Jiah Khan

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Monday, 27 September 2010

Kalmadi as an Item Boy'...?

Posted on 03:35 by Unknown
I heard the latest version of the current hit song and loved it! Kalmadi as an Item Boy? Why not? Let's get him to sing and gyrate to, "Dilli Badnaam Hui, Darling Mere Liye."
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This appeared in the Asian Age \ Deccan Chronicle

Kabbadi…Kabbadi…Kalmadi…Kalmadi

You know someone is in trouble – big trouble – when the sms jokes about him\her go into overdrive. As of now, most jibes are directed at Villain Number 1 - Suresh Kalmadi. Sample this : “ Baba Kalmadi, Have you any shame? No sir, no sir, we are hosting Common Loot Games. Crores for my partners,crores for the Dame. Crores for me too for putting India to shame.” Black Sheep Kalmadi is in deep s**t. Err… should that read Dik-s**t? And a lot of smelly faeces has literally hit the fan in those pricey rooms meant for international athletes. Never mind. Lalit Bhanot has hit headlines worldwide (80 newspapers, and still counting) by baring India’s butt. Those ‘different standards of hygiene’ are likely to sink the Games in a sewage tank even before they have begun. Desi attitudes to what is sweetly called ‘Number 2’ (in schoolkids’ parlance), deserves an entire tome to itself. Indians are obsessed by where, when and how to defecate. It is a national preoccupation , and has been so for centuries. That we do our job anywhere and everywhere, and pretty much anytime, is well known. What poor Bhanot has done is gone public with India’s dirty secret. It is true – our standards are different from anybody else’s. He has not specified better or worse. Just different. It is only in India… that too, in a crowded, busy megapolis like Mumbai, that one can see grown men, their genitals hanging over railway tracks, as they crap companionably, discuss the news with other s**ters and walk away, lota in hand, like it is the most normal thing to do. Right across from where we live ( and very close to where India’s richest brothers reside ) is a narrow pathway jutting into the sea that cuts the bay. It is an open lavatory that functions 24x7. From the crack of dawn till late at night, one can see a steady line of men and children walking down this strip, carefully selecting their spot, squatting precariously and then opening up their gut without the least shame or self consciousness. Most of the pavements in this, one of the supposedly poshest areas in the city ( if not in India), are covered with piles of excreta ( human and animal). There isn’t an inch left to walk on…. dogs, goats, cows and people nonchalantly s**t together… nobody notices, nobody cares.
We are crucifying the wrong man for the wrong reasons. Lalit Bhanot naively dismissed off the charges regarding filth and unsafe conditions in the Village by saying it is not ‘such a big issue.’ You know what? He is absolutely right1 Toilets can be cleaned up… stray dogs removed from beds meant for sportspeople. The other clean up is far more crucial, far more critical and no amount of heavy duty industrial level cleaning operations can rid India of this dirty stain. What the country is witnessing is corruption of the filthiest kind - undertaken on a scale that may be unprecedented in the world. The fact that the money that has been stolen by these crooks, is our money – the public’s money – compounds the crime still further. Were we asked before these monster budgets were cleared? Were the people of India consulted on the rightness\wrongness involved in allocating such monies for what is nothing but an empty p.r. exercise we can ill afford? And now that we know how systematically we’ve been hood winked, is there any way to make up? Recover the money? Cancelling the Games at this stage, is an immature, impractical suggestion. But giving citizens an assurance that the guilty will be punished ( jail the buggers instantly!) will go a long way in keeping collective tempers down. Aha – here comes the catch. Who will decide which persons are guilty? What will they be charged with? Where is the proof? It will be another Lalit Modi IPL saga…. another Ramalinga Raju eyewash, another Koda cover up. To anybody with some common sense it is obvious Kalmadi was not working alone ( just as Modi wasn’t). It is equally obvious, everybody from Manmohan Singh to Sheila Dixit must have guessed what was going on – and if they didn’t, it reflects poorly on their administrative skills. Why aren’t they assuming responsibility? Why look for scapegoats when everybody knows who the looters are? Mike Fennell’s role is suspect as hell, and he really has some cheek writing to the cabinet secretary to express his ‘great concern with the preparedness’ for the Games, considering it is he who should be in the dock himself! What absolute audacity. Sorry to bring race into this, but we always tend to give the benefit of the doubt to the White Man – any White Man. Let’s put it down to our colonial hangover… we still bow and scrape, cringe and kowtow when dealing with Westerners. Go to hell, Mike!
Lalit Bhanot shold take the cleanliness debate to its next logical level, if you ask me! Why not? The only hope left to salvage our tattered pride is to let the world know how superior we are and how scrupulously we clean ourselves after performing daily ablutions. We can also talk about how we consider our left hand to be ‘dirty’ ( for obvious reasons). Bhanot can present an international paper on – you’ve guessed it - toilet paper! And how Indians believe in the efficacy of using water to clean bums. These sort of diversionary tactics may pay some dividends at least, while bridges collapse, catwalks fall apart, loose tiles kill a couple of workers and strangers from foreign countries stroll into the Village unchecked with explosives packed into large, very noticeable suitcases. As for all those star athletes and even countries pulling out – big deal! These Games were never about sports. Just as the IPL was never about cricket. Both were about making money. So much money, that the amounts one hears about could have taken care of basics like roti, kapda aur makaan for millions in India. But since the poor of India are nobody’s priority in the first place, why play spoilsport? Let the Games begin. And let us console ourselves that thanks to Bhanot at least now the world will know that Indian’s probably have the cleanest bottoms on earth. Those who criticize us are nothing but jealous a**holes.
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Saturday, 25 September 2010

When I'm 64... ha ha!

Posted on 00:54 by Unknown
Guys, I wrote this as an exclusive for Hindustan Times. The entire week has been frenetic , thanks to the heavy duty promos around the new book. The road show starts soon, which means I shall be in and out of Mumbai, and missing from this space more than usual. Do bear with me... it is my commitment as a writer to market the book to the best of my abilities. This was something taught to me by Dominique Lapierre after the launch of my first book. "Don't feel shy,'' the veteran advised sagely. "You have spent time and precious energy on this - writing is hard work. If you don't promote your own book, who will?" Wise words. He is right.I have the most at stake - I must go out there and do my best!
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One of the pleasures of doing these sort of promos involves the people one gets to me - young journos, photographers, publicists. This time it was my discovery of Uma Kadam - she has just been promoted as the Principal Photographer with the Times of India Group. Believe me, it is a big deal! You'll see her portrait of moi in the Sunday Times tomorrow. I was impressed by this 29- year-old woman's professionalism and positive thinking. Her coverage during 26\11 was so good, her editor, the very reticent Jaideep (Jojo) Bose, and her mentor Hoshi Jal, gave her pictures a great deal of play - those important images desrved very high visibility, and got it. Modest and adorable, Uma has been a press photographer for nine years. She wears her success lightly and does her job minus the slightest fuss. As does another ace photographer I have frequently worked with - Vikram Bawa. Congrats, you guys!
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Part -2 of the popular Television show, 'Walk the Talk' with Shekhar Gupta will be telecast on NDTV at 9 30pm tonight. The repeat is tomorrow at 3 30pm. Check it out... and post your candid comments ( I really look forward to them).
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I watched 'Wall Street - Money never Sleeps' last night with a great deal of nostalgia and a lump in my throat. The news about Michael Douglas suffering from throat cancer was on my mind, especially since his publicists have announced he won't be able to act again. I don't care what critics say - his older Gordon Gekko is still superbly nuanced - just this side of evil. Look out for the scene in which he dismisses Shia La Beouf with a wave of his hand, saying, "You die your death. I'll die mine." Oooooof! Broke my heart.
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Here's the HT piece....

Hum Jab Hongey Saath Saal Ke…
‘Hum Jab Hongey Saath Saal Ke…’ has been my theme song for the past two years. That I sing off key, is another matter.. Asha Bhonsale just turned 77 and celebrated her birthday performing at a rock concert in Singapore. Shabana Azmi joined the Sensational Sixties Club earlier this week and rocked her own party by dancing to the season’s big hit ‘Munni Badnaam Hui…. Darrrrrling tere liye.” Yup. That makes it official. Today’s sixty- year- olds are Item Girls with attitude. And as that delicious strap line for an unhealthy snack goes, ‘I am lovin’ it.’ Far too much is being made of youth, and how wonderful it is to be a part of the under -30 generation these days. You know what? Keep it! Youth, I mean. I swear I’d hate to be a young person in India today. Ooof …. total emotional atyachar, yaar! What can these dudes and dudettes India look forward to… come on, think about it? Unemployment, suicides, corruption, caste issues, communal issues, terror attacks, discrimination, quota systems,double digit inflation…. more corruption? Youth is definitely getting wasted on the young. From the heady sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll hedonism of the ‘60’s and ‘70’s… to this depressing mess??? By comparison, celebrating ones ‘Eksashthi’ ( 61st birthday) sounds positively sexy! I am having the best time of my life as a senior citizen – a far better time than I ever had as a broke, insecure, far-from-accomplished young thing. I mean… come on. Who needs struggle? Who needs the bloody tension of being considered cool or uncool based on the brand of jeans covering ones far from perfect butt? Naah. Youth and all things youthful are totally over rated. I see more worry lines on the faces of twenty something starlets( the bling and botox brigade) than on the 60+ and seriously gorgeous Hema Malini’s calm and contented visage. Dev Anand at well over 80, is a darn sight more stylish and does his sartorial layering with far more finesse than that Shirtless Wonderboy, Salman Khan. And yes, Dev Saab continues to be a chick magnet ( eat your heart out Ranbir, Imran, Shahid and all you other callow fellows). Really.Jawani ki Diwani is a huge, big con. Being jawan in India is a little like being a gay guy in a bordello – the equipment works, but there’s no application. When I look at the collective neuroses that has paralysed this generation of alarmingly young but essentially vague people, I thank my stars I was spared.
No Sir, we really are pretty okay at this age and stage. We have our lines (verbal and physical) in place. And what’s a li’l bit of cellulite idhar udhar between friends and accepting spouses? But that does not give us sleepless nights. We are entitled to our smugness! Our love affairs have always been with human beings not laptops, Blackberries and other gizmos.We lived in the real world, not a virtual one, and men had sex with real partners not Savita Bhabhi . Our communication was face-to-face instead of on facebook. At thirty, we were pretty sorted….we didn’t have to hang around dimly lit clubs waiting to meet some impossibly perfect God or Goddess, who, like Godot, didn’t bother to show up! We settled for the best ‘alliance’ going, moved into rented apartments and didn’t worry about emi’s and other such financial annoyances. We paid our bills with real money, not plastic. And most of our assets were tangible – mother’s gold bangles, father’s Rolex, that kind of stuff. We had the best parties and weddings which were not super productions or ‘events’ marketed by hawks counting every extra orchid and barfi. For our honeymoon, we didn’t think beyond Simla, Darjeeling or even sweet old neighbourhood hill stations like Mahableshwar. Istanbul, Ibiza or Sao Paolo for bachelorette blow outs? Not a chance! We held hands at soppy movies and licked the same ice cream cone by way of erotic symbolism. The ipill didn’t exist, and only bad girls ‘did it’ with their boyfriends.
There were always people with more money, better boobs, fancier cars, bigger homes. But the ‘Lifestyle’ disease had not grown into a lethal, full blown, worldwide virus that it is today. Of course, we died of jealousy when the neighbour bought a Fiat or Ambassador. But we also believed ‘mera number aa jayega’. Impossible is nothing? It’s not as dumb as it first sounds. We were a generation of believers. We naively believed Gordon Gekko when he stated, ‘Greed is good.’ Today’s kids chant ‘Money never sleeps’. Neither do they!
What the young in India need more than almost anything else today is a dream. I am just happy and relieved my generation got to live theirs. Picasso , that randy old goat had grandly declared, “ Youth has no age.”. It so doesn’t.
Botox for the soul, anyone??
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Sunday, 19 September 2010

26\11 ... two years later....

Posted on 08:35 by Unknown
This appeared in Sunday Times today....overwhelming reactions! Touched a raw nerve....

As another 26\11 anniversary rolls up…what’s changed?

It has happened. I guess it had to. Perhaps, it happened a few months… maybe a few years ago. Perhaps, it was always there, but swept under the carpet. Society’s dirty secret is finally out – everybody knows what it is, but nobody talks about it. Ten days ago I received a call from a friend. A Muslim friend. She sounded a little concerned. Her anxiety had to do with a nephew’s admission into one of Mumbai’s better colleges. His marks were good, his conduct , exemplary. He had been a prefect in his school, participated in several extra curricular activities. I asked what the hitch was in that case. She sounded most embarrassed as she said, “Well… we are Muslims… and that seems to be the problem in a lot of colleges.” I was shocked to hear this. ‘Are you sure that’s what it is?’ I said, not prepared to believe it was indeed the situation in some of the supposedly progressive South Mumbai educational institutions. My friend went on to narrate how her nephew had been subjected to blatant discrimination during interviews and told upfront it was his surname that came in the way. She once again apologized for the ‘trouble’ she was putting me through. She added, “ If the boy was not as bright, I would have told him to forget it, and do something else. But he is keen to study science and make a mark for himself – he has always been a good student. If he doesn’t get into a recognized college, his career is as good as over.”
I made a couple of calls to friendly, neighbourhood college principals and asked whether they were really screening students on the basis of religion. One of them denied it, the other one admitted sheepishly that such a directive was in place, but on an informal level. “We don’t want trouble,’’ the principal added virtuously. When I pressed and asked him to specify what sort of trouble a youngster like this boy could possibly cause, the principal replied, “ These days…. you never know… how can you trust these people.” What do you mean by ‘these people’? I persisted.The principal whispered, “ Leave it…. don’t make me spell it out…in any case, we don’t have a vacancy.” I called up another college. The person was enthusiastic and polite, saying their list was still open and the student I was recommending, definitely qualified etc. Then I was asked for the name. As soon as I mentioned it, his voice changed. ‘Let me cross check with the clerk… I think I made a mistake. So sorry… admissions were closed yesterday.” Finally, I spoke to a lady who heard me out and said, “Send the boy to me tomorrow morning. I’ll see what I can do.” This story has a happy ending – the boy got in.
But that’s because his aunt was in a position to make a few calls on his behalf. There are thousands like him in Mumbai and across India, who are up against an invisible wall, unable to move forward, determined not to look backwards, but stymied all the way. When I met the young man and his family, they had tears of gratitude in their eyes. The point is : I didn’t do them a favour. And neither did the college. He was entitled to receive the same access and treatment on the basis of merit alone. Any college should have held its doors open for him. Especially since the colleges he had applied to were in Mumbai and not some backward town in the back of the beyond. I felt intensely sad, as I accepted a box of mithai from his emotional relatives.It was as if they had crossed an impossible hurdle when it was just a routine matter of showing your mark sheet, paying the fees and getting in. Will this boy ever forget the humiliation he has been subjected to? Will his family not go back to those frustrating days when college after college turned them away, adopting some pretext or the other. Perhaps, this experience will toughen the lad and make him excel. Perhaps not. It is the ‘not’ that is worrying . Nearly every known privilege that a non-muslim counterpart of his can and does take for granted, is denied to him, in what was once a liberal, cosmopolitan city with great colleges that produced outstanding leaders in every field - people who came from multi religious backgrounds. Today, those same venerated temples of education are practicing a nasty version of religious profiling which is going to lead to major problems if it goes unchecked.
There is no getting away from the current polarisation . I used to kid myself that some of my Muslim friends were being ‘paranoid’ when they talked about ‘the problem’ ( as we had dubbed it ). That ‘problem’ pretty much covered everything– from getting a job, to finding accommodation. At the time ( post- 26\11), we believed it was a psssing phase that would disappear once everything ‘settled down’. Except that nobody quite knew what exactly was meant to settle down or even if that would ever happen. But we consoled ourselves saying sensitivities at that point were running high… people were angry and afraid. More than that , people were confused. Two years down the line, there are no alibis, no screens to hide behind. Positions have obviously hardened to such a degree that now city colleges have begun to follow their own quota system and turn down eligible students only because they are Muslim. We are a few days away from one of the most horrifying, most devastating, most tragic events that ripped the city apart. No, we cannot and must not forget what happened. That awful attack was the work of hard core terrorists trained to kill at random. What we are doing may be much worse – we are killing the spirit of innocents. The latter crime may have far more lethal repercussions!

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For those of you who missed Part 1 of 'Walk the Talk', you can catch it on the ndtv website. Someone sweet ( yoo hoo Aparna) did send me the link. And as you well know, I am terrible at all of this.... so, please look for it.

Oh, the book has arrived in book stores across India, and I am happy to brag ( just a little!), that the reactions have been amazing.

Want your verdict on this plan: I have been offered Round 2 of the Kingfisher Model Hunt as a judge. This year, it will be shot in Kerala, Kumarakom. While I really enjoyed myself last year in Goa, I'm a little worried about the time outlay this time.... especially since it overlaps with my book promotion activities. I won't have much turnaround time either, since I'll be in the Maldives for the prestigious Hay Literary Fest, right after.
Do it.... or dump it???
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      • Kalmadi as an Item Boy'...?
      • When I'm 64... ha ha!
      • 26\11 ... two years later....
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