Monaco,the destination... not the biscuit!

Blogdosts, I am leaving tonight.It  is to a super glamourous destination.... and I am most excited. I have been to this tiny, jewel-like principality thrice earlier. But even that is not enough. Imagine! Thrice is not enough!!
I shall attempt blogging from Monaco and Paris.... I'm sure the Business Centre of the world famous Hotel de Paris will be accessible.... I hate travelling with my laptop. God knows it's arduous enough to negotiate international airports.... why get weighed down with additional baggage?
 As always, I shall miss this space.... this connect.
  Au revoir, mes amies.... as you can tell, I am practicing my school girl French, abhi se!
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                           This appeared in Asian Age yesterday.....

                                        Murder on the Mumbai menu….

 It doesn’t happen only in C-grade crime thrillers. It’s happening now! In a city nearest you!Mumbai has beaten Delhi in a particularly macabre game. It involves diabolical murders and sleazy plots that make even the horrific Jessica Lall killing look amateurish and clumsy. There was a time when Mumbaikars would express shock and awe at the violent goings on in the Capital. We would say a trifle smugly, “Thank God we live in a civilized city… we are spared!”  Ha, ha, ha! We’d read about Aarushi Talwar’s murder and tch- tch sanctimoniously (“This would never happen in Mumbai!”). Till a recent spate of grisly , cold blooded killings woke us up to a harsh new reality. The day Neeraj Grover’s body was discovered,hacked into several pieces, and Emile Jerome along with Maria Susiaraj became household names across the country, Mumbai received a rude wake up call.Now, after a series of sadistic crimes involving young ambitious starlets, ruthless boy friends, and merciless pimps, all of whom have conspired to kill  innocent victims in cold blood, Mumbai isn’t smirking. The latest sultry siren on the crime radar is someone called Simran Sood (RGV must be hot on her trail). Going by reports, she is a seasoned operator on Mumbai’s frenetic party circuit, making sure she gets into hard core IPL after- parties, where she networks with cricketers, movie stars and other influential people. Had it remained there, Simran would have been one more pushy starlet, willing to sleep around in the hope of getting a break. There are thousands like her on the fringes of Bollywood - attractive, sexy party girls who don’t let go of an opportunity to make money, score drugs and trap richie- rich men . Mumbai is an expensive city. Survival is one thing. But flashing a luxurious lifestyle, quite another. Someone’s got to pay for it! After the sensational murder of Arun Tikku, the 64- year-old- father of Anuj Tikku,  Simran’s name is being thrown around in a more lethal context.She has changed her lurid story several times and her latest ‘confession’ has her as the accused killer, Vijay Palande’s wife (earlier, she called herself his sister / niece / friend). There are a lot of red faces in Bollywood and  beyond, as Simran’s Facebook account  shows her posing with assorted celebrities like Neil Nitin Mukesh, Gautam Vora, various cricketers and others.

   The modus operandi in most of these cases involves smart, good looking girls ( ‘Honey traps’ as our cops call them) and their dangerous liaisons with hardened criminals. The motives are the same – greed. In this case, Simran’s ‘associate’ ( for want of a better word) gangster Vijay Palande has also confessed to killing Karan Kakkad , a rich boy from Delhi, because Palande fancied Kakkad’s BMW.  Kakkad was yet another Delhi bakra who wanted a touch of  glamour in his life.Kakkad wanted a shot at – you’ve guessed it – Bollywood. There are dozens of Kakkads who fly into Mumbai with stars in their eyes, and a couple of crores in their pocket. Fortunately, most of them go back broke, but alive. Those who are desperate, seek out the Simrans and Palandes who prey on such gullible men…. and increasingly, slit their throats when they are of no further use. Anuj Tikku was spared this grisly end, but  Arun,his poor father paid for his mistake of coming to Mumbai. Little could Sr. Tikku have known about the sinister plot that had been hatched by Palande to kill the old man, kill his son, and grab their pricy properties. He had done it before. He was sure, he could do it again.

 Just as the city was recovering from this blood curdling story, came the equally shocking news of  a Dehradun girl,  26-year-old Meenakshi Thapa, who was butchered by two people she’d met during a film shoot. Unable to claim a hefty ransom (15 lakhs) from Thapa’s family, the accused chopped her up, threw her body parts out of a running bus, flung her decapitated head into a water tank at Allahabad, and resumed their normal activities as if nothing had happened. According to the cops, one of Meenakshi’s alleged killers ( Amit Kumar Jaiswal) is a lawyer, the other ( Preeti Surin) his assistant. All three had tenuous showbiz links. Meenakshi had worked as a junior artist in Madhur Bhandarkar’s under production ‘Heroine’.No matter how these scripts read, the bottom line remains the same. There is a pattern to all three murders remains alarmingly similar, with Bollywood as the centerpiece. Whether Simran the seductress also worked as a match fixer, whether she really had a torrid affair with socialite broker Gautam Vora ( notorious for being the boy friend of   Viveka Babaji, the statuesque model who committed suicide), or  she knew some of the other celebs whose pictures she posted on Facebook, one thing is clear –  Bollywood Dreams are at the centre of  unbelievable violence.We used to mock Dilliwallas and the ease with which young girls were snuffed out at friendly, neighbourhood bars and clubs for their grave crime of not serving drinks to unsavoury characters after closing hours. Mumbai’s recent record shows how swiftly this megapolis has overtaken Delhi in the  society crime department.

   Even as Jerome, the handsome, athletic Naval officer sweats it out in jail, his girl friend has calmly gone back to the family fold in Mangalore. Today there are new criminal-celebs on the scene, with equally sadistic murders attached to their names. Let’s call it the Bollywood Syndrome. And let these murders be terrible and terrifying reminders to all those young men and women who arrive in Mumbai hoping to become Kareena Kapoor and Salman Khan. Bollywood is unapologetically carnivorous. It devours the unwary and innocent … spits out bones. Its appetite is huge. It’s beast without a conscience. Come here … and be prepared to die.

Sarees... and Splendour....

I was so delighted to launch a handsomely mounted book that celebrates the splendour of the magical six yards - the timeless saree. It's a labour of love put together by Ahemdabad-based saree enthusiast Soha Parikh. We both wore Patan Patolas (not planned!) to this elegant event appropriately held at the B and B Art Gallery. The sultry evening saw a lot of lovely ladies in exquisite heirloom sarees. Here's hoping the saree does not die in India, the way the kimono almost has in Japan.
To celebrate the book ... and frankly, just to be wicked and greedy, I attacked Zeba Kohli's absolutely scrumptious new range of organic dark chocolates from 'Fantasie', her family owned chocolate company. The ones I got instantly hooked on to are the square slivers filled with sesame and pumpkin seeds.
As if this wasn't greedy enough, I jumped out of the Patola saree and into a self-designed caftan, to attend an engagement party of a daughter's school friend. And what a FEAST, Chef Hemant Oberoi ( of the Taj!) had laid out in the Ballroom. Multi-cuisine can be either wonderfully inspired or go horribly wrong. Chef Oberoi excelled himself last night! In fact, I complimented him extravagantly ( the lobster! Oh God - what lobster!), and told him most of the high profile invitees had abandoned the original Punjabi Munda, Sukhvinder, who was belting out Bhangra in the adjoining Crystal Room, to gorge at the Chef's table (s). Hemant blushed! He actually did!
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This appeared in Bombay Times....

Cannes : Who can and who can’t do it…

The annual Cannes madness has begun…not in France , or Hollywood but in Bollywood! And one wonders what all the fuss is about. There are a few idiotic young actresses who go on and on about being ‘invited’ to Cannes like there’s no greater recognition on earth. Perhaps, it is, for these ladies of zero or little accomplishment. In fact, were someone to offer them the Bharat Ratna, even in jest, they’d probably stare blankly at the person and ask, “Bharat what? Bharat who?” But mention Cannes ( invariably mispronounced by our crew), and see those eyes light up, and the babbling begin. It’s become a silly little game of one upmanship, with a single question on everybody’s mind, “What will you be wearing on the red carpet?” Films are incidental. One hears starlets sighing, “Who has time to watch films at Cannes, yaar. We go there to party!” And that’s pretty much what our desis do. Never mind that very few people recognise them. Never mind that with mega international stars around, even our biggest and brightest are ignored by fans and photographers. The clamour to be seen at the world’s most glam movie event ( some would say it eclipses the Oscar’s and Globe put together), has reached such insane heights that one hears of heavy duty lobbying to get on to the Cannes’ gravy train. Not a single film of ours has made a major impact here, or won an award in the longest time. Given that Bollywood today is a top entertainment player globally, shouldn’t we be planning,positioning and marketing ourselves better?
All our eyes will be on Aishwarya this year. As a brand ambassador for the hair and make up company that is one of the top sponsors at Cannes, Aishwarya maybe contractually obliged to put in an appearance, like the one she did in Dubai recently ( for the watch she endorses). But Cannes continues to be the biggest photo op in the world. And Aishwarya has to make a statement that is big enough for her admirers to go ‘Wow!” Unfortunately for Ash, some of her earlier Cannes outings have been less than impressive. Cannes is often the acid test for fashionistas and celebs to grab eyeballs and delight the paparazzi. One less-than-smashing appearance in an unflattering gown, and phut! Critics tear you apart instantly. Ash’s admirers are holding their breaths and praying she gets it right this year, especially since Ash is still in Mommie-mode, and obviously not in a hurry to shed those post-baby kilos. Let’s hope her stylists settle for a graceful saree just this once and not one of those fitted, slinky peplum gowns that do nothing for ‘the most beautiful woman in the world’. As for the rest,it will be worth monitoring what Bipasha Basu struts her stuff in on the red carpet. Heaven help us if she picks yet another skimpy teen-outfit that barely covers her… ummm… derriere. Much fun awaits! My eyes are peeled!

Ravinar! Ravinar! Ravinar!

Thank you, 'Dirty Picture' and Vidya Balan. Phew!
Entertainment!Entertainment! Entertainment!
To that let's add Ravinar! Ravinar! Ravinar!
www.mediacrooks.com
The missing link....must check it out one of these days, now that I know of its existence.

Enjoy piggy-backing, guys!

And do look up the meaning of 'Plagiarism' while you are at it.

Baby Afreen's tragic death....

Nothing beats a zero activity Sunday! Chilled tomato and melon soup with basil for lunch.Dahi chicken for dinner. And the marvelous 'Magic Fingers' Babita's relaxing massage in between.
Would have loved to watch Smita Patil's 'Bhumika' tonight. Will settle for 'Downtown Abbey'. I adore Mr.Bates. If any of you is following 'DA', do let me know what happens to the dishy Irish chauffeur.
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This appeared in the Sunday Times today...

Death of a baby girl….
Baby Afreen’s short lived life on earth was cruelly snuffed out in Bangalore this week. And the nation mourned the little one’s tragic end. But the only reason we are talking about this horrific tragedy is because Reshma Bano, Baby Afreen’s 19 year-old mother went public with the ghastly, sordid story.She was compelled to speak about the torture her precious baby had been subjected to at the hands of her father, 26-year-old Umar Farooq, when she rushed Baby Afreen to hospital in a critical condition. Reshma Bano was Umar’s second wife, forced into accepting an unstable, violent drunk as her husband. According to hospital reports, the infant had been subjected to the most inhuman acts of brutality by her sadistic father, resulting in severe brain and body injuries, including bites and cigarette burns all over her tiny body. Farooq, who faces murder charges under IPC section 302 , is lodged in Parapanna Agrahara Central Jail, where even other, hardened jail inmates have beaten him up, obviously filled with revulsion for this devil of a man who tortured a helpless infant, resulting in her death. No punishment is harsh enough for Farooq.What sort of a human being would assault an innocent newborn? After all, what was Baby Afreen’s ‘crime’ ? Aha, this is the trick question. And there are no easy answers to it in our wretched society. Baby Afreen’s sole crime was that she was born female. For that,she was condemned to die by her own flesh and blood – her father.An enraged man who’d desperately wanted his young wife to deliver a baby boy. There can be no bigger injustice in the world than the fate suffered by Baby Afreen. If the case of Baby Afreen’s torture-filled 85 days on earth have sent shock waves through the watching world, it also has a lot to do with the sad realisation that Baby Afreen was not alone.There are thousands of little girls facing the same fate all over India.Babies whose lives are crushed by the very people who create them – mothers, included. The ugly truth is we remain a nation of boy-worshippers. Sickening as that sounds.And we are doomed to stay that way.
Shockingly enough,this boy-worship extends across the board, and is not restricted to any class or community. One sees blatant discrimination against the girl child at every level. ‘Girls not welcome’ goes the message.And it cuts through every strata of our complex society.Overt and covert acts of blatant favouritism are practised (and widely accepted) as much in the poshest home as in a jhuggi jhopdi. When will we start putting value on our beautiful daughters? Educating the girl child has spawned countless national initiatives with a few NGOs undertaking worthwhile projects. But unless and until there is a change in our in our hearts, minds and souls, and we stop looking at daughters as liabilities to be palmed off on someone else, there will be any number of battered Baby Afreens in future.Had Reshma Bano not rushed her baby to the Vani Vilas Hospital last Thursday, Baby Afreen would have died much earlier, and perhaps, nobody would have known she had ever been born. Indeed, Baby Afreen was a victim even before she arrived in the world. She was rejected by her sadistic father, the moment she emerged from her mother’s womb. That Baby Afreen survived several attempts to kill her by this beastly man is a miracle in itself. For Umar had pronounced a death sentence the moment he discovered his baby’s gender. Today, he faces one himself. Most would agree, it isn’t punishment enough.But that won’t bring back Baby Afreen. Or console her devastated mother, who is in a state of shock, still waiting to breast feed her dead baby. Is Umar alone responsible for this crime? Surely, not. We stand guilty, along with Umar. Until and unless our obsession for producing a boy-child is recognized for what it is – a sickness - a centuries’ old sickness with no cure in sight, we are doomed.
‘Boy worship’ is a terminal disease. In India, it is an epidemic with no end in sight. We really are doomed. Baby Afreen, RIP.

My 'Hello!" interview with Tina Ambani....

Let those comments roll, Blogdosts. It's looking like a pretty boring weekend right now. Don't feel like writing... no movies to watch.... oil in my hair... not fun, for sure!
But I have to tell you what happened a couple of nights ago - Tina A. was so kicked with the 'Hello!' coverage, she did what very few celebs do - invited the entire 'Hello' team for sunset champagne on 'Tiaan',her magnificent yacht. Dressed informally, she mingled with each person, from alarmingly young interns to the make- up artists, and made them all feel welcome, as she chatted away on the deck. When it was time to say goodbye, she gave a box of Alphonso mangoes grown on her farm to everybody. A warm and wonderful gesture that was appreciated by all. If only a few other snooty celebs would take a cue from her....
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This was written for the 5th Anniversary issue of 'Hello!'

Shobhaa De in a heart-to-heart with ‘Forever Hot’ Tina Ambani…

“ Anil has never said ‘no’ to me for anything….”

“ I love both my daughters-in-law - they are thoughtful and caring,” declared Kokilaben Ambani as the two of us sat at her dining table on the 9th floor of ‘Seawind’ the iconic South Mumbai residence of half the original Ambani parivaar. Kokilaben’s attention to detail was evident in everything, from the fresh methi salad with sesame seeds and the delicious ‘kandh khichdi’ ( an Ambani household speciality) to the heavy duty silver thali service we were eating out of. The food was piping hot and delicious. That superb ‘garma garam’ meal set the mood for the after-dinner poolside heart-to-heart that was scheduled with Kokilaben’s Chhoti Bahu, the ‘Forever Hot’ Tina Ambani, who lives on a lower floor with her husband Anil, Kokilaben’s Chhota Beta, and their two sons Anmol and Anshul. Kokilaben wanted to know whether I’d be quoting “everything” . Tough question! Especially because I have known Tina since she was sixteen years old. Kokilaben sighed. She herself does not give interviews. Being Kokilaben cannot be easy. And yet, not a crease crosses her calm and serene face while talking about her sons. She says all she’s doing is performing her role as a mother. “I see Anil every day. Mukesh calls me the minute he gets into the car on the way to the office. Nita has a very good gym. I go there thrice a week for a massage. My children take good care of me. So do my grand children. There’s nothing to complain about.” She looks away and adds, “Anil is just like Dhirubhai. His restless nature reminds me of his father.His mind is always running (“ Anil nu magaj har time daudey chhey” ). Then she looks at her jeweled gold watch and says, “Tina must be waiting…”
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It’s close to 11 p.m. Tina looks like a freshly plucked rose. She has spent the day at the hospital named after Kokilaben ( she goes there thrice a week). It’s been a long day. Anil’s out of town, and the two boys are not home. Tina pushes back her fabulous hair (better than Dimple’s legendary mane), and drawls, “ There are three men in my life. I don’t have to share my space with any other woman.What do I have to crib about?” Oh- oh. We are off to a great start. She adds naughtily, “ I’m talking about my husband and two sons…” Phut! Should have guessed. “ I am a hands- on wife and strict mom. I like to know what’s going on in all their lives. I am friendly with the parents of those my boys hang out with. I track where they are and with whom. They are obedient children, and my top most priority.” Does she track Anil as closely?” Tina laughs, “ We share a very equal relationship.It has always been so. I have never ever been insecure.Anil has never given me the chance to feel that way. Nothing rattles me. Trust your man. Trust yourself. Ignore rumours. That’s my mantra.People around you will always try and play games…. manipulate you… pull you down. I stay miles away from Mumbai society and have zero interest in other people’s lives or idle gossip. At this stage in my life it’s important to get rid of negativity. My work is my meditation. As for Anil, he has really come into his own during the last five years. Whatever happens,happens for the best. It has actually worked well for everybody.” Read the subtext carefully, folks.
Tina prides herself on being just another working girl in the city, which, in a way she is. “I have no hang ups. I am very straight forward. We have 130 doctors I interact with at the hospital. Plus, the long hours I spend with my Harmony team, working for senior citizens. It’s a very normal, busy life. If you ask me how many cars we own, I have no idea. And I don’t care whether I’m in a Lexus or a BMW so long as I am mobile. If I have to take a commercial flight, I do it without any issues. Anil often offers our private jet. But I say, ‘Why waste money? I’ll just fly commercial.’ That’s me. I’ve worked since the age of 17. I value money. When people ask me to name the brands I wear, I laugh! I don’t need a Birkin. I am a brand myself. I can carry off something I’ve picked up on Colaba Causeway as easily as I do a Bina Modi outfit.” Which is largely true. For example even for this very Hello! Shoot, Tina was happy to do her own hair and make-up. She smiled, “Pakkhi took an hour and a half to do my face! I told her I could have done it in ten minutes.” How did Anil and the boys feel about Tina doing this interview (she has stayed away from the glam press for years). “He was surprised! But I told him I wanted to see if I still enjoyed posing for the cameras. And I had such a super time with the young, fun, professional Hello! team. I was trying on various nail polish shades on the morning of the shoot and I asked Anil and the boys which one I should go with. I liked red. But all three preferred nude. Anil tells me what suits me and what doesn’t. Sometimes, he asks me to change when we are going out. He says, ‘this makes you look plump. Wear something else’. And I do. Or now that I have lost weight, he says, ‘That’s so loose! Get a new wardrobe.’ Other than that, he doesn’t interfere with my shopping. He never questions me. I have always bought whatever it is I have fancied. Dhirubhai bought my mother-in-law’s clothes. Anil used to do that for all the ladies of the family earlier. He’d pick up sarees and pearls for all of us. Now, he leaves even his own shopping to me. Anil is very fashion conscious. He likes to dress in the latest styles. Tom Ford is his current favourite. Anil is particular about every single detail around him. Whether it’s the table linen, bed sheets or curtains. Once he asked me to source a particularly comfortable mattress he’d slept on at the Four Season’s in New York, and I managed to get it.” From bed linen to baubles. Serious baubles. Tina’s spectacular, blinding jewels require friends to don shades in her dazzling presence. Anil’s reaction? “If it is something really noticeable and a statement piece, he teases me by saying, “New? I’m sure you are embarrassed to wear it.’ Anil has never said ‘no’ to me for anything. But the gift that is really special is an eternity band crafted out of heart shaped diamonds that Anil gave me soon after we got married. In any case, what are jewels or possessions? I can’t take them up with me. I feel blessed to enjoy such luxuries. Nothing ever belongs to you. You’re just a custodian. Share what you possess and you’ll feel happier.” Is there anything in the world that Tina covets but which maybe unaffordable even for her? “The Last Supper,” says our smart art connoisseur.
It’s been interesting to observe the change in Tina over the years. Though, the essential person remains the same, there is a new steadiness in her personality which she attributes to a better understanding of herself. “The best relationship you can have is with yourself,” she states confidently. “I work out for an hour and a half – no personal trainers, nothing. I know my body and what I need to do to shed weight.I focus on cardio, and after that, I just lie down,shut my eyes , and listen to chants or any other soothing sounds.This is my time with myself which I love.It gives me clarity and inner strength.I’m feeling good, externally and internally. I am not a morning person. But I do wake up to see Anil off. He gets up at 5 a.m. and is fast asleep by 10p.m. That’s when my ‘day’ begins! I watch tv shows, movies, work on my iPad, chill with friends late into the night.” If that sounds like odd timings for an odd couple, does it involve special arrangements like separate bedrooms? Tina’s response is immediate: “No!I have my own dressing room. But I don’t want my own bedroom.A bedroom is for two people, unless you are single.” Was it always like that from the time they met? “ Well, I met Anil in ‘86 through my nephew Karan. Initially, I wasn’t interested. I was a movie star. Wrapped up in my own world. I hadn’t even heard of Reliance. But I liked him. Unlike some Bollywood men I knew, Anil didn’t come on strong. He seemed like a decent Gujju guy. We had a similar background. Both our families are Sreenathji worshippers. We ate the same sort of food, spoke the same language. He courted me like a gentleman, with flowers and notes like, ‘You are jogging all over my brain.’ I was 31 when we married in 1991. I’d seen life. There’s a reason and a purpose why he’s in my life and I’m in his. We are each other’s strengths. That’s the truth. He may not say it. But I’m saying it.” So, all those stories about them….? “If your priorities are right, you don’t let these things get to you. I don’t, and neither does Anil. I am married to a guy who is famous. He is an achiever. I am proud of him. There are no ego hassles if he gets more attention or signs more autographs. He walks very fast, often way ahead of me. But that doesn’t make me feel left out . That’s his pace. I’m confident enough to walk in alone. I don’t insist on him sticking to me throughout the function. We understand each other’s place in society. We have strong, separate identities that don’t clash The downside is that society has certain pre-conceived notions about us and can be judgmental. This makes me uncomfortable. But the fact still remains, I’m not embarrassed by anyone or anything! I mean that.”
By now, we had consumed a litre of water each.We’d planned to crack a bottle of champagne. But the working women in both of us sensibly thought better of it. Tina enjoys her bubbly and seafood, especially while chilling with close friends on the deck of ‘Tian’, the yacht, she happily admits Anil bought for her and the boys .Anil himself gets seasick. “ The yacht is my space. It is so calming,” declares Tina, her eyes shining.Anil is a vegetarian and a teetotaler ( a narielpaani and cola guy). But being a superb host (“ even with the family”), Anil orders the best wine and champagne for his wife when they go off on family vacations ( “just the two of us with the boys”) . They prefer remote safaris ( ( Zimbabwe, last year), which are Tina’s best holidays since the family can really bond in the wilderness, away from the stress of city life. Anil and she also take short breaks in Mahableshwar at a friend’s home, or in Goa, where Anil’s sister Dipti lives. “ Holidays are when Anil switches off completely. No office work. No phones.” But how does the DBRS (“daal-bhaat-rotli-shaak”) addict manage when they travel to international events like their recent Oscars’ outing? “ Anil loves Lebanese, Chinese, Thai, Mexican and Italian cuisines. It’s not true he only sticks to Gujju food. On our safari holidays, he instructs the cooks what to make for breakfast, lunch and dinner. And pre-orders crab for me since it’s unavailable there.”
Now for that ‘aha’ moment at the Oscar’s. How did it happen? Was Tina blasé about her Red Carpet debut at the world’s most glamourous event? “ I have to admit I was very excited in the car driving to the event! The whole thing is so brilliantly organized. Everything is so professionally put together. The best part about being on the Red Carpet with Steven Spielberg was when some Indian fans recognized Anil and me and shouted our names. Steven turned around and said, ‘ Hey, people here know you guys.’ But it was Anil’s comment that touched me the most. He said, “From ‘Des Pardes’ to walking the Red Carpet at the Oscar’s. What a journey you’ve had , Tina! Had Dev Saab been alive, he’d have been so proud of you!” Frankly, I had not looked at it that way at all…. and I enjoyed the Red Carpet even more after he said that.” How involved is Tina in Anil’s movie business? Here’s the surprising answer : “ Not at all. I have no role to play. We were at the Oscar’s not as some altu-faltu guests but as part owners of ‘Dreamworks’. That’s a business decision.Anybody who has the resources these days wants to be associated with movies. Anil has always loved cinema. My being a part of the industry has nothing to do with his business decisions. I am not even aware of the films his company backs. Sometimes I call the office and say, “Guys, at least send me a list and let me know which movies we have interests in. My connection to movies is very emotional because of my background. Theirs is a business linked. I’m not in sync with it.” Does she never miss that world? Would she turn producer someday? Tina shrugs, “ When you have been in front of the camera, why would you want to go behind it . Why?? I don’t miss that part of my life at all.” No recent roles she’d have liked to perform? Tina thinks deeply. “ Vidya Balan’s.” Hmmmm. In ‘Dirty Picture?”. Tina is caught off guard. “ No. No . No. In ‘Paa’. She recovers quickly, hastily adding, “ I haven’t watched ‘Dirty Picture’ so far.” Right.
It’s past 1 a.m. I am thirsty and sleepy. No more water. Just a wrap up question. The one everybody is dying to ask : Has Tina been to ‘Antilia’, Mukesh and Nita’s new home? Small pause. “ Of course. We were there for Mummy’s birthday last month. We are family.”
So they are.

Mumbai to Libreville

Blogdosts... confess. Did you know there was a vibrant and bustling city called Libreville, the capital of a country called Gabon? Do you even know there is a West African nation called Gabon? Of course, you do! Right ?? Well, I didn't. Ignorant me. And when I received an invitation from a dynamic lady, Cecilia, the brilliant ex-wife of French President Nicholas Sarkozy, to attend an important one day conference, I was ready to jump at the chance. That's before I started my research! It will take me 24 hours, door-to-door, to get to Libreville. Once I get there, I'll need 48 hours to recover. By then the conference will be over! Should I go? Would you? Will I live without visiting Libreville?
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The Table continues to hold its position as the top table in Mumbai. Justifiably so. Over a relaxed lunch with two elegant gentlemen, I enjoyed my crab meat and alphonso mango salad, as well as what The Table calls a Zucchini pasta. There is no pasta in this warm, perfectly balanced dish - just wiggly strips of crisp zucchini with slivers of well toasted almonds and pine nuts. Soooooo perfect for our long, hot summer!
One hop step and jump away from The Table is my current favourite boutique called Fuschia and Orange. Well priced, stylish and wearable outfits, mainly caftans, which I practically live in. Dimpy, the enterprising designer from Chandigarh who runs this tiny boutique, told me her sales in Chandigarh really rock 'because of all the rich politicians' there!!!!

Oh.... here's a terrible confession: I watched 'The Artist' and struggled to stay awake. It was boring and far from entertaining. The dog deserved the Oscar, not the owner.

Chhota sa crisis....

Blogdosts, a couple of months ago, while I was in Cuba, some of you had warned me about my blog doing the disappearing act overnight. For more than a week it was disabled. And just as suddenly, it re-appeared ! I don't know why this should happen. But I am glad it's still there.... albeit with a difference. My 'Visitors' count didn't show for another week. And when it did, it was from zero! So what happened to the 11-lakh visitors who were there earlier? Any answers? Today, the number is approximately 23 thousand (which has happened over a really short period of a month or less). How do I get an accurate representation... how do I retrieve the lost numbers?? This is really important. Please do put on your thinking caps and help me plug this problem.
Am looking forward to watching 'The Artist' tonight. So, you know what you can expect to read here tomorrow night...
Am feeling like a tub, after a late and heavy lunch at Brittania - yup - the famous Irani 'berry pulao' place. It was packed with tourists clicking pictures of a larger-than-lifesize cut out of the royal couple - Willy and Kate! But the sign that caught my attention was a bold one that cautioned, "Do not argue with the management." I relished my pulao even more after reading it, and dared not say it was a bit too greasy.
To counter its greasiness, I walked down the block to the National Hindu Hotel (we refer to restaurants as 'hotels' in Mumbai, thank you!), for the best South Indian coffee in the city. Mukesh Ambani can keep his Matunga coffee joint. My vote goes to National Hindu at Ballard Pier.