ( she has much more), can’t be for the fame ( she is way ahead in the fame stakes), then why? Aaha – she has fallen for his boyish, good looks and rakish sex appeal. That’s it! She’s a woman in love, and as we all know, a woman in love will do anything… defend a scoundrel, stand by the fellow and agree to marry him, even though he may be married to someone else.
The date’s set. The wedding is on. Unless something changes between now and the 15th of April. Something significant and dramatic. Unless the real Ayesha turns up. The one Shoaib fell in love with. In which case, what will his current wife do??? Oh my God. This is getting a bit too complicated even for me. Must be the heat. I think I’ll go cool off and watch some cricket – oops, wrong game. Too many maidens getting bowled over.
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Lambey Race ka Ghoda.....!
Happy Easter! I had a traditional Easter feast at Alex and Namita Kuruvilla's art filled home, and gorged on the hard to resist culinary treats in an entirely unladylike manner. How can one not attack the typical Syrian Christian cuisine of Kerala ( dry beef is Alex's speciality)? Combine that with piping hot aapams from the griddle, dipped into a steaming chicken eshtew ... Oh god!! Stop me, someone! You get the story? It was the most perfect way to spend such a special sunday. Especially since Alex and Namita are such laid back, warm and chilled out hosts.
I pounced on the latest swimsuit issue of Vogue India ( Alex heads it ), and trust me when I say this - summer and white bikinis have never looked better! The theme is subtle but strong - 'The Dawn of Dusk' the magazine boldly states on the cover which features India's top models - not just any models - these are the ones who happen to possess the most delectable honey gold skin. In other words, these gorgeous ladies do not fall into the 'Fair and Lovely' mould - thank God! The entire issue celebrates dusky skin without any kind of overstatement or cheesy emphasis. This is really a big one for Vogue - a bold step to announce the arrival of dusky on the fashion front, after years of worshipping pale! Well done Alex!
I strongly recommend you go check this one out for yourself - it may just become a collector's item.
***************
And here's my Sunday Times column.
For my take on Sania-Shoaib, you'll have to wait till tomorrow. Watch this space!
************
Dubai’s Sheikh Mo is a ‘lambey race ka ghoda’…
“ A man has two choices, either to be a follower or to show initiative… we greatly desire to be pioneers.”
Thus stated Mohammed bin Rashid Al Makhtoum, Vice President and Prime Minister of the UAE,Ruler of Dubai.It was a clear and strong message – Dubai is open for business. Again. And if bail out partners, Abu Dhabi, are getting over ambitious, whoa, Sheikh Mo still has the best thoroughbreds and jockeys. He is certainly not in the mood to rein them in or hand over the Derby winnings. The jackpot remains in Dubai. And what better venue for a coming out party than the recently opened $ 1.5 billion race course complex? Sheikh Mo was in full flow as he welcomed 500 celebrities from across the globe for the priciest horse racing event on earth – the Dubai World Cup, where the prize money was a staggering $ 10 million ( the Brazilian winners went home a deliriously happy couple after their filly Gloria de Campeao won by a nose). But what left the generally hard-to-impress guests gasping was Sheikh Mo’s legendary hospitality. He had pulled out all the stops – with good reason. It was time for Depressed Dubai to reassure disheartened investors that ‘aaal eeez welll,” in the desert kingdom… the money is about to start rolling in once more, and hello!! Who said anything about those trendy sheesha bars shutting down?? Sure, building activity is not happening and the day-and-night cranes have stopped whirring, but wait a minute, Sheikh Mo has a thing or two to say about the future.
Protocol is protocol, even if you are a Russian oligarch. And the instructions were perfectly clear . You don’t talk to Sheikh Mo – Sheikh Mo talks to you. And when he does, you make sure to address him as ‘Your Highness’ ( he isn’t royalty, and comes from Bedouin stock , but so what, he’s the mighty ruler, remember?). But if his lovely wife, Princess Haya favours you with an audience, make sure she is addressed as ‘Your Royal Highness ,” ( she is legit royalty from neighbouring Jordan). Nobody was taking chances – these tips came as written instructions in a neat folder. The impressive Chinese delegation seemed bewildered ( peasants are not supposed to acknowledge such proletariat issues), but the Japanese could be spotted cheerfully bowing away to every dish dash that passed. It was obvious that there was a clever strategy behind the super lavish, shrewdly marketed weekend that saw British royals ( Prince Andrew , better known as Randy Andy) and Liz Hurley ( dressed like a lemon sherbet, and equally refreshing), besides business and media czars from everywhere, who were treated to a Phantom of their own to chauffeur them around. Sheikh Mo made his agenda abundantly clear during an informal speech on the beach ( interrupted by his own cell phone ringing loudly over the p.a. system). He talked about people standing by him during good times and bad, (“ You remember those who support you when things are down” – we hear you brother!), adding significantly that Dubai continues to value its independence, its cultural identity, its special position, and is not about to surrender or sell out There are leaders and leaders, he reminded the audience, but only one remains number one – “ because number two does not exist.” Wow! If there were VVIPs from Abu Dhabi present, they must have been hiding behind the camels.
Later, as he strolled hand-in-hand with his favourite wife ( same lady – Princess Haya), he once again sent out a message that wasn’t lost in translation – Dubai will remain the L.A. of this volatile region – a chilled out place for good timers to have an even better time ( alcohol service was not suspended during his address). The focus will remain on attracting international high rollers ready to put their money where their fun is. All that nonsense about banning wine in French cuisine, imposing bans on PDA s or implementing unrealistic dress codes, will be tossed out of the window, just in case Abu Dhabi was getting ideas. Oh…. about those innumerable abandoned buildings ( crazily overbuilt in the first place – there are enough empty apartments in Dubai to house half of Shanghai and all of Mumbai), the people will come. Or that’s the Dubai Dream. Meanwhile, Abu Dhabi can model itself on Washington and become a political\cultural hub with an emphasis on education and mushrooming museums. Dubai will remain the desired destination for heavy duty, non-stop partying – the Middle East’s answer to Las Vegas. And if the tallest, swankiest building in the world – the Burj Khalifa – has had to be renamed in order to appease Abu Dhabi, it doesn’t matter. After all, it still stands in Dubai, where everything is bigger and brighter.
Nearly sixty thousand people watched that nail biting finish at the Dubai World Cup from those state of the art stands that are true architectural marvels. Heaven knows how many million across the globe watched the race (and the spectacular closing ceremony) over television. After the well synchronized fireworks, there were top class performances by Elton John and Carlos Santana. It was total paisa vasool – even if you didn’t win a dirham. That’s entertainment. That’s also brilliant P.R. As image building, morale boosting exercises go, this one is hard to beat .
Who says Dubai is broke??
Maybe we should hire Sheikh Mo for the Commonwealth Games in Delhi???
I pounced on the latest swimsuit issue of Vogue India ( Alex heads it ), and trust me when I say this - summer and white bikinis have never looked better! The theme is subtle but strong - 'The Dawn of Dusk' the magazine boldly states on the cover which features India's top models - not just any models - these are the ones who happen to possess the most delectable honey gold skin. In other words, these gorgeous ladies do not fall into the 'Fair and Lovely' mould - thank God! The entire issue celebrates dusky skin without any kind of overstatement or cheesy emphasis. This is really a big one for Vogue - a bold step to announce the arrival of dusky on the fashion front, after years of worshipping pale! Well done Alex!
I strongly recommend you go check this one out for yourself - it may just become a collector's item.
***************
And here's my Sunday Times column.
For my take on Sania-Shoaib, you'll have to wait till tomorrow. Watch this space!
************
Dubai’s Sheikh Mo is a ‘lambey race ka ghoda’…
“ A man has two choices, either to be a follower or to show initiative… we greatly desire to be pioneers.”
Thus stated Mohammed bin Rashid Al Makhtoum, Vice President and Prime Minister of the UAE,Ruler of Dubai.It was a clear and strong message – Dubai is open for business. Again. And if bail out partners, Abu Dhabi, are getting over ambitious, whoa, Sheikh Mo still has the best thoroughbreds and jockeys. He is certainly not in the mood to rein them in or hand over the Derby winnings. The jackpot remains in Dubai. And what better venue for a coming out party than the recently opened $ 1.5 billion race course complex? Sheikh Mo was in full flow as he welcomed 500 celebrities from across the globe for the priciest horse racing event on earth – the Dubai World Cup, where the prize money was a staggering $ 10 million ( the Brazilian winners went home a deliriously happy couple after their filly Gloria de Campeao won by a nose). But what left the generally hard-to-impress guests gasping was Sheikh Mo’s legendary hospitality. He had pulled out all the stops – with good reason. It was time for Depressed Dubai to reassure disheartened investors that ‘aaal eeez welll,” in the desert kingdom… the money is about to start rolling in once more, and hello!! Who said anything about those trendy sheesha bars shutting down?? Sure, building activity is not happening and the day-and-night cranes have stopped whirring, but wait a minute, Sheikh Mo has a thing or two to say about the future.
Protocol is protocol, even if you are a Russian oligarch. And the instructions were perfectly clear . You don’t talk to Sheikh Mo – Sheikh Mo talks to you. And when he does, you make sure to address him as ‘Your Highness’ ( he isn’t royalty, and comes from Bedouin stock , but so what, he’s the mighty ruler, remember?). But if his lovely wife, Princess Haya favours you with an audience, make sure she is addressed as ‘Your Royal Highness ,” ( she is legit royalty from neighbouring Jordan). Nobody was taking chances – these tips came as written instructions in a neat folder. The impressive Chinese delegation seemed bewildered ( peasants are not supposed to acknowledge such proletariat issues), but the Japanese could be spotted cheerfully bowing away to every dish dash that passed. It was obvious that there was a clever strategy behind the super lavish, shrewdly marketed weekend that saw British royals ( Prince Andrew , better known as Randy Andy) and Liz Hurley ( dressed like a lemon sherbet, and equally refreshing), besides business and media czars from everywhere, who were treated to a Phantom of their own to chauffeur them around. Sheikh Mo made his agenda abundantly clear during an informal speech on the beach ( interrupted by his own cell phone ringing loudly over the p.a. system). He talked about people standing by him during good times and bad, (“ You remember those who support you when things are down” – we hear you brother!), adding significantly that Dubai continues to value its independence, its cultural identity, its special position, and is not about to surrender or sell out There are leaders and leaders, he reminded the audience, but only one remains number one – “ because number two does not exist.” Wow! If there were VVIPs from Abu Dhabi present, they must have been hiding behind the camels.
Later, as he strolled hand-in-hand with his favourite wife ( same lady – Princess Haya), he once again sent out a message that wasn’t lost in translation – Dubai will remain the L.A. of this volatile region – a chilled out place for good timers to have an even better time ( alcohol service was not suspended during his address). The focus will remain on attracting international high rollers ready to put their money where their fun is. All that nonsense about banning wine in French cuisine, imposing bans on PDA s or implementing unrealistic dress codes, will be tossed out of the window, just in case Abu Dhabi was getting ideas. Oh…. about those innumerable abandoned buildings ( crazily overbuilt in the first place – there are enough empty apartments in Dubai to house half of Shanghai and all of Mumbai), the people will come. Or that’s the Dubai Dream. Meanwhile, Abu Dhabi can model itself on Washington and become a political\cultural hub with an emphasis on education and mushrooming museums. Dubai will remain the desired destination for heavy duty, non-stop partying – the Middle East’s answer to Las Vegas. And if the tallest, swankiest building in the world – the Burj Khalifa – has had to be renamed in order to appease Abu Dhabi, it doesn’t matter. After all, it still stands in Dubai, where everything is bigger and brighter.
Nearly sixty thousand people watched that nail biting finish at the Dubai World Cup from those state of the art stands that are true architectural marvels. Heaven knows how many million across the globe watched the race (and the spectacular closing ceremony) over television. After the well synchronized fireworks, there were top class performances by Elton John and Carlos Santana. It was total paisa vasool – even if you didn’t win a dirham. That’s entertainment. That’s also brilliant P.R. As image building, morale boosting exercises go, this one is hard to beat .
Who says Dubai is broke??
Maybe we should hire Sheikh Mo for the Commonwealth Games in Delhi???
Thursday, April 1, 2010
Goodbye to a good soul....
I have just come back from a 'Besana'. For those who may not know what a 'Besana' is, let me tell you just one thing - it is perhaps the most healing and comforting post-funeral ritual whichever culture you compare it to. A traditional 'Besana' involves the entire community, which gathers together to comfort the family of the deceased. In this case, it was still more poignant since the person whose sudden death we were there to mourn ,was just 30 years old. It gets worse. He had taken his own life. After leaving a sweet and loving letter for his mother. So.... if the letter was sweet and loving, why did he do it? Because he could no longer live the life of someone suffering from a bipolar condition. He was done with the heavy medication and the abrupt mood swings that typify this syndrome. He wanted out.
What was extraordinary about this particular 'Besana' was the turnout. He was not a 'somebody' , not a celeb.... not even a celeb son. He was just a very loveable, very troubled young man who touched people's hearts with his simplicity and guilessness. A pure soul. An innocent human being . A person without a trace of malice. People adored him. People forgave him . Even when he drove them mad with his unpredictable behaviour.
I watched his mother dealing with the endless stream of mourners who had thronged to the venue to pay their last respects.... the hall was overflowing ( I had to stand outside, along with fifty others ), and his closest friends who'd been watching the IPL matches with him a few hours before he decided to end it all, were reading out tributes in choked voices, tears streaming down their faces, their complete puzzlement evident to everyone( why did he have to do it?). The framed picture said a lot - he was smiling happily in it, as if teasing fate. His older brother kept shaking his head in disbelief, wondering whether they had failed him in some way.
No they hadn't.
They had loved him in the only way they knew. And that was enough.
But try telling that to a devastated mother who could only recall their last conversation and ask herself why she hadn't sensed something terrible was about to happen...
I held her closely for a long, long time. And let her cry.
And when I left the venue..... I knew she would heal. Because that is what traditional 'Besanas' are for. Grieving and healing.Unlike 'Wakes' in the West, which are silent and solemn affairs, here in India, it is okay to cry openly, to express the grief you are feeling in your heart, to hug strangers and seek comfort, to converse compulsively about the person who has died, even to laugh at some of the memories. Emotions are there to be expressed, not suppressed. Sorrow is there to be shared , not buried. And the memory of the person is meant to remain as fresh as the flower garlands adorning the portrait of the deceased, as fragrant as the incense burning slowly through the long proceedings.
I looked at the beautifully turned out Gujarati ladies in crisp organdie sarees, their delicate ear lobes curling slightly with the weight of flawless solitaires. I looked again at the shell -shocked mother who had tragically lost her most precious, most priceless jewel.
Farewell darling 'N'. We will always love and miss you...
It is going to be a long and lonely night....
What was extraordinary about this particular 'Besana' was the turnout. He was not a 'somebody' , not a celeb.... not even a celeb son. He was just a very loveable, very troubled young man who touched people's hearts with his simplicity and guilessness. A pure soul. An innocent human being . A person without a trace of malice. People adored him. People forgave him . Even when he drove them mad with his unpredictable behaviour.
I watched his mother dealing with the endless stream of mourners who had thronged to the venue to pay their last respects.... the hall was overflowing ( I had to stand outside, along with fifty others ), and his closest friends who'd been watching the IPL matches with him a few hours before he decided to end it all, were reading out tributes in choked voices, tears streaming down their faces, their complete puzzlement evident to everyone( why did he have to do it?). The framed picture said a lot - he was smiling happily in it, as if teasing fate. His older brother kept shaking his head in disbelief, wondering whether they had failed him in some way.
No they hadn't.
They had loved him in the only way they knew. And that was enough.
But try telling that to a devastated mother who could only recall their last conversation and ask herself why she hadn't sensed something terrible was about to happen...
I held her closely for a long, long time. And let her cry.
And when I left the venue..... I knew she would heal. Because that is what traditional 'Besanas' are for. Grieving and healing.Unlike 'Wakes' in the West, which are silent and solemn affairs, here in India, it is okay to cry openly, to express the grief you are feeling in your heart, to hug strangers and seek comfort, to converse compulsively about the person who has died, even to laugh at some of the memories. Emotions are there to be expressed, not suppressed. Sorrow is there to be shared , not buried. And the memory of the person is meant to remain as fresh as the flower garlands adorning the portrait of the deceased, as fragrant as the incense burning slowly through the long proceedings.
I looked at the beautifully turned out Gujarati ladies in crisp organdie sarees, their delicate ear lobes curling slightly with the weight of flawless solitaires. I looked again at the shell -shocked mother who had tragically lost her most precious, most priceless jewel.
Farewell darling 'N'. We will always love and miss you...
It is going to be a long and lonely night....
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