Shravan Ka Mahina and all that....

I am still in BMM mode, as you can tell! This is just to give you some idea of the scale. Bhojan for 4,000 people in one go is quite a feat.... and what a bhojan!

That's our regular Blogdost ( and my good friend!) Aparna Velankar. She is the erudite person who opened up the Marathi world for me when she translated my first book ( she has translated three so far, and is working on the fourth). As a very successful author and journalist (Lokmat Group), Aparna enjoys a wide readership, not just in India but overseas as well. Here we are at the BMM dinner. I can't resist telling you about Aparna's Paithani tunics, which were so smart and attractive, she was constantly stopped by delegates wanting to know the source! I got it out of her, but am not telling!

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I love Shravan with all its rituals. I feel chaste and 'pure', observing strict monday fasts and eating shudh vegetarian for a month. It makes me feel terribly virtuous! But more than that, I enjoy the discipline. This monday, I went to the historic Babulnath Temple at Chowpatty for the evening aarti. I was delighted to see how well organised the whole thing was, with young volunteers to keep the surging crowds moving along briskly in orderly lines. It was just the sight of the pumped up security at the temple premises that disheartened me. Well... this is the real state of the world today. Who knows which crazed person is lurking in the shadows armed with explosives? Babulnath has been a favourite haunt since my college days. It continues to retain its old magic, particularly the darkened lair where sadhus with matted hair play the dumru vigourously and the air is thick with 'that' smoke ( one can get high just by hanging around and breathing!). Post-aarti, appropriately uplifted in spirits, I took my children for a Faraal Feast ( it's a Shravan special), to my all time favourite vegetarian restaurant - Soam. 10,000 calories later, we rolled home, happily satiated - no, 'trupt'! Like I said - I love Shravan. Even if it makes me gain, not lose kilos , while I fast!

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Chicago Calling! And Kween Kat, too!

Someone, please tell me - does Chicago's most famous resident live in this apartment or not? It's a great looking building, and one of the priciest, thanks to its waterfront location. I was told the real estate developer convinced investors he'd sold a flat to Oprah - and boom! went the price. That's the power of true celebrity!

Chicago retains its unique position as the most dramatic city, architecturally speaking, in America, and even the rest of the world. The Sears Towers may have been renamed, but nobody remembers or cares . They are a symbol of the city, just as much as the early Anish Kapoor 'Bean' in the Millennium Park, that reflects not just the city's sleek skyline, but the sky, too. This picture was taken by desi tourists from Kolkata, who walked up for a quick chat. Speaking Bangla in Chicago was fun!

Legendary American architect Frank Lloyd Wright would have been proud of today's Chicago. I took a canal tour from the bridge across the famous Wrigley's building. It was informative and enjoyable, including the guide's asides on the Magnificent Mile closeby. Did I shop there? Yes. But only at Macy's, where I bought some terrific 'jeggings' that saw me through the rest of the long trip.

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This appeared in Bombay Times last week...



What Makes Kat the Smartest Actor in Bollywood?



From a ‘Goongi Goodiya’ to a female superstar is no small achievement, especially for a foreigner who did not speak a word of Hindi when she got her Bollywood break. It is really quite an extraordinary story, and one must hand it to Katrina Kaif ( shall we start calling her Kween Kat?) for pulling off a major coup. Today, there is nobody in her league. And not a single person in the extra critical, highly competitive, super bitchy world of Bollywood has anything nasty to say about the desi Barbie Doll. How did she do it? Well, if one discounts the Salman factor, I’d say she’s got to where she has because she happens to be extraordinarily smart! Plus, hardworking, disciplined and pleasant at all times. Had that not been the case would she have been able to juggle her career, all those besotted men in her life, her fans and family…. why her daily routine which by by standards is exceedingly punishing? All this, minus stress , minus tantrums, minus attitude, minus scandal. Managing Salman is in itself a major feat. That she has done so even after the break –up of their intimate relationship ( something she refused to acknowledge publicly) says a lot about her capacity to handle her emotional life very shrewdly displaying rare maturity and grace. It’s amazing and amusing that she kept three guys happy on her birthday eve, with a hop, skip and jump across studios and party venues to greet ( separately, of course) SRK, Salman and possibly Ranbir. Juggler Kat and her jadoo, gasped admirers !Despite years and years of being identified as ‘Salman’s girl’, she stayed miles away from any camp. She cleverly projected herself as a ‘friend of the Khan family’ and was very visible at all the major Khan do’s in the past. To give the entire credit for her success to Salman would be wrong. But this much is true, Salman’s support for any young actress ensures two things – a great break and total protection from other industry wolves. As Salman’s lady love, Katrina had to deal with just one guy – Salman himself. Since nobody wants to mess with this Khan, Kat became instantly out-of-bounds for other heroes circling around for the kill.

She worked strenuously to learn even a few basic sentences in Hindi. Her ‘speech’ in ‘Rajniti’ was nothing short of a triumph. More recently, she managed a few , simple baby sentences in Hinglish for ‘Zindagi…” relying more on her flirtatious chemistry with Hritik Roshan ( the kiss could have lingered some more!). As of now, Super Kat has no rivals. Her personality is a big plus – whether on-screen or off it, Katrina projects a certain wholesomeness that provides a sharp contrast to the other slightly trashy, definitely fixed up rivals. And those girls can actually act!! Good one, Katrina

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When in Chicago.....

The Opening Ceremony was kicked off with an audio visual that traced the rather touching journey of early Maharashtrian immigrants to America and Canada. These are some of the participants.

This is our dynamic, articulate and ambitious Senator Swati Dandekar from Iowa. In addition to all her impressive political credentials, Swati is a great cook - she gave me a fantastic recipe for the humble 'begun bhaaja' that is kind on the heart and low on calories.

This image is just to give you an idea of scale. Over 90 performers on stage and not a single missed step, bungled up cue or off-key singing for over two breathless hours!

I swear this should be on Broadway! I loved every dazzling minute of this professionally impeccable show put together by Ashok Hande ( the troupe is booked all year round and across the world)titled Marathi Baana. It is rich in colour and texture. Very lively... and ummmm.... deliciously parochial. I love it!

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This appeared in the Sunday Times yesterday...





When in Chicago, do as the Maharashtrians do…



The elaborately dressed, sherwani-clad gentleman on the huge stage inside the gigantic McCormick Place in Chicago politely requested the 4,000 delegates attending the bi-annual BMM (Brihan Maharashtra Mandal), to stand up for the ‘rashtriya sangeet’. Two demure young girls dressed in fairy clothes came on stage with hand held mikes and broke into the national anthem. Only, it was not ‘Jana Gana Mana’ they were singing, but the ‘Stars and Stripes’. Initially,I was slightly jolted. Wait a minute, this has to be a mistake, I said to myself. Why are they singing the wrong anthem? I stared in utter disbelief as several lovely ladies draped in exquisite Paithani sarees and wearing the unmistakable Maharashtrian ‘Nath’, stood on the dais like Michelle Obama, right hand over the heart, mouthing the words of the American National anthem ( which was followed by the Canadian one ). Finally, we came to ‘our’ anthem, the Indian one, and the same ladies promptly switched gears, covered their heads with the saree pallav, to resemble Pratibha Patil on Republic Day. Surrealistic? For sure. But this is a contemporary slice of America that is worth examining. After recovering from my initial culture shock, I thought about the impressive opening ceremony and the rather moving sequence in which three national anthems were sung. Appropriate and perfect.Here I was with 4,000 bona fide, card holding American - not Indian citizens … and how stupid of me to forget that.Their allegiance to the adopted country is complete and transparent. As it should be. Then came some more confusion - the strange accents – Shivaji Park meets New Jersey. Most of these highly successful , first generation immigrants had studied at Marathi medium schools ( very proud of that factoid, too). Their spoken English was more ‘Ingreji’ than anything else, while their adopted names (Steve, Debbie, Patty, Dave) reflected freshly-minted identities. The same ones needed at competitive workplaces which viewed these super smart professionals as hard working careerists out to make it in the country they now called their own. That they have made it big, was evident from the confidence and swagger displayed by them as they net worked, showed off and generally behaved like any other upwardly mobile Americans , undaunted by the debt crisis ( raging at the time) or even by the many contradictions in their current lives. I marveled at how easily they negotiated cultural differences without losing out on their core identity. Though, even after the first few rounds of introductions in shudh Marathi to meet ‘‘Aapla Mike from Mahim”, I was left feeling a little disoriented and incredulous.

The fact that such organisations in America are rapidly growing ( Bengali, Gujarati and Telegu representation is vast and impressive), shows a new assertiveness that is finding its voice as a political force to reckon with. One of the prominent delegates at the BMM, was a dynamic senator from Iowa, a sprightly lady called Swati Dandekar who wants you to know she means business . She stood out for more than one reason – she being the only woman dressed in a pant suit, just like Hillary Clinton. Plus, she was also the only person who preferred to make her speech in American- English, not Marathi. Smart move.As a rising star in the Democratic Party, Swati is well aware of her exalted position. She is in politics to represent her constituency, and not just Maharshtrians from back home. She wants you to know, she is an American first and everything else next. She is certainly on the right track as she focuses her attention on core local issues and prefers to steer clear of Marathi Manoos politics. When some of the organizers appealed to her to use her clout as senator in order to push for visas denied to some performing artists from Mumbai, she flatly refused. “I cannot compromise my ethical standards,” she stated even as frantic committee members wondered how to make up for the absence of a noted theatre company – ‘natak’ being the highlight of such conventions . Shreyas Talpade filled in sportingly and beautifully. Even so,perhaps to compensate for any shortfall in the cultural feast, the enthusiastic members of the Food Committee had roped in a local caterer to keep delegates in puran poli heaven. The other delicacies on offer included an outstanding array of traditional Maharashtrian cuisine - asli ‘pakwana’ painstakingly sourced by an enterprising Gujarati caterer and transported to the venue in refrigerated container trucks. The non-stop feasting began with breakfast specialities at 6 30 a.m. and ended with an eight course banquet at night. All of this, pulled off with clockwork precision, so as to catch the much looked forward to after-dinner entertainment which included a spectacular show by Ashok Hande, a former fruit merchant, who now heads an entertainment empire that showcases the best of Maharastrian folk traditions all over the world. Yes, there was a great deal of bonhomie, bonding and Marathi Pride on parade during those three amazing days, but none of it appeared phony. Not even the energetic dance performances presented by children who had yet to visit India, but somehow stayed connected to the matrubhumi through desi music and dance . These kids know their baseball, not cricket. They celebrate Thanksgiving and X’Mas along with Holi and Diwali. But there is no confusion in their minds as to where they belong. They belong to America. Period. America is unambiguously their homeland and they are very proud of it. They also know that if they work as hard as their parents, they will make it big here. Really, really big. Like a teenager jauntily told me in American-Marathi, “We will have a Maharashtrian President in the White House by 2050.” Now that’s what I call true American ambition. What fun. An ‘Aapla President’ in USA. I totally love the idea of puran polis being served to world leaders at State Banquets. Let’s raise a glass of the best ‘aamsolachi kadhi’ to that.

And that's the main man himself - Ashok Hande, whose witty sutradhar took swipes at everyone from Vilasrao Deshmukh to Suresh Kalmadi!

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Mexico images....

BlogAmigos, I picked this jewel of a hotel because of its history and grandeur. Gran Hotel Ciudad de Mexico, is very special. Not because it's the priciest ( it isn't), but because it is wonderfully located, small and personalised. AND - this is important - it is right on the magnificent square, in front of the Presidential Palace. The Revolution rages on in Meh-ico ( as locals call it), as protestors camp out in the square and raise slogans all day and half the night.

These images show the hotel in all its splendour. Please note the magnificent Tiffany-style roof ( believed to be the largest such in the world), and the ancient Art Deco elevator ( which works)! The massive chandelier at the entrance dazzles all those who walk in.... and I sure am glad we did!!

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It's Mumbai ... and I love it.

I love Marilyn. Don't you? I guess Chicago loves her a whole lot, too. I took this picture at the risk of my life! Marilyn ( all 26 feet of her) towers over a busy downtown square, and ever since she found a temporary home in this windy city, shutter bugs have been crowding the area beneath her billowing ( and very iconic)skirt.There is no dearth of visitors for this delicious lady whose best friends were diamonds. Voyeurs from all nationalities gaze upwards ( she wears white knickers underneath, in case you were wondering). The controversial statue has attracted a lot of flack from residents who find it trashy and frivolous. But I think it's fun and it certainly made me smile, as I dodged traffic to get a closer look at the world's most famous blond.
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It's back to Mumbai and frantic writing. I had barely three hours of sleep today. My writer's wrist is acting up yet again... but it feels so damn good to be seated at my favourite spot, with a familiar laptop and the reassuring sounds and smells emanating out of the busy kitchen close by. But one big and very comforting presence is sadly missing from this scene of balanced and harmonious domesticity. We lost Kiara last sunday. It is a loss that I shall never get over - she was by far the most beautiful red head in the world. Yes, sleeker and sexier than even M.M.
Farewell, my lovely.

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Au Revoir Brussels..

One good thing about being in Brussels is that I polished up my Francaise, since that is the lingua franca here, and got away more because of my attitude than my proficiency in French. Oh, I am done with the national dish, moule frittes forever. Don't these guys get tired of mussels and french fries? I guess not, but after two meals of the stuff, I am permanently done , since both are over rated. I spent the day wandering around on my own, which was a bit of a bore ... till I ran into a group of neuro surgeons from India. They were so earnest and sweet, as we posed for pictures and chatted about the conference they were attending here. It has been a drippy, wet day. I am not looking forward to a formal dinner tonight. Unless it is at La Brasserie de Bruxelles, across the street from the Jacques Brel Foundation. I used to worship Brel during my distant romantic youth, and listen to his spoken songs especially the one made famous by Neil Diamond which was called If You Go Away. I still cry each time I hear it. Brel was an iconic poet and it was great to run into his large portraits in the pretty square. Especially after a couple of glasses of Sancerre sipped at the most famous people watching cafe called Delirium.
Am I glad to be heading home tomorrow. BTW, it has to be said, our Jet Airways is a far, far better way to fly to Europe and America. It has been an excellent experience all the way. Cannot say the same about the third rate service from MATRIX, the service provider for international cell phones. Two of my chips were expired ones, and the third a dud. I shall demand my money back on my return, for sure. Ciao for now....

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Brussels and Brugge

Superb weather helps. The sun is out and so are hundreds of tourists. This is such an enchanting and friendly city, I cannot believe I waited for more than twenty years to return. Changing hotels and shifting to Hotel Amigo has been an inspired and wise decision since it is so perfectly located, just a minute away from the historic Grand Place . The cuisine here in Brussel is by far the best Europe has to offer and leaves Paris hopelessly behind in the food stakes. We have enjoyed three outstanding meals thanks to the recommendations made by the concierge. But between all the beer samplings and chocolates , each time I turned on the television set, I caught a haggard and decidedly sheepish Dhoni sounding very defensive and apologetic. For a change, cricket made it to the CNN bulletin which carried a longish clip with our Rajdeep Sardesai, who did not mince his words while ticking off our red faced Boys in Blue.
Brugge in reality looks even better than it does in the movies. Medieval and perfect, with all those canals and horse carriages. We asked our friendly waiter at the sixty four year old restaurant on the square La Civiere D,Or, about the movie and he said he had not bothered to watch it after watching the unit shoot the film in the square over five long months.
I am ready to go home... am sick of living out of a suitcase and eating strange food , gourmet or otherwise. Now for some serious varan bhaat with a dollop of home made tup.
More from Mumbai.
Au revoir mon amies.

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