Besharam Coach!!!

Guys, I love your enthusiasm for pics and all that, but it takes a lot of time! These may turn out to be the final few. At least from Sri Lanka. Let me give you a quick low down on each: I love Ginger flowers - and they grow in profusion all over Sri Lanka. This lot was at the entrance of Taprobane. The grater below is just that - but look closely. That's shark skin you see, not holes. It is a wasabi root grater, and one of Chef Darshan's prized kitchen implements at the super chic 'Nihonbasi' restaurant he runs in central Colombo. An accomplished and inspired chef, he recently hosted 'the world's most expensive sashimi ' event. What made his raw fish all that pricey? Well... he had studded the fish slivers with precious gems! When was the last time you bit into rubies?? That's Chef Darshan himself, with Arundhati and me. The tempting lobster is not his creation. This was what I ordered at 1864, at the special dinner organised by Sanjeev and Surekha Gardiner. And finally, there's the shot of our chopper balanced precariously on the edge of the sea where Topgun Ravi had deftly landed the bird . The view from 10,000 feet above sea level is predictably breathtaking. And don't you just love those hand painted stools?? I wish I had the magnificent images of the historic Keyts' murals inside the family temple built by the Periera family. Those wonderful murals depict the life of Gautama Buddha, and we were lucky to see them, thanks to the benevolence of the monks who unlocked the temple gates and allowed us in. Shyamalee is not known as 'Highness' for nothing!!

It’s time to chuck de Kaushik and Hockey India…


“ Do you have sex?” asked the veteran hockey coach of India’s women’s team. The startled and scared female player at the receiving end of this obnoxious question was stunned into silence. Poet Anasuya Dutt had captured the emotional trauma of women caught in this particular player’s unfortunate position most evocatively when she wrote, “ In too many countries, too many women speak the same language – of silence.” Collective silence it was that protected Maharaj Kumar Kaushik, the disgraced coach ,for years. But last week he was forced to step down, after top player Ranjita Kumar broke that awful silence and accused him of sexual harassment . Her letter to Narendra Batra, the secretary of Hockey India was signed by 31 members, who are standing by the oppressed athlete. Three key allegations have been made against this arrogant man who must have been counting on the clout of his undeserved but exalted position to see him through the mess. More than even that, he must have been counting on silence. Women in traditional societies have silence as their best friend – it is their only succour and refuge. “Hold your tongue, woman!” is a phrase that young women hear over and over again while growing up…. no matter what the provocation. Incest, rape, molestation…her instructions are clear – shut up and put up.
Ranjita would have ended up as yet another victim of this man’s ungentlemanly conduct, had an anonymous letter about his despicable language not made its way to officials. A letter that mentioned Ranjita by name. It was the only way to nail the guy. Confronted and cornered, he did what countless men in positions of power ( limited or otherwise) do , he tried to turn the tables on the women he had tormented by accusing them of using this tactic to get even with him. Why? Because they were dropped from the team for not being good enough. It’s an old and familiar trick adopted by rakes the world over – blame the woman, make her badnaam, disgrace her in front of family and friends, shred her reputation, ruin her future. It’s easy – she is a soft target. She has everything to lose. Most times, the man has nothing at stake – not even his reputation or job. After all, even his superiors would understand – he’s a man. These things happen. And as Kaushik demonstrated over the years, a man can and does get away with vulgar, offensive, sexually charged statements. Kaushik allegedly declared during his team’s tour to New Zealand in 2003, “ Anyone interested in sex, can come to me.” It’s an allegation he vehemently rubbishes. Instead, he whines about this being a nasty campaign to malign his ‘good name’, because he didn’t allow players to use mobile phones! Aha – now we know the real villain of the piece – it’s the banned mobile phone!
There are thousands of Kaushiks running around the world nonchalantly . Some time ago, we had a phony ‘Godman’ called Swami Nityananda whose pornographic sex tapes with a Tamil heroine, cut short his meteoric rise to the top of the spiritual merchandising rankings. Today, this man has brazenly and shamelessly turned the scandal around to boast, “ The internet has twice experienced major jams due to traffic. One was following the death of Michael Jackson. Second was following my sex tape.” How’s that for aggressive marketing in the God Bazaar ? Kaushik’s videographer Basavaraja is in an even murkier spot - there’s video footage of him with multiple sex workers. The worst that can happen to these men is already over – Basavaraja is suspended, and Kaushik has resigned. But what can be done to resurrect the hockey dreams of players like Helen Mary (former captain and goal keeper) whose brilliant career was cut short when she dared to complain about Kaushik ( who was reportedly having an affair with the team’s manager, Anurita Saini )? It was Saini who paid the price after the expose and lost her job. Kaushik’s minders in high places, let him hang on to his. Isn’t that how it goes? The absurdity is further compounded today, when officials point out piously that Kaushik hasn’t exactly forced himself on anyone so far. He has merely indulged in lewd talk. And that, dear people, is not considered offensive enough to punish him! Talk like, “ It’s good if you like sex… I am available twenty four hours.” In an angry statement, members of the hockey team are raising valid questions : “ You say he hasn’t got physical…we ask, do you want us to wait till he gets physical?”
Unfortunately, we lack the will to pursue sexual harassment cases in India. They are just not considered ‘serious’ enough. Authorities, even the police, point out that in a country where the aam aadmi faces far more life threatening issues on a daily basis, what’s a little ‘masti’ between the sexes? It’s all harmless fun!! No sir, it isn’t. For every Kaushik and Basavaraja who finally get caught for propositioning and demeaning women who they think are in no position to hit back, there are countless others who never pay for their crimes.Society has to wait for the rare Ranjitha Devis and Helen Marys who boldly break that conspiracy of silence and speak up. Most times, their courage comes with a huge price tag. Men will always try to exploit this collective silence , but even those complacent men sometimes go wrong in their calculations.It only happens when almost miraculously, a few extraordinary women rediscover the power of their own larynxes That’s when their stifled- for- centuries voices do – and must - get heard .
What we need is greater amplification. Pump up the volume, ladies.
We know for sure what isn’t cricket. Now we also know what isn’t hockey!
Chuck de Kaushik !

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Ayobowan Sri Lanka. More pics!!

Remember.... you asked! And yes, I got carried away. I'm waiting for my husband to arrive from Bangkok. And I am packed and ready to leave for Delhi!! Ha ha!! It's pretty rare that our travel schedules run this close, but what the hell. A guy's gotta do what a guy's gotta do ( ditto for the gal !).

I think these images provide a reasonably good insight into my enchantment for this beautiful destination. My current grouse is that I have yet to travel up north to Trincamolee or even to Anuradhapuram. But I am determined to get there soon. I also want to go see the leopards in their natural habitat..... visit the elephant orphanage.... come back during the whaling season. Oh.... so many new discoveries!

Meanwhile, let me give you the dope on these pics: The top shot of me was taken by Arundhati at Kadju House, an eco- friendly boutique hotel run by Vikram Mathur ( an Oxford don, no less, plus a keen environmentalist). Set amidst cashew plantations, it's a tiny piece of heaven with real cinnamon stick window grills and a herbal spa.I enjoyed the most delicious orange coconut water here - of course, the coconut came from his estate.

Aren't my local gal pals something else? Our hostess, Rashmi, the lady in white, is scarily effervescent - like the bubbly she was serving. The lady to my far left, dressed stylishly in Etro, is Samantha. She works for the World Bank and has recently relocated from Washington to Kabul ( I plan to visit!). Shyamalee to my left, is popularly known as 'Highness' in Colombo. She pretty much runs the social scene there. Arundhati is dressed in purple satin and perched precariously on the arm of the setee. This picture was taken just before we left to have dinner at 'Lemon' - Colombo's newest and smartest rooftop restaurant, run by the divine Koluu with devilish aplomb.

The saree pic was clicked at the literary evening at which I was 'in conversation' with Geoffrey Dobbs, the main brain behind the Galle Literary Festival. The shot of my book display is from the bookshop at 'Barefoot', where I interacted with readers and met Naazreen, the stunning looking owner of the store ( people come there in droves just to stare at her!).

The White House, as it is known by residents of Colombo Seven ( the upmarket district of Colombo), is the Municipal building and located at the centre of town. The multiple Buddhas photographed by Arundhati are a part of the temple complex. As also is the enormous, brightly painted Buddha within the main building.

Hate to keep hinting.... but..... there are a few more to go. You are warned!

Once Upon a time with Shobhaa. Column- 6

"A Don by any other name...."
Let’s face it, Shakespeare can never be wrong. When he poetically stated, ‘A rose by any other name would smell as sweet…’ he couldn’t possibly have imagined the impact of those few words on the world. Today, we happily misquote and misrepresent the Bard as and when it suits us.Like I am about to do right now! What is all the current fuss being made over the word ‘Don’? Call the man by any other name – social worker, do gooder, Robinhood, businessman,politician. It doesn’t change a thing. In today’s times, the word ‘Don’ has gone glam - and I shudder to say this – become almost respectable. I read a recent press report which said that newly formed gangs from Govandi were terrorising residents by imitating their favourite filmi dons, down to the stylized costumes and tapori dialogues. A case of life imitating art! Not that the elderly in Govandi are amused. Cases have been filed against four of these goons under various sections of the Indian Penal Code. Perhaps their families don’t think of their boys as badmaashes. Maybe they prefer to think of them as Boy Scouts on an adventure.
It is true that Bollywood has always had a strange fascination for members of the underworld.It is a love-hate relationship going back to the bad old days when the most important mehmaan at a mahurat was often a notorious gangster with a big stake in the movie.It was only after things soured and the love affair between the two ended abruptly, that the death threats and blackmail began in earnest. Audacious attacks on prominent Bollywood personalities, eventually led to the insane wall of tight security that protects present day megastars. But back then, it was a bloody free for all. One midnight call was all it took for Bollywood to pay up. Or else – goli maro bhejey mein.
Recreating the mesmerizing magic of that era is a huge thrill for any film maker. Who can resist picturising dramatic scenes between a sultry temptress in fishnet stockings and her tormentor in a gaudy shirt ? Or cinematically unraveling dirty deals between ruthless land sharks and venal politicos as they battle over India’s prime real estate - Mumbai? It was happening then. It is happening now. So what has really changed? I can understand Ekta Kapoor’s fascination for the ‘70s perfectly. After all, her father Jumping Jack Jeetendra( guess who coined that name?) was a big star at the time. And the ‘70s were a deliriously dangerous decade. Did she see something …. hear something… that aroused her creative curiosity as a child? And continues to haunt her till today?
Now that’s a story!! Must ask Ekta when I meet her next…
P.S. I read in a city tabloid this morning that Mastaan's 'adopted' son is planning to sue me for defaming his late father, Mumbai's great 'social worker', in my blog.
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About the pictures. The one of me was clicked by Arundhati after I had waded through neck deep water and was getting ready to wade back to shore after a splendid lunch at 'Taprobane' ( travel writers justifiably go gaga over the uniqueness of the experience). The other pics are of the handsome and polite attendant posted outside one of the world's most artistic homestores called Paradise Road. He is wearing the store's trademark batik sarongs - aren't they gorgeous? The black-and-white bungalow you see was designed by Sri Lanka's legendary architect Geoffrey Bawa, and is now run by Shanth ( the undisputed emperor of style and elegance ) as a charming boutique hotel in Bentota. One of the other pics gives you an idea of just how much water visitors have to navigate to reach the island-hotel I'd mentioned earlier. There is also a pic of the Bodh tree in the temple complex I visited ( Arundhati and I watered it, as per tradition). And the last pic is of Shanth's courtyard - part of another Bawa property ( this is where the architect used to live). Shanth has changed it around and it now houses the smart Gallery Cafe and an art gallery\souvenir shop.
Guys.... I have more pics!! Should I keep them coming?
Am off to watch 'Khata Meetha'.
Am still reeling from 'Inception'. It has stolen all my dreams - past, present and future!! Spooky!

Bingo! The internet is behaving this evening and I could upload these three images without suffering too much! In fact, I took several biz calls while I was at it.... thereby saving precious time. I am feeling extraordinarily virtuous right now. Indulge me! In that spirit, let me share the sweet moments you can easily discern in these pictures. The beautiful little girl dressed in a Kandyian saree posed for Arundhati right outside her sunday morning religious class close to the Buddhist temple you see alongside. There was a magnificent Bodh tree in the courtyard, going back several hundred years. Our friend Shyamalee Tudawe was kind enough to spend her sunday with us, even though that is perhaps the only day of the frenzied week she has entirely to herself and her wonderful family.
My picture was also taken by Arundhati in Bentota as we waited for our chauffeur to show up. He'd disappeared without a trace, leaving us pretty stranded outside a gorgeous antique store crammed with amazing Dutch Colonial furniture. I'd do anything to acquire one of those gigantic teak chests - large enough to host a party in!
I have some more lovely, lovely images that tell a vivid story about our many discoveries in and around Galle. Especially the one which saw us wading into thigh high water in order to get to our stunning lunch destination at Taprobane island. It is the only way to access this incredible, lush and gorgeous property, which miraculously survived the Tsunami without any damage. While we timidly and gingerly made our way through the very waters that had caused such devastation, we half-wondered what our fate would be if there was another Tsunami at that exact moment. Morbid! Well, the terrific Sri Lankan repast served on a balcony kissed by a Flamboyante tree in full bloom, made up for all our fears. And then some. When it was time to wade back to the shore, we thought we'd become absolute experts at negotiating the swirling waters. Perhaps we had.
If you still want to see those funny pics of us holding our flip flops over our heads - you know what to do. Same drill - just raise your hands.

The Power of Symbols....

This appeared yesterday in Bombay times...



The minute I saw the first few images of the newly-minted Rupee symbol, I loved it! Strong, neat, international and assertive, it was just what India needed to give its currency the much required boost. And it’s stupid to ask whether the creation of a mere symbol will pump up our economy or image internationally. Symbols are not instant coffee – they take time to register and evolve. But a good symbol has the power to change perceptions and act as a catalyst. Tell me, which Indian won’t experience a sense of pride seeing the rupee symbol on the keyboard? Or walking into a money changer’s office while traveling abroad, and seeing it up there with the hand picked other currency symbols currently accepted and recognized the world over?Let us greet our new symbol with some respect rather than quibbling over the selection process. D Udaya Kumar who created this inspired and inspiring image holds both a Master’s degree and has a Doctorate in industrial design from the prestigious IIT ( Bombay). He is a fierce environmentalist who has planted five fruit bearing trees in the small patch of land outside his hostel and prefers to spend his limited leisure hours playing football with colleagues. Before submitting his design to the national panel for selection, he had field tested it by getting the common man to write it. This was to establish how easy it was to execute and recall. He submitted these video clips to the jury – and won! Why can’t those who lost the race accept his win with grace and give him credit for creating a superior design? Why start questioning the selection process which involved a committee of seven studying 3,331 submissions over 17 hours, at this stage? It’s a done deal, guys. Deal with it…
We make poor losers in this country, unfortunately. We are always looking for excuses and alibis to justify failure. Whether it’s in cricket , Bollywood or politics, we cannot concede defeat with a shrug and a smile, or tell ourselves to try harder. I have my fingers crossed and am holding my breath well in advance of the Commonwealth Games. We should learn from South Africa and FIFA . Even South Africa’s harshest critics will agree that the rainbow nation pulled off a major, glitch free coup in the face of countless odds. But here in Delhi, we are readying ourselves for disasters big and small. We think by pre-empting any such unfortunate eventuality, we will be lessening our responsibility. Finger pointing being our favourite national sport, right now, there are a lot of really weary fingers! Everybody is at it – and it’s not just about the games alone. Of course, when asli biggies are involved ( Kamal Nath – Montek Singh Ahluwalia), the nation is treated to a cerebral show down. But even lesser beings provide cheap thrills to the aam janata with name calling replacing name dropping. As of now, I am waiting to hear the next salvo from Akshay Kumar who was most miffed about the fuss made over his R.K.Laxman hospital visit. Perhaps, it’s time for the Common Man to have the last laugh!
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Guys, I tried hard to upload fresh images from Sri Lanka, but there is something weird happening on the internet today. Perhaps servers have crashed after people read about Sachin Tendulkar's 'Bloody' book. In case you don't know what I am talking about, it's titled 'Tendulkar's Opus', and will be published next February. Priced at a 'modest' $75,000, this 852-page book weighing 37kg is unique in more ways than one - it claims it has the iconic cricketer's blood and saliva on the signature page. Are you going - "Ugggggh!" ?????
Please do post candid comments to that googly....

Tere Bin Laden - fully paisa vasool!

Full house at a multiplex on a sunday evening after a really looooong time. The opening sequence itself establishes the tone of this little jewel of a high concept film. It tells you the script is not 'maroed' , that there are no big names strutting through the movie and that the subject is so damn clever, you are in for a really good time. 'Good time' not in the silly hahahoho sense, but a really, really good time that has you marveling at the wacky inventiveness of the entire enterprise, starting with the brilliant script, which rarely lets up. Every small gag, every incidental shot , and every fresh twist in the plot , has been calibrated and choreographed in such an entertaining manner, you leave the theatre feeling satiated and upbeat about the simple fact that there are filmmakers out there who can deliver big time, sans stars, hype,stunts.All you need is brains. And a producer who has enough faith in you to let you do your job.
Pooja Shetty Deora has always been my sort of gal. That she is married to my friend Hema Deora's son, happens to be a bonus. This is her first independent film, and I am so glad she took her chances with a bunch of talented newbies. The budget may be modest, but the impact is huge. It comes close to 'The Hangover' in terms of the absurdity of the premise and the unfolding of the crazy plot. Whosoever thought of Sikander the rooster, deserves a medal. Sikander is the real hero of this caper and should be given a special award. As for those guys who wrote the mad lyrics for the hit song, 'Ullu da Pattha' , we should felicitate them instantly. The movie takes the mickey out of America, Pakistan and all the paranoia about finding Osama. By the time the titles roll, nobody really cares that the gorgeous airport at Hyderabad is meant to pass off as JFK International. Yup. That's how good the film is. Watch it!!

Small town India hits big time....

Okay... so here's a pic of TopGun Ravi just before we took off on the first leg of our chopper ride across the emerald isle that I so love. This was right next to the Galle Fort, which is truly magnificent. We had spent two incredible days at The Dutch House ( a converted orphanage, built in 1712 and now run as a boutique hotel by Geoffrey Dobbs, who had generously given me the same suite as the one Sting had occupied). Our Indian cricketers may party there when they play in Galle - it is a jewel of a place, with a great resident chef. But to get back to Ravi, he is a man with nerves of steel, I can tell you. Throughout that ordeal flying in the blinding rain, he kept up a cheerful banter with three nervous ladies on board, and joked about our co-piloting skills being terrible! Now that he has us as founder members of his fan club, I am sure his repertoire of wisecracks will get still better!

The other pics are taken in Colombo. The first one at 'Barefoot' where I met readers and signed books. It is much more than Colombo's very stylish lifestyle destination, I can tell you. It has a great cafe attached, and the most beautiful cotton sarongs in the boutique. The saree pic is at the Galle Face Hotel just before my book reading and 'in conversation'. The gentleman in the pic is one of the oldest employees of this historic hotel ( older than Mumbai's classic Taj Mahal Hotel, and equally beautiful). I make it a point to meet him each time I'm in Colombo. I love this property, and the gracious owners, Sanjeev and Surekha Gardiner, who host the most elegant dinners ( would you like to see those pics?), in '1864', their fine dining restaurant. Oh.... I have more images which do NOT feature me. Perhaps you'd prefer those.....?? Say the word , guys.... I can handle it! Swear!!

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This appeared in The Asian Age today...

Small town India hits the big time….

It’s all about the numbers.And right now Dhoni’s numbers are looking just great! Signing a staggering Rs 210 cr endorsements’ deal isn’t exactly small change, particularly in these tough times when even international superstars are accepting paycuts. What cricket fans are getting all excited over is the fact that Dhoni at age 29 has gone past the 37 - year- old Tendulkar’s record Rs180 cr deal which ended in 2009. Come on guys…. haven’t you heard of that old saying which goes….the old order changeth yielding place to new? Shakespeare sure knew a thing or two about jawaani deewani…and the premium attached to it. Dhoni is on top of his game ( and I am not restricting that to cricket). He has displayed the sort of robust common sense that has seen him through various crises, professional and personal. And now as a newly minted bridegroom, even his previous romantic chakkars with assorted Bollywood\Fashion lovelies are taken care of. Dhoni is the ultimate symbol of aspirational\inspirational India. What is there not to like and love about this guy? He is handsome, self made and successful. His entry into the big ticket world of international cricket has been entirely on merit, without the benevolent hand of a powerful godfather over his head. He has seamlessly negotiated the murky political cess pool that is cricket today, winning the Captain Cool tag in the bargain. The man is a bloody modern day marvel ! He can act, he can sing, he can dance…. who knows … maybe he can walk on water, too. For all that, Dhoni remains a small town guy – and that’s where his real strength lies.
Something major is underway in small time India that most big city folks have paid scant attention to. One can sense it each time a journey into the hinterland is undertaken. This goes beyond malls and money. But hey – why not begin with the malls and money? Wasn’t it a dumb Mercedes dealer who stupidly ignored an order for 83 swanky Mercs, because he couldn’t believe that farmers from Aurangabad would be serious about such a gigantic purchase? But guess what? That’s where the actual lolly is…. in dem hills. And those guys in shiney suits living in India’s Tier-2 and Tier-3 cities are the fat cats shrewd advertisers and marketers should be aggressively chasing – instead of the comparatively kadka urban socialites sporting designer logos on their bums. Logos, that in all probability have their origins in the fake goods factories in Taiwan. Talking to the Delhi franchisees of the most prestigious luxury labels in the world, I was told that most of their sales are generated by farmers from Punjab, who make special ‘trousseau trips’ to the capital to pick up the priciest ‘It’ bags and designer gear for their darling daughters. It’s a strictly ‘Cash-and Carry’ crowd of dedicated shoppers and these guys justifiably believe money talks. Bundles of thousand rupee notes carried in inconspicuous plastic bags are poured on to the counter, much to the horror of the snooty sales’ team , accustomed to bowing and scraping in the presence of Bollywood stars looking for freebies. Not that this lack of so-called ‘class’ matters to their bosses in Milan, London or New York. Those foreign number crunchers rub their hands in glee as the euros, dollars and pounds roll in – from rural India, of all places! Given the dismal economic story dominating Europe, what would these snob stores do without the patronage of our richie rich kisaans and shetkaris?
And so it goes on other levels as well. Small town India has come into its own, be it in Bollywood or in big business. When I read about the 23 year-old Kangana Ranaut from Himachal Pradesh booking a sprawling four bedroom apartment in Mumbai’s tony Bandra neighbourhood for a whopping Rs. 15 crores, I fell off my chair! Here’s a girl who gate crashed into Bollywood less than five years ago, hooked up with a much married, much older Aditya Pancholi, broke up with the same bloke after a few well publicized spats, made a couple of small budget films, got noticed, got fame, got new boy friends… and… and got rich. Seriously rich. Today, she zooms around in the latest Audi, wears the best designer labels, signs countless movies, and is right up there in the showbiz pecking order.
One would imagine that Dhoni and Kangana would have nothing in common - but they do! It is the fascinating journey of two young and daring people to the top of the heap that makes them interesting. On a recent trip to Sri Lanka, I got talking to a hugely successful businessman ( you could call him the beer king of the island), who said he was not interested in the pursuit if either money or admiration. Loftily…. very loftily, he added such a chase was for the under-privileged and the hungry, who need both. But for someone like him, born into one of the wealthiest and most privileged families, his dream, he said airily, was to appreciate beauty and enjoy life! Lucky bugger, I thought to myself, as he picked at his gourmet lunch in Colombo’s smartest restaurant. He pointed to a brand new and very gaudy high rise apartment close by. “ It’s expensive …. even by Indian standards. But would I live in it? Never! It’s for the peasants who have made money and are stupid enough to move to the city.” Earlier that day, I had met a tea garden owner whose exclusive ‘ Virgin White Tea’ retails in fancy tea boutiques in New York and Paris for $1,500 per 10 grammes! I kid you not. What makes this tea so special? The publicity claims it is picked by virgins (“ But I don’t certify them,” he chuckled wickedly) who cut the leaves with a pair of gold scissors and collect them in a gold bowl. Well, that’s a part of the myth.But the extraordinary success of his limited edition tea has made it possible for his workers to dream technicolour dreams. One of those fit and handsome boys playing cricket in the field close by, could well replace Kumar Sangakarra, the dashing captain of the Sri Lankan cricket team, in the near future.
There are versions of Dhonis and Kanganas being born every day in some small, relatively obscure part of our world. Who knows – the Commonwealth Games may throw up a few right here in our backyard.May the best underdog win …. and all that rot. While we are at it, let’s ask Oracle Paul what the odds are of India winning even a single measly medal?