India's BYTs : Bright Young Things

This appeared in Sunday Times today....

India’s BYTs…. Bright Young Things

While the War of the Generals rages on and the wall of BRICS reveals countless cracks, somewhere in small town India, wonderful things are happening, quietly and minus fanfare. A young engineering student from Allahabad bagged an unbelievable 1.3 crores a year job with social networking site Facebook, and the country smiled. Tanuj Nandan, in charge of placements at the Motilal Nehru National Institute of Technology, declared triumphantly, “ This is also one of the biggest job offers made to alumnus of any technical institution of the country.” The brilliant student comes from a humble family in Kanpur, and had to pass nine grueling telephonic interviews before receiving the plum offer that will change his life. Soon,the young man will pack his bags and relocate to Menlo Park, California.Yes, such a long journey!But, what a break!
In Muscat last week, I got talking to a Kashmiri salesman in a carpet shop. He’d been in Oman for over twenty years, leaving his family behind in the Valley. He was due for his bi-annual visit when I met him. We got talking and he mentioned his three daughters back home, his eyes shining with undisguised pride. “Doctors! All three girls …” We chatted about their future, marriage prospects, hopes and expectations. He was very candid and clear about their goals, and came across as an enlightened father, completely in tune with the times. Similarly, a few weeks earlier, I met the young daughter of an antique dealer from Mumbai’s Chor Bazaar. She’d qualified as a computer scientist, as had her sister. Both were professors at a prestigious South Mumbai college. As for the father, he continued selling colonial furniture from a tiny shop in the crowded bazaar. And no, he didn’t want his daughters to join the trade. He had worked hard to educate the girls. And he wanted them to make their lives and careers on their own terms. The young girl looked at her father with immense gratitude and said, “I realize how tough it has been for him. I offered to set up a website to help expand his business. But he prefers to do it the old-fashioned way through word of mouth and good will.” Ditto for the carpet seller, who looked a happy man selling exquisite Persian carpets to international celebrities staying at the magnificent hotel in which his shop was located. Of course, he missed India.But this was his life, and he loved it.
Whether it’s the brilliant student from Allahabad, or the doctors from Kashmir and the computer scientists from Mumbai, there is a sense of hope and optimism for today’s ambitious generation that cannot be cynically devalued or diminished. Contrast their stories with the story of a thirty something wine maker I spoke to outside Naples last month. Here was a man born into privilege, educated at the London School of Economics, who went on to become an investment banker with one of the world’s most powerful financial firms.But, he had thrown it all up to come back to the family- owned vineyard in Italy.Why?He took his time to respond. His answer was thought provoking. “I belong to a generation that has woken up to a rather grim reality, which is the fact that our parents enjoyed a far better quality of life than I can afford or hope to match in future. This is so contrary to our history where each new generation upped the game and took it to a higher level.” He was smart enough to recognize the big change sweeping across Europe. It is the youth paying the price for an economic downturn they had nothing to do with. Does he foresee a reversal of the current phenomenon? No, he doesn’t. He knows he’ll have to work much harder, and earn less than his father or grandfather. It’s a tough call. He is married, but has postponed having kids. “We can’t afford them,” he admitted . So, what happens next? He surprised me with his response. “I’m looking at relocating to Singapore.” Why not India? He hesitated before responding, “Safety.”
The War of the Generals has announced the tattered state of India’s security to the world. Despite the dirt flying around, we still have our boy from Allahabad, and others like him, doing India proud. Let’s keep smiling!

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Mine is bigger than yours....

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I read with an enormous amount of amusement that Fidel Castro asked Pope Benedict, "So, what do you do?" in Havana , a few days ago. As you can probably tell, I am still thinking of Cuba. And wondering why the officials at the Cuban Embassy in Delhi are so mad at me for my recent column in Asian Age? Any guesses?
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This appeared in CREST...

Mine is bigger than yours!

A Cindy Crawford look alike in a clinging, hot red gown bent low to offer India’s Cigar King, Chetan Seth, a limited edition Romeo y Julieta that was about to be launched amidst much excitement and fanfare. A Whitney Houston clone was belting out ‘I will always love you,’’ her voice tremulous and tender. The venue was a spectacularly decorated marquee at the gigantic Pabexpo Centre in Havana where over five hundred cigar aficionados from across the world had gathered for the closing ceremony of the XIV Habanos Festival in Cuba. It is with some irony that non-smokers ( me!), at the glamourous venue, noted that the proceeds from the famous Humidor Auction later in the night, would benefit the Cuban Public Health System( oh, one of the gorgeous, fully loaded humidors went for a staggering 750,000 euros). But then again, nothing is as it appears in Cuba ( pronounced ‘Koo-ba’). At a dinner to commemorate the 520th Anniversary of the discovery of tobacco in Cuba by the Europeans, the cloud of smoke hanging just under the beautiful chandeliers was thick enough for a knife to cut through it.But was anybody complaining?Nope. They were too busy puffing on their not-so-guilty pleasures to bother about their own or anybody else’s lungs.
Over the years, the annual Habanos Festival in Havana has acquired a cult status. Cigar smokers cross seven seas to make it for the week long celebrations that include elegant parties at top restaurants, all-night Mojitos at the Verandah Bar of the historic Hotel Nacional, dancing to Cuban jazz bands at any of the late, late clubs, or merely hanging out at Hemingway’s favourite bar. Acquiring multiple boxes of hand rolled ( forget all that nonsense about nubile ladies rolling cigars on naked thighs) , limited edition ‘beedis’ is an attractive bonus.But the icing on the cake is the rare opportunity to enjoy new products that are launched at the Festival, much before the rest of the world gets to sample them. Habanos has 27 top brands in the market ( such as Bolivar,Punch, Trinidad,Diplomaticos). It is important to note that so far at least the Habanos are the only cigars that have been totally handmade for over 200 years. And that as early as in the 18th century, Cuban tobacco was recognized as the best in the world.Some cigar stalwarts stick to classics, like Cohiba’s Linea 1492, which was launched in 1992, to mark the arrival of Christopher Columbus to the island. While other more adventurous types are spoilt for choice at the numero uno cigar destination. Take Montecristo, which is one of the most acclaimed Habanos brands.In 2010, it decided to expand its portfolio with the launch of the new Linea Cohiba Biheke in three new vitolas ( sizes). These went on to become instant best sellers, even though they were shockingly pricey. Try talking price to any one of the sharp international distributors who gather at the Festival to negotiate deals! At the moment, it is the Russians and Chinese who are being actively courted given the potential and size of the two. But with Chetan Seth (along with his lovely daughter Ameeta Seth), projecting a 30% annual growth in India for what the trade calls ‘sticks’, it will be interesting to see how it moves in the next few years. As of now, ‘Cingari’ Chetan’s company, which he set up in 1996, sells a respectable number of top cigars , catering mainly to connoisseurs who also rely on Seth’s expertise to guide them. Buying the right cigar is a pretty complicated affair, as any genuine cigar lover will tell you. Apart from the four senses (sight, smell, touch and taste) involved in the appreciation of the cigar, it is also a matter of the right mood, the right company and the right setting. Cigars are complex, sensitive creatures. Amateurs or experimental smokers are advised to proceed cautiously and stick to lighter-flavoured cigars before daring to experiment with the Big Boys. It is considered awfully rude to abandon a good cigar before getting to ‘understand’ its true character. Similarly, cigar lovers shudder and cringe if ever they spot someone stubbing out or crushing an unfinished cigar - “The right thing to do is to let it die with dignity,” advises a regular, who also points out that the ash from a cigar should never be tipped but allowed to fall gracefully. Your best bet is to stay out of a glowing cigar’s way if you are a non-smoking woman wearing a wonderful frock.
Cigar smoking is a growing cult , especially with global thirty somethings who see it as an essential lifestyle accessory that signals their arrival on the international scene of slouchy tycoons and sultry sirens stylishly drawing on their Piramides Extra ( launched by Cohiba, the cigar world’s most prestigious brand, at this Festival), sipping a Single Malt or a Cuban Rum aged for many years in oak barrels, and nibbling on Iberico ham canapes.Since cigars are increasingly recognized as the new status symbol, it’s important to get the basics right. Puffing away 5,000 bucks in one go, needs a certain level of derring-do, even for India’s new elite. Lighting up a Habanos is seen as a celebration, and most cigar lovers make an occasion of it. Which is precisely why the Festival in Cuba has acquired such a special status making it almost mandatory for cigar lovers to make the long trip to Havana during the last week of February. Let’s just call it a pilgrimage of sorts, where devotees flock to worship at a distinctly phallic altar created from dried and cured leaves that generate clouds of highly aromatic smoke when lit. Heaven, insist fans, would be incomplete without a magnificent humidor filled with the best Habanas. And yes, size does matter – thicker is better than longer, when it comes to cigars, that is! Let’s puff to that.

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Overwhelmed by Oman....

I was going back after a decade to Muscat. As always, with an open mind. It was to attend the 7TH Muscat International Film Festival, put together by former desi journalists who are based in Oman now. The roll call of names mentioned was impressive. Susan Sarandon was due to fly in the same day as I had to return to Mumbai.But Forest Whitaker was there.So was Darren Aronofsky. Omar Sharif didn't make it because of poor health. And Roger Moore also had a genuine problem. But with the humble and very likeable Billy Boyd ("Lord of the Rings'), and a roster of stars from India ( Nandita Das, Victor Banerjee, Sharmila Tagore, Mohanlal) and the Middle East, I am not sure whether Saif and Kareena's last minute no-show to attend the red carpet premiere of 'Agent Vinod' was a matter of great significance to anybody but the organisers who were exceedingly miffed and refused to accept 'security issues' as a legit excuse. However, the show must go on and did. With great performances by Sivamani. Dhanush was saved for the finale. And I thought to myself, this was a pretty terrific effort and the line up of international stars wasn't half bad, given the location.
As for me, staying at the legendary Al-Bustan Palace Hotel ( run by the Ritz-Carlton ) was a memorable experience. And for my daughter, it was the menacing, black, demonic mountains which surround Muscat that enchanted and scared her simultaneously. She found them 'demonic' and 'angry'. But the blue-green, calm sea made up for the sinister looking ranges. And so did dozens of friendly dolphins frolicking in the warm waters early one morning. As all of us on the dolphin watch cooed and swooned at the uplifting sight, it was Nandita Das' son, all of 19 months and very sleepy at that hour, who got the last word. "Pheeeeesh!" exclaimed the tot ecstatically.
I shall post images in a day or so. Yes, including those of the 'angry' mountains.
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I missed the biggest bash of recent times - Mukesh and Nita Ambani's glittering party for Sachin Tendulkar. Who in turn missed Rahul Dravid's felicitation event. Between The Master Blaster and The Wall, cricket fans got their fix. Let's see if the IPL manages to attract more interest this season than it did in the previous two.
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This appeared in Bombay Times yesterday....


“ Lock up your wives and daughters….”

This is just so spooky! Nearly forty years after it was written, a headline has popped back into my consciousness to haunt me. I plead guilty. Mahendra Sandhu is back in the news, thanks to ‘Agent Vinod’ and the rather lop sided, left handed tribute paid to the former actor ( Sandhu sensibly moved on decades ago and got himself a proper day job). But when he first burst into Bollywood, in 1973, he was hailed as the next big thing.The desi Bond, if you please. Primarily by ‘Stardust’ the film magazine I was the editor of at the time. Excited by the prospect of predicting mega stardom for a guy who seemed to have it all, we went flat out to anoint Sandhu as the next superstar. He had the right credentials – rugged Panju good looks, an FTII background and enough hair on his brawny chest ( shirt permanently unbuttoned) to make the cut. We set up an elaborate shoot with Sandhu which involved a heavy duty bike, jaunty shades, a forest of chest hair and lots of attitude. The pictures looked great even without photo shop ( that nasty little magic trick which was still to be invented). And I was the one who went ahead brashly with a headline that has come back to mock me – “Lock up your wives and daughters, Mahendra Sandhu has hit the town.” The lukewarm reaction to our rah- rah story was the writing on the wall. My guess is that Sandhu read it before anyone else . After several similar duds (17 films in 19 years), he changed tracks and going by a recent interview, he sounds like a happy man running, and minding, his own business. Good for Sandhu. A lesser person would have collapsed and gone into a tailspin of depression, frustration and that awful cycle of questioning failure. Here was a guy who had been crowned king a bit too prematurely, a bit too hastily. It was a rash decision, and it backfired.
It was also a lesson well learned - about hype and its nasty repercussions. This, in an era when there were no image consultants, managers and publicists. It was a virtual free for all, with the in-built risk of a free fall if the expectations created were not met. Why didn’t Sandhu’s career take off? Who knows? There were worse actors hacking it at the time, and certainly less good looking chaps who’d made it ( some of them are still around featuring in meaty character roles and enjoying an autumn of glory). Sandhu disappeared without a trace. Till ‘Agent Vinod’ happened. Perhaps film makers will flock to Sandhu yet again and entice him back into the industry with roles that are more appropriate than the one which bombed ( Sandhu was the original ‘Agent Vinod’). It will will be interesting to see if that does indeed happen. One thing I do know, if Sandhu accepts the offer, I won’t be the one writing headlines hailing the arrival of a dangerously attractive middle aged actor on the prowl. Once, as they say , is enough. I am still blushing at the memory!
P.S. Could ‘Agent Vinod’ be a jinxed title? Is that the official excuse????

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The world is coming to Cuba....

Couldn't resist adding some more images to go with the column on Cuba that appears in Asian Age today.
I guess no explanations are needed. The pictures speak for themselves. In case you are wondering who that cutie is, I found him on a side street and he had great attitude. As for the cops, trust me they weren't delighted posing with roses on duty. But I convinced them they looked adorable.... which they do!
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I'm off to Muscat this evening. More from there when I get back next week....



The world is coming to Cuba….!

“ I live in Cuba. I’ll die in Cuba.I don’t know what freedom means…” Alexander, the burly tourist guide in Old Havana, sounded really angry as he sipped a Mojito( a delicious cocktail that was born in Cuba along with the Pina Colada, Cuba Libre and Daiquiri) inside one of Hemingway’s favourite bars near the port. The only time he had been ‘allowed’ to leave the country was during his military service (compulsory). As a crack Marine officer, he was privileged enough to visit a few countries in South America. And now, like many of his disgruntled countrymen, he is waiting for Fidel Castro to die. Sounds terrible. But it’s true. Though Cubans aren’t sure what will happen to them after Fidel joins the maker, they are willing to take their chances. For a country of just 12 million, which relies heavily on tourism to fuel its economy, Cuba is stuck in a scary time warp. It appears wretchedly backward to outsiders, and people like Alexander, who have managed to get out and see what’s happening in the rest of the world, are getting increasingly impatient. But even an angry Alexander concedes not everything is awful about Cuba, and points to high literacy levels ( education is free) and excellent health care ( free, as well). Equally, teenage prostitution is rampant and a national concern. He hopes his three young children will grow up in a better, more prosperous Cuba.There are thousands of vulture-adventurers across the world waiting breathlessly for Cuba to open up. While there have no official sightings of the ailing and frail 86 year old Castro in recent times, his eyes and ears are everywhere. Old fashioned spying is still big business in Cuba, and those who want to look at investment opportunities in the future, are aware they are being followed and their conversations recorded by spooks who look and behave like small time villains from vintage Hollywood spy thrillers. The Cold War is still on in Cuba. And that’s the way the State prefers it.
Rumours and stories about Castro do the rounds all the time. Castro ‘scoops’ ( “He knew about the plot to kill John F. Kennedy”) make international headlines even today. Surprisingly, I didn’t spot a single statue of the leader anywhere, though there is one of Mahatma Gandhi in the centre a beautiful park surrounded by ancient Banyan trees. The average Cuban is well aware of Castro’s close links to India. As an official pointed out, “ Fidel had embraced Indira Gandhi at an international event and referred to her as his sister in the presence of world leaders.” Mother Teresa has her statue near the quay and is a revered figure in the largely Catholic country. But there are very few Indians in Cuba, which is odd, given that it is a pretty laid back life one can enjoy. Blessed with a salubrious climate, Cuba is an attractive destination with pristine,picturesque beaches and good hotels in Havana. Then there’s the Cuban Rum, of course. And the world’s best cigars. It is during the last week of February that Havana comes alive with the Habanos Festival (in its 14th year ), during which cigar aficionados and distributors from across the world descend on Havana for seven days and nights of celebration. If there’s one thing Cuba is justifiably proud of, it’s the reputation of its hand rolled cigars ( 200 years of tradition), which dominate the international market and are the ultimate status symbols for cigar lovers everywhere. Super brands like Cohiba, Romeo y Julieta , Montecristo launch new products at this prestigious trade fair that attracts global celebrities, some of whom participate in the nail biting humidor auction on the final day of the festival.Enthusiasts from faraway China are the new entrants on the block. The Russians beat them by a few years.
“Are there rich people in Cuba?” someone asked rather ingenuously. Yes, there are rich people in Cuba. But one doesn’t see them except at high profile occasions like the Habanos Festival, when they emerge from their sprawling villas in the tony Miramar district, to hobnob with jet setters who have flown for over twenty hours ( Hong Kong, Australia, New Zealand) to party with like minded cigar fanatics willing to puff away 5000 rupees per cigar, without blinking. At the magnificent Hotel Nacional ( built in 1950), one feels like a mysterious character out of a period film.At the sprawling Verandah Bar , which is open 24x7, there are wheeler dealers and smooth operators from all over, dressed in mandatory linen suits and rakish Panama hats, cutting sharp deals with Cuban babus. Opportunities galore are attracting speculators and land sharks who are anticipating a gold rush once Fidel hands over power or passes away, whichever is sooner. Already, real estate developers are eyeing prime properties and figuring out ways to invest in Cuba, smartly bypassing the present, crippling bureaucratic paper work, much like India’s. We have been a bit too lethargic and sleepy to bother with Cuba. Which is a pity, given the historic ties we share. While America is still a bad word , CNN and Walt Disney channels are available in five star hotels, but strictly no McDonald’s so far. In fact, such is the paranoia about all things American, that any credit card transaction routed through the U.S. is refused!And , of course, you cannot get greenbacks exchanged for local currency anywhere.“All this will change,” assures a long time resident, a colourful Indian , who has been living in Cuba for 17 years. For one, the dilapidated , brightly painted cars from the ‘50’s which have been converted into taxis, may be replaced by modern machines like the few sturdy Mercs which drive well heeled tourists around. Already, there is enormous interest from German nostalgia freaks determined to acquire the funky, finned Impalas and other vintage beauties from another era.
This is the very era that charms those who keep coming back to Cuba.The Japanese are recent converts. But it is the Chinese who will eventually dominate Cuba. And it won’t be just the cigars they are after!

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Youngistan's newest hero:Virat Kohli

As you can tell, I am still in Havana mode. It's really hard to switch off. Which is the reason why Papa Hemingway hung out here as much as he did.
The pics are a mixed bunch. I made friends with the resident peacock who'd stroll through the beachside restaurant and demand banana chips with an aggressive call.
Of course, you know that's Ernest himself, cast in bronze and surveying the scene at his favourite restaurant (El Floradita). And at his favourite bar (Dos Hermanos)where locals claim the Mojito was invented (note: another Che cap! I am a total groupie!)And there's one more Che moment, this time with the 'original' Che cap.And there's the lovely nail art picture of one of the ladies rolling Cohibas.
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This appeared in Bombay Times yesterday....


Youngistan ka new hero :Virat Kohli
It is absolutely extraordinary to see the birth of a new superstar right in front of ones eyes, as it were! Everything about Virat Kohli suggests ‘He is the one’. He has success written all over him. Already, Virat is being talked about as the next captain of the Indian cricket team. Yes, even after Dhoni managed to clinch the dramatic victory over Pakistan in Mirpur on Sunday. All this, while the nation was still on a collective high , reveling in Sachin Tendulkar’s hundredth century in international cricket. For Virat to still steal the show suggests a few things. First, cricket fans are ready to move on. Dhoni is Dhoni. But, hey, Virat is hot! On and off the field. That’s how the game itself has evolved over time. Today, it is not about past records and glorious innings. It is about the here and now. How well you perform… present tense.Not how brilliantly you performed… past tense. With memory spans getting as short as attention spans, cricket lovers are constantly looking for the next big thing. Fans display their impatience and boredom very quickly. There is less sentimentality and more expectation even from die hards who can rattle off scores and records of their favourites effortlessly. But like in every other field, the demand is for fresh blood, for newness, for the dashing outsider, who walks in and wipes the floor with the stalwarts still swaggering around. Bollywood is on a similar ‘khoj’ as well. It’s just that in Bollywood, the stakes are a bit too high to invest millions on a newbie. In that sense, cricket works differently. There is no one ‘producer’ who is taking that big risk by banking on a dark horse. If a film tanks at the box office, it tanks. It cannot be reshot and released again, with all the errors fixed. Cricket gives the boys countless chances to prove themselves. In a crowded, competitive field, it is easy enough to spot a dependable, competent player. There are several of those. But for a cricketer to make it to superstardom, some other qualities are essential. A certain derring- do. Guts. Style. Confidence. Bravado. When Virat is on the field, it’s hard to look at anybody else. He is a crowd puller, who also happens to play bloody good cricket. Strange, how quickly India is ready to kiss Dhoni goodbye as a captain. We can be so horribly fickle! Even cruel. But then again, not everybody on that field is a Tendulkar. India has worshipped the man for twenty-three years. That is one hell of an impressive innings he has played. The country , in turn, waited patiently, even indulgently, for Sachin to achieve his cherished milestone. Today’s restless teenager is not as accommodating.This fan pays for instant thrills and wants to watch fresh players who bring new energy to the game.The very same cricket lover did not wait for even two years after Dhoni triumphantly brought the World Cup home,before looking over his shoulder . Ingratitude? Not really. If the game itself has changed, it is only because the fans have driven the change. Virat has brought the missing oomph back into the team. India is ready for him. Is Virat Kohli ready to lead Team India?

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Kantabai's version of the Union Budget!

Aaaaah - holiday pics! Someone did ask for them, right? RIGHT?
Well, here they are anyway, and lots more where these have come from... you are warned!
I often get the order wrong, but here goes from top to bottom: C'est moi at the Cohiba factory pretending to smoke a cigar... effect ke vaastey!
That's the Bellucci ( Belushi?) bloke, people were going ga-ga over. Wonder why?
And one more of the magnificent Hotel Nacional...
Augustus Eglesias... heard of him? Powerful singer. Cuba's A.R.Rahman
My absolute hero - a childhood hear throb. Che remains the world's most inspiring rebel. A true warrior who famously said, "My dreams know no limits..."
The main square in Havana..
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This appeared in Sunday Times today.....

Budget-wudget : “Where has all my money gone….?”

Kantabai was in an impatient mood as she scrubbed and cleaned her memsaab’s Italian marble floors while the Union Budget was being discussed on ET NOW, the saab’s favourite business channel.Kantabai was not impressed. First, she wanted to know why there were such few women on any of the experts’ panel on tv shows. After all, rising prices affected women first. Plus,she had a few basic questions to ask Pranabda and all those mighty financial wizards decoding the subtext of the Budget for the benefit of dumbstruck television viewers. None of this was making the slightest sense to her, but Kantabai was candid enough to admit it. Her saab was jotting down notes and scribbling numbers on a thick writing pad as if he understood everything. Her memsaab was busy fixing hair and nail appointments at the friendly neighbourhood spa and complaining about additional taxes on luxury goods. Kantabai was cross, really ,really cross. She’d heard her railway pass would cost more when she renewed it next month. And she really didn’t care which minister lost his job for annoying some agitated Didi screaming hysterically in Kolkata and asking for his resignation. Kantabai’s drunkard of a husband had told her to cut back on virtually everything, food included. He’d muttered something about PPF interest rates being slashed, which she took as yet another way of telling her about the tough ( tougher!) times ahead for the family. What was a ‘maamuli aadmi’ supposed to do? Each year it was the same kahani. Kantabai was sick of it. The answer to her fundamental question every year : ‘Will prices ever come down ?’ remained the same : NO! If that was the case, what was the point in wasting everybody’s time? Kantabai was not interested in why prices never came down. All she wanted was an assurance from the sarkar that her children’s life would be qualitatively better than her own. She didn’t want her daughter to scrub floors and clean toilets. She didn’t want her son to become an underpaid hamaal. She didn’t want to live for the rest of her life in a filthy shanty town without water ,electricity or toilets. But was anybody listening?
Kantabai kept hearing stories about what a great future was in store for every Indian provided people worked hard ( ‘discipline’ was the new magic word) and sincerely. She was told if she managed to save some money from her meager salary, she’d be able to educate her children. But what was left to save after toiling in three homes from 6 a.m to 8 p.m? Phir bhi, aapun ke mantri log are making bada bada bhashans and boasting that life will improve. From what Kantabai could tell, life had definitely improved, maybe not for her, but for the saablog in whose homes she slaved. From one car, they now possessed three-three cars ( babalog had grown up and needed their own, na?). Diesel or petrol, she wasn’t sure. Made zero difference.Kantabai’s parivar didn’t possess even a cycle. Each room in her saab’s house had a big tv, which was good because Kantabai could now watch her favourite serial in the afternoon while ironing heaps of clothes. The saablog also ate out three times a week. So, less bartans in the kitchen sink for her to scour, as compared to five years ago. Memsaab also discarded good, hardly worn sarees, jeans, even nighties. In the past, Kantabai would be given soiled, torn clothes from time to time. Saab’s old shirt-pants were enough for her husband. And memsaab had started tipping regularly for extra work during her kitty parties. Kantabai got far many more days off, now that the saablog traveled to their farm house on the weekend and took two or three foreign holidays a year. Sometimes they brought back imported presents for Kantabai which she carefully stored for her daughter, making sure not to remove the nice wrappers.Even the leftovers she was allowed to take home at night, were better, tastier these days, especially Chinese dishes which her children had started to love. Last Diwali, her memsaab had given her a cell phone! Memsaab had said it was just a present, but Kantabai knew it was to keep calling her at home on her rare off days to issue instructions. And yes, Kantabai had to pay her own telephone bills.
As Kantabai kept listening to Pranabda droning on and on, she laughed out loud. So many maha plans for the nation. Such fantastic promises. Her saab was clapping sometimes and frowning at other times. Talking about sensex-bensex or just sex. She heard him talking on the phone and saying it was a ‘mixed budget’. He said that every year. Memsaab was complaining about having to pay more for powder-lipstick. The Babalog were indifferent, planning the next weekend party, ordering daaru and other things from the regular supplier. Kantabai went back to work with thoughts of getting back to her community tap on time before it ran dry. Like this year’s Budget, Kantabai’s life was also ‘mixed’. But there was always next year…

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Aman R.Ali's interview in Newsline..

Couldn't resist another Che shot. This was taken just outside Naples , with a darling ice cream vendor. Nothing can beat Italian gelati. Nothing!
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Pakistanis treated me well. Really well.... I'd like to reciprocate someday soon. But sorry, their judicial team wasted everybody's time in Mumbai. And nobody was amused. Send better people next time. Not this bunch of cynical, ill-informed chaps.

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Interview: Shobhaa Dé
By Amna R. Ali






The collective triumphs and successes of the alluring Shobhaa Dé shout a life well-lived. Model, writer, editor, columnist and life guru she has gathered innumerable accolades along the way. Now, at 64, she is still a show-stopper at fashion shows and dons the necessary accoutrements of high fashion with natural ease. Blessed with compelling charm she is a persuasive and expressive narrator of stories, especially her own. On a recent trip to Pakistan, she spoke candidly to Newsline about things that matter to her the most.
Successful author, columnist, opinion-maker, often you’re branded a socialite. Do you care about image and labels?
Actually, I’m pretty on top of my life. Labels are what lazy people create and stick on other people. I’ve always carved my own path and walked on it, had fun and done what I wanted to do, pretty much on my own terms, so it no longer bothers me. It’s just that sometimes I wish some of the journos would do their homework a little more.
Your milieu is urban India, your hometown is Mumbai. You say you’re a liberal Mumbai girl. How would you describe cosmopolitan broadmindedness in one sentence?
To be inclusive and accepting of differences, to me, that is really a cosmopolitan mind that respects other opinions, is comfortable with dissent, is challenging stereotypes, and, in a word, it would be an openness – an openness to life itself and a lack of narrow-minded judgemental attitudes that are polarising so many parts of the world.
You’ve always been provocative and daring, but you struck a nerve with traditionalists. What is the perfect balance between traditional culture and modern values?
I would say that the balance comes if you adopt the best disciplines from other cultures, be it western or eastern, or our own subcontinental culture. It’s like being at a gourmet meal and being in a position to get the choicest entrée that you desire, or your palette desires. One should try and combine the best choices in one’s own life without losing out on one’s essential self and the core of who you are, your identity. I’ve lived my life, but my identity was one thing that there was never any self doubt about, and I think that has really helped me to maintain a sense of equilibrium.
I struck a balance between the modern and traditional – that was a very conscious decision. Rebelling against something for the sake of rebellion is a part of growing up; I’m sure I must have done some really stupid things as a teenager, but I never lost sight of the bigger picture even then. It was never about bucking the system to an extent that it would be dangerous to myself or would compromise my family.
In the past decade or so, one has seen a globalised India and an economic boom that has fuelled massive social change in a young India. What do you think has been lost along the way?
Perspective. In this mad scramble to go global and to aspire to all the symbols of wealth and consumerism, we have lost perspective. To not allow oneself to be consumed by materialism is, I think, the biggest challenge for this generation. They are in such a tearing hurry but they don’t know where they are actually headed; they want more and more and more.
Career women in media or in finance are unable to find that wonderful balance where they can also stop and smell the flowers, instead of just hurtling from one goal post to the next.
In your books you speak of issues which are often considered very personal: Spouses, the truth about marriage, how to deal with menopause. You advise all age-groups on how to live and love. What is your fount of knowledge?
What a tough question you are asking me. I don’t know, it can’t really be explained. I believe almost all of us, especially women, are extraordinarily intuitive and they live on a different plane. I know I may sound batty saying it, but they do. Because of the requirements of our society, where women don’t always have a level playing field, we have devices which help us to cope with crisis and with different situations which cannot be explained logically. So where does my knowledge come from? If I get an answer or if I see something intuitively, I cannot in very logical, scientific, precise terms say where I got it from, or whether I picked it up from such and such library. It is there, I cannot explain it. It cannot be deconstructed.
Many parallels have been drawn between the two glam girls of the literary world, Shobhaa De and Jackie Collins, who both base their novels on the lifestyles of the super-rich and famous. Please comment.
I cannot tell you how sick I am of this glam stamp. I refuse to be apologetic and explain my appearance. The glam girl thing is something that has always been levelled against me. This is how I have always looked; had I looked differently or had my background been different, it would be another story. I refuse to conform to the khaddi-wearing journalist type stereotype and I refuse to be anything other than who I am. Jackie Collins was a very long time ago. This question is irrelevant now, a lot has happened since then. Years ago, a Time magazine writer decided to stereotype me as the glamorous writer from India. Well, it’s the world I know, I cannot suddenly write about rural realities. Do the rich not deserve to be chronicled, are their lives that unimportant? This is a world that I completely understand so I can write about it better than most other people who may not be a part of it.
Showbiz is about vicarious thrills, you say, especially via commercial, mainstream and celebrated cinema. What do you have to say about the Stardust-isation of the media?
Today if I were tell you that ‘Brand Bollywood’ is the biggest brand out of India, – it wouldn’t be untrue. It has happened, whether we like it or not. It’s the power of cinema but it’s also the power of marketing. I’ve seen Bollywood change and get corporatised; movie stars have become very sure of their own positioning in the market, and are going about it the way Hollywood stars have gone about it for the past twenty years – they have agents and business managers who leverage their brands. This is all new, just see how the press devours Bollywood – even a scrap of it – you throw them a morsel and they come running. It could be anything, it could be the World Economic Forum even; unless there is a Bollywood element, you don’t get the press.
The super fantastic success and the obsessive interest in Bollywood has led to the Stardust-isation of the media. It’s easiest to put a picture of Shahrukh Khan on the front page – even a mainstream paper like the Times of India will do this. All in the hope that, perhaps, the reader may read the serious stuff.
What is the state of Bollywood today? Is it mediocre?
Not at all. Bolllywood has some extremely smart people, they’re doing business in the millions and producing technically world class films. I hope, personally, that Bollywood never changes, and nor the Bollywood formula of boy meets girl, which is essentially based on fantasy and wish-fulfillment and aspirations.
Today they turn it on its head and present it differently but at the core it’s the same story. Parallel, experimental, smaller, indie films are breaking a lot of rules, speaking in a completely new language and finding their own audience – that’s thanks to the multiplex. Now we see mature audiences who can pick and choose; if they don’t want to watch a Dabangg they don’t have to. They can watch Bol.
Can you comment on hypocrisy in Indian society, a place where in cinema the pelvic thrust is acceptable while an innocent lip-to-lip is not?
The lip-to-lip has now become kosher, you can show it and they do. But a lot of the movie stars themselves don’t mind the pelvic thrust, they do mind kissing their co-stars. I don’t know whether this is because kissing is seen as essentially part of western culture. The pelvic thrust is derived from folk traditions and folk dances that have always been very raunchy. The lyrics have a lot of double entendre, a play on words, so it doesn’t somehow shock us as much as it has been part of a film tradition, even regional cinema tradition, for the longest time. Even Katrina Kaif’s new number Chikni Chameli is based on a Marathi folk song about a chicken that ran away. It’s a conscious decision on her part to change her image and if she does a very successful item song like that, chances are she’ll earn crores of rupees from it because she’ll be invited to perform at live shows.

I don’t see that as hypocrisy, no.
Are you one of those people who blame Pakistan whenever an act of terrorism takes place in India?
No, I think it’s lazy reporting which is reckless and dangerous. Unless it’s been established beyond any doubt where they came from, as in the case of the 26/11 bombings. Even in Pakistan, I would not hesitate to say this. But I certainly wouldn’t say that all our troubles and every terror attack in India is because of Pakistan.
What’s the best way, in your opinion, to give peace a chance?
Dialogue and more dialogue. Much more can be achieved through dialogue, cultural exchanges and re-establishing a healthy trade relationship, than finger-pointing and playing the blame game, which is counter-productive. Unfortunately politicians manipulate public opinion and presume to speak for a whole nation.
How would you describe your evolution from Socialite Evenings to Shobhaa at Sixty?
A writer’s mind is not static, there are bound to be changes in what one is writing. Socialite Evenings was my first book and I still love and adore it. It was so from the heart, it’s from the gut, and so unselfconscious with all its raw edges, but I couldn’t have remained stuck in that, and I couldn’t have remained stuck as the editor of Stardust, that was 40 years ago, even though people still associate me with it. I still continue to model a lot, believe it or not, at my age it’s very flattering. I’ve been asked to be a show-stopper at fashion shows and if it’s a charity-linked event, I’ve done it. I don’t wish to to remain at point A, my writing is a reflection of all that I have lived, and experienced and enjoyed. The change is evident in every book. It would be kind of boring to write the same old book a hundred times over.
You’ve been a successful daughter, wife, mother, sister, friend, citizen – do you have any regrets?
None at all. Sometimes I joke and say I’m like Dev Anand, I’m a person who lives completely and totally in the present. One has no control over the future, the past is over, and the only thing that one can live is ‘the now.’ And you try and live it the best way you can. I don’t see any point in regret. If there is something that you can undo or a hurt you’ve caused then, yes, by all means fix it. But I have no time to expend on negative energy. I would rather use that energy for something else, something that’s positive and now, and maybe for tomorrow.

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