"Inappropriate touching" - Bollywood Ishtyle

I wanted to share a few images of Heavenly Havana with my blogdosts. The first few are of the hotel we stayed in, which I absolutely loved, especially the 24x7 Verandah Bar with its wonderful Mojitos.
The little girl was celebrating her first birthday in the large public square, while close by a bride in sunny yellow was on her way to get married. Watching all this from his balcony was a Cuban guy ( the heat was obviously getting to him!), and in an Old Havana bar, a local dancer was showing off his sexy moves to an overwhelmed Canadian woman! I'm missing "Koo-bah!"
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This appeared in Bombay Times...



Frankly, most readers fell off their chairs while reading about a recent incident in Goa, where yesteryear’s actress,Ameesha Patel apparently had a flaming row with some guy and accused him of ‘inappropriate touching’. All this was reported in delicious detail in a weekly, and had the tittering classes tittering some more! After a stormy walk out from the mutual friend’s sangeet celebrations, the guy at the receiving end of the actresses’ wrath refused to apologise, insisting no such ‘inappropriateness’ had taken place. The same actress had also (allegedly) been told to ‘cover up’ by senior actor Sanjay Dutt recently, when she flashed far too much cleavage at another high profile function. I guess,her skimpy choli was considered ‘inappropriate’, too. This is plain ludicrous and shows the extent of the double standards that exist in Bollywood. What is good for the goose should be good for the gander, too. But when it comes to the females in our film industry, the males instantly gang up to supposedly ‘protect’ the lady’s honour. Meanwhile, the Big Boys themselves can pretty much lech, paw and ‘persuade’ even the most unwilling females to bed them ( it’s considered a ‘favour’, remember?). But show the same medieval-minded macho studs a woman with attitude, and they get Neanderthal. Ameesha Patel is a big girl and can look out for herself. She is closer to 40 than 30. If she chooses to flash her cleavage ( and she does that a lot!), it’s entirely her call. She doesn’t need a big brother to defend her modesty. About the ‘inappropriate touching’ … well, surely an experienced woman of the world like an Ameesha, knows the difference between a friendly pat and groping? For now, let’s leave the ‘inappropriateness’ of our item songs aside. It’s obviously one rule for performances on screen, and another for off-screen nautanki. It’s time our filmi ladies stood up for themselves and told the bullying hulks where to get off.

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Karachi Diaries....

From the top: With the Coco Chanel of Pakistan.
At a wonderful sunday brunch.
The lovely bride dressed in a traditional Indian designer lehenga.
Gorgeous ladies at a Sangeet.
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This appeared in Asian Age-Deccan Chronicle on Saturday...

Karachi Diaries

Clearly,I am a fast learner. Minutes after walking out of the Karachi International airport, after a rather eventful PIA flight from Mumbai ( more about that later), I noticed the printed t-shirt of our baggage handler.Here’s what it said, “I am a bomb technician.If you see me run,try and keep up.” I swear this is true. I looked at my local minder nervously and gulped. She was sweetly saying, ‘Welcome to Karachi,” as she instructed an armed guard in the front seat of the car to make sure we arrived safely at our hotel. I figured the best way to enjoy the next four days in Karachi was to do as the Karachiwalas do and pretend aal eez welllll. The short hop between what could have been sister cities ( Mumbai and Karachi) takes just an hour and a half. Recordings from the holy Quran are played right before take off. Most of the passengers on this particular flight were Karachiwalas. One of them, a blousy woman wearing an animal print outfit was irate as she fidgeted in her seat. She’d been deported by our Mumbai cops on arrival and she was not amused. “I’m losing so much business!” she kept screaming, till she was firmly asked to shut up. An elderly couple seated behind me didn’t like it at all when I reclined my seat later in the flight, to take a short nap. The woman kept kicking hard, till the stewardess intervened and offered me another seat. The old lady asked loudly, “Hindustani hai ya Pakistani?” I’m guessing she would have kicked regardless!
We ( Indians and Pakistanis) share so very many things, besides the obvious ones ( culture, cuisine, clothes,complexion). And yet, the one thing that separates us is temperament.Mutual hostility, I can understand. But the total suspension of logic is harder to accept. Several people I spoke to referred to the Mumbai 26\11 terror attacks, and tried to convince me Pakistan had nothing to do with what took place. Who then could have orchestrated those attacks? And where did Qasab come from? “Look, wherever he came from, it wasn’t in a dinghy from our shores. That route is impossible to navigate without getting caught by naval patrol boats. If you ask us, the whole thing was an American-Israeli plot to discredit Pakistan in the eyes of the world.Why would Pakistanis attack a Jewish place? If it’s not the Americans, it’s your own people who did this. Please stop blaming us.” Well, since I am not top cop Rakesh Maria from the ATS, and was a temporary mehmaan in a neighbouring country, it seemed wiser to order some more food and change the topic.
“Would you like to meet Dawood?” an influential gentleman asked me casually, like he was asking me whether I wanted to meet a famous Pakistani cricketer or movie star. He added, “His home is less than 500 yards from where we are right now.” Suddenly, the delicious chicken piece I was about to swallow threatened to choke me. This was so unexpected. I instantly jumped at the opportunity and asked him to fix it up anytime…that night itself…. the next day. Another friend , listening to this conversation, interrupted quickly to say, “Don’t talk nonsense, yaar. Dawood doesn’t live in Pakistan, remember?” Someone else laughed, “ I ran into him at the hospital when I’d gone for a blood test recently.” This conversation was going nowhere. The offer was promptly changed. “ Okay. No Dawood. But if you want to meet Chhota Shakeel…?” I declined politely before standards fell further.
Though Veena Malik is the one who generates maximum contempt for stripping in India ( “ surely , there are better ways to make money… what a shameless woman. India will use her and throw her like they did with Meera”) , our politicians fare no better, especially Narendra Modi. The biggest fear seems to revolve around Modi becoming India’s prime minister. I told my local friends to relax – that’s not likely to happen any time soon, or at all. “Hindu Right Wingers” are another concern, and it’s no use saying these fears are somewhat paranoid and unfounded. At a wonderful mehendi-sangeet hosted in a grand mansion, I talked to a few of the youngsters between their choreographed dance numbers ( Dhinka Chika and Chikni Chameli, followed by Kolaveri Di). Their fascination for Bollywood gossip cancelled out any fears they may have harboured about India attacking Pakistan. Similarly, extended conversations with the bleached blond Begum Brigade over a long brunch, revealed their obsession for desi fashion and an insatiable curiosity about society scandals across the border… with zero interest in political affairs. I have to say this: in terms of hospitality, they beat us hollow! There is just no comparison. In terms of beauty, Pakistani women are streets ahead. Where we score is in our basic ‘buddhi’ and ‘dimaag’. Our education system as compared to our neighbour’s, is far superior. And our society appears more stable. Divorce and multiple marriages are so rampant, not an eyebrow was raised at a ladies’ lunch when in response to an innocuous question – “ How’s your husband?” the reply was a prompt, “Which one, jaani? I’ve had so many of them!” But I’ll give the last word to a kind porter who saw me through the chaotic maze at the airport while checking in for my return flight, “ Pakistan needs a Khomieni. He really cleaned up his country and killed all the corrupt people.” Somehow, future prime minister Imran Khan does not quite fit the bill in this regard! Just as well…

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Priyanka:Ishtyle alone isn't enough!

Okay. Her dimples and sarees didn't get the votes for Bhaiyya in U.P. and Akhilesh is the new God on the block. Why not? 38 and raring to go. A.Y. has turned out to be the real game changer in this key election. Is Akhilesh Yadav the face of New India? Is he the Obama we have been waiting for? Too early to crown him just yet. But why do I get the feeling the results would have been qualitatively different had Priyanka taken the plunge???
People are asking whether Mayawati is learning to dance to the Baby Elephant's Walk?
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This appeared in The Week. Timed to co-incide with the Fashion Week in Delhi and slap (hopefully embarrass!) a few of those over- rated designers strutting their bakwas, bekaar stuff on the catwalk.

Priyanka G : Ishtyle icon 2012
Eat your hearts out, fashion designers. There’s one truly stylish individual in India who doesn’t need you! She doesn’t need designer gear, nor high street labels . Nor does she need to hire the services of a pricey stylist to put herself together each time she steps out. The fact still remains that Priyanka Gandhi is perhaps the most photographed woman on the sub-continent! Her every public appearance, is a media event. She hogs more mind space than India’s biggest fashionistas. And she does so effortlessly clad in nothing more ‘fashionable’ than a simple hand spun cotton saree, worn with a modest blouse with three quarter length sleeves. What could be more basic than that? Even so, these days Priyanka tops every poll that celebrates style.Howcome? It has to do with the x-factor. Some call it personality. Others prefer to describe it as charisma. Priyanka has it. Today, it is out there, and there’s no hiding her enormous crowd-pulling skills anymore. There are some blessed individuals who project undiluted magnetism .They don’t need image consultants or media managers to hog the limelight. Of course, it helps to be seriously good looking, which Priyanka most certainly is. But what cannot be faked is charm. Natural, unadulterated charm. When Priyanka smiles, that fetching smile reaches her eyes. When she waves to the crowds, she connects spontaneously… instantly. This is a gift, and so long as she does not take that gift for granted or misuse it, Priyanka will continue to win countless hearts.
Diana, dubbed the ‘People’s Princess’ was another such person. Except that Diana had an army of advisors who safe guarded her precious image ( not that they could help her when she most needed protection). Besides, she was dressed by the world’s top couturiers. Priyanka uses no make up and wears no jewellery . Diana’s tiaras, carefully coiffed hair, and slinky gowns enhanced her natural sex appeal. Priyanka’s admirers point out her wholesome, fresh faced, non-synthetic appearance, which reminds old timers of her imperious grandmother, Indira Gandhi . But unlike Indira, Priyanka’s personality is distinctly softer and decidedly feminine. Her impressive height and toned body would make her the darling of the fash- frat, if she but chose to play an obliging mannequin or a designer’s muse. Though she has been frequently spotted at Fashion Week, occupying the front row, her own outfits even at these high profile events have been discreet and understated. Clearly, Priyanka knows what she is most comfortable in - and that’s her own skin.
World leaders these days, women in particular, are under impossible public scrutiny. Michelle Obama, being the U.S. President’s wife, cannot escape a laser like examination of her wardrobe, with hundreds of international fashion sites, micro-analyzing her every public appearance. It is said women like her and Carla Bruni can make a young,unknown designer’s career go through the roof by wearing his or her outfit to a high profile event. That would hold true for Priyanka, too. She, more than any Bollywood actress, could be the game changer in the fashion business, where a celebrity’s endorsement counts for a lot. Instead, she chooses to support unknown weavers and promote craft skills of neglected regions of India. Much like her mother and grandmother before her. This is sending out a powerful message to the rapidly growing fashion industry in India. Young designers, particularly from the North East , are focusing on reviving looms, embroideries, even silhouettes that reflect regional aesthetics and sensibilities. Urban designers who have already made it big in the business are rethinking their strategies. Perhaps, scaling down on bling. Will skimpy, bikini tops worn with low slung sarees ( beware: Ameesha Patel is on the prowl), become a thing of the past soon? Will the wretched mermaid-style, embellished lehenga disappear altogether? I have my fingers crossed. My hopes are pinned on a graceful young woman, who could well become India’s ‘saree champion’. If someone like Priyanka does indeed manage to revive interest in traditional , beautifully woven sarees, chances our we won’t have to kiss the classic six-yards goodbye. Or else, the saree may go the way of the kimono in Japan and get converted into nothing more than a ceremonial dress that’s pulled out and clumsily draped for special occasions like weddings and funerals. About Priyanka’s severe , solid coloured saree blouses, I’m not as sure. Priyanka, with her long, slim arms can pull them off without looking frumpy. The rest of us unfortunate creatures do need a little oomph to liven up our sarees…. and lives!

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Ab Mumbai door nahi...

We hit the hometrack running. Which is a good thing and a bad thing. London is cold and damp ( so what else is new?), and after blissed out days spent in glorious , sunny Italy, this is such a let down. But here's some good news : I had the best airline meal ever on the British Airways flight from Naples to Gatwick. It was delicious, piping hot, served with a smile AND there were 5 options to choose from!! Let's see what Jet Airways produces during the long flight to Mumbai. The Jet service is outstanding, the food is generally terrific, if a bit too heavy. The flight attendants look after each and every passenger most attentively. What more do you want? Hugs and kisses?
Yesterday was International Women's Day, and it was slightly strange spending it in a charming but distant land. However, I noticed countless flower sellers along the narrow , winding streets around Positano, selling bunches of bright yellow flowers. I asked Giuseppe, our local chauffeur, and he said those were Mimosa blossoms that men give to women on this day. It is a tradition. My husband promptly rushed to produce a bunch for me, and Giuseppe took a picture. Sweet.
As i said my goodbyes to the malevolent Vesuvius ( it really does look pretty menacing!), I thought of all the volcanic situations back in India. The winds of change are blowing. Change is HERE! We ignore our symbolic Vesuvius at our own peril! Jago, Congress, Jago!
On a lighter note, I went to buy some mozzarella at the airport in Naples. Guess what I discovered? Our Sikh community controls most of the Mozzarella production in the region. There is a Sardarji village in Italy dedicated to producing Italy's favourite cheese made from buffalo milk. I wish I knew how to make a desi version, considering the milk we drink in Mumbai comes from buffaloes, too. Blogdosts : any ideas on this front??

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Never say never in Naples...

It is my last day in Italy, and Naples has been a revelation. It is not a particularly pretty city. In fact, it's pretty seedy and decidedly dangerous. Being an ancient port that sits at the base of an unpredictable volcano ( Vesuvius) and has Pompeii to flaunt in its backyard, Naples has been conquered so many times that locals claim there is a bit of every known human race in them. But it is the areas around the bay ( often described as the most beautiful bay in the world) that draw tourists from across the world, especially in summer. Right now, It's cold and damp. There are hundreds of Chinese and Japanese visitors flocking to Capri and beyond, but are the locals complaining? Hell, no! Given the shaky state of the economy, every euro is welcome. It's actually a pretty good time to be in Italy. One can bargain without shame and get the best deals in town. Locals insist they really don't care about Berlusconi's wild sex life so long as he agrees to reduce taxes! Most oldie goldies admire his guts and get a gleam in their rheumy eyes while discussuing the man. They insist it's all thanks to the tomatoes, olive oil and fish. That is their secret for a healthy, robust life, free of disease. They love their cherry tomatoes, gigantic lemons and fresh sea bass which they cook in lemon leaves ( yummy!). They also claim the local mozzarella is the best in Italy... and I believe them.
Capri, Sorrento, Amalfi.... God really took his time creating these spectacularly beautiful areas, where life is enviably languid and four hour siestas, mandatory. I have to confess I'm a bit sad to leave. I keep hearing Dean Martin crooning love songs from the '50's... and his voice makes me cry a little. There is a full moon hanging precariously ouside the balcony of my charming hotel which was built in 1870. The mood is mellow... and Mumbai, for once, is not as powerful a magnet, pulling me back to reality... and home.

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'' Call Me Raabert....."

This appeared last Sunday....Before the RESULTS..



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This is all terribly confusing. First, Priyanka Gandhi calls herself a frog. Then Rahul Baba does ditto-ditto. And says, if my sis is a frog, then I’m a frog , too. That makes it two frogs in the pond… err, family. Then along comes an Easy Rider on a motorbike. But he’s no frog. He’s Robert. Robert Vadra.And nobody knows what to do with the dashing guy in designer shades. Not even the two frogs. One frog is Vadra’s wife. The other, his brother-in-law. Clearly, they weren’t expecting company. But hello! ‘Call me Raabert….” is right there. And from the looks of it, he ain’t going anywhere. “ I married into a political family….” Robert offered by way of an explanation, when he took the tentative plunge into politics last month. And that was that. Whether India’s premiere political family had any inkling about Easy Rider roaring off into the sunset with his band of Biker Boys, remains unclear. But going by the subdued official response to the First Son-in-law’s virgin foray into the political badlands of Uttar Pradesh, some instant strategic thinking will be required. And no, it’s not enough for Abhishek Manu Singhvi to issue polite, discreet statements that basically say very little, besides: “ Hell , no! We don’t really know what the devil is going on. But we aren’t jumping with joy at this unexpected turn of events.” A careful decoding of Singhvi’s guarded comment (“We have nothing to add after Priyanka’s clarification,”) reveals the prevailing anxiety within the First Family, with Mama Sonia caught in a bit of a bind. It isn’t the best situation for a mum to be caught in. First, both her bachchas declare they are, in fact ,frogs. Then comes Easy Rider with his Hell’s Angels, and makes it to all the channels and papers. This was certainly not a part of the master plan.But Robert Vadra has definitely added the much needed spice to the khichdi in U.P. Let’s see who suffers from indigestion now.
The buzz in Delhi about Easy Rider’s political ambitions has been doing the rounds for a while. It’s just the fear factor that has stopped everybody from talking publicly about it. That there was trouble brewing in paradise is again a purani kahani. Political watchers were not sure whether the alleged trouble was manufactured or real. The fact that Priyanka was seen hanging around Mama Gandhi more and more, was taken as a sign that Priyanka was merely being a good daughter and helping out during a medical and political crisis. Those in the know whispered there was much more to Priyanka’s involvement in the day-to-day affairs of the party. It was never openly discussed but the ‘Robert factor’( as it was euphemistically dubbed) was causing enormous concern. Today, now that it’s all out there, the question is : how does one deal with it on a long term basis? But such is the paranoia surrounding the family, that most people pretend they know nothing, have heard nothing and there is nothing.
Robert Vadra hard to ignore. Even if one did not know of his existence but were to spot him in a restaurant, chances are one would ask, “Who’s that guy. That one… with the tight tee and those biceps?” Robert resembles a movie actor from the ‘fifties or ‘sixties. He is beefier than Salman Khan, and with that rakish moustache and swagger, anybody with any sense will quickly conclude, ‘You don’t want to mess with this guy.” From the looks of it, his decision to jump into the political arena was taken without consulting anybody – not even his wife. Perhaps the poor chap was sick of waiting on the sidelines playing second fiddle to the first and second most important women in India. It’s a pretty wimpish role for a tough guy to play. Robert may have been restless and raring to go. And now (he may have finally figured out) is as good a time as any. In fact, Robert’s timing is superb! And he isn’t shying away from spelling out his ambitions. If his brazen attitude is embarrassing the First Family, that’s too bad. It’s okay for the two frogs to keep repeating they aren’t looking for political office. Easy Rider is more upfront. Oh yes, he’d like to play a political role, declared the son-in-law unabashedly. What else should Robert have done? And how long should he have waited? This is a new, unexpected twist in the script which is now called , “Dilli’s Damaad Also Rises.”
It is a tough nut to crack. If Robert ups the dilemma further and decides to ignore / defy the diktats of the High Command, he will be forcing a confrontation.. Robert’s no quitter. And he too has well-connected friends in high places. Flexing muscles comes easily to our guy. He must have thought about the repercussions of taking on several powerful loyalists. If he decides to ride solo, that will be the biggest political coup in the current scenario. But Easy Rider must also realize that without the absolute backing of his wife’s parivaar, it’s going to be a really bumpy roadtrip for him and his Biker Boys. Khair, if all else fails,there is always Dabbang -2.

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Ola!! Havana was heaven!

Just left what may turn out to be the hottest destination for well heeled tourists in the near future - Havana. I went there expecting very little and have become a new convert! I still don't smoke cigars! I don't smoke, period! Nor do I drink well- aged Cuban Rum. Errrr.... I don't drink Rum. And there is nothing to shop for, apart from Che t-shirts, caps and mugs ( I bought! I bought!). But I did discover a very proud people. Proud of their identity. Proud of their nation ( just 12 million Cubans). Proud of their culture ( what music!). And generally unafraid of what the world thinks of them. That's confidence. The Cuban peso is nearly as strong as the Euro. And nothing is cheap here, least of all those coveted cigars. And no, the magnificent Cohibas ( grand fathers of all great cigars) are not rolled on bare female thighs as rumoured!
The cuisine may not be too sophisticated ( very basic and tasteless, actually), but a couple of outstanding restaurants are worth a visit. Particularly, Le Chansonier, which I was told was the big favourite of our Salman Khan and Katrina Kaif while they were shooting in Havana recently. Then there is the outstanding La Guarida in an old Palador ( residence), which the NYT rates highly. It is virtually impossible to get a booking there. It is also the locale for that delightful movie, ' Like water for Chocolate'.
Since we have always enjoyed a 'Hindi- Cuban' bhai bhai relationship with the country, I wasn't surprised to see a statue of Mahatma Gandhi in a beautiful park encircled by gigantic Banyan trees. More in my next post. Gotta run. Flight leaving for Genoa, Naples in a few minutes.
Ciao for now!

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