The Goyard Story

That's Guillaume, a charming Frenchman who helped my daughter choose her Goyard, with a great deal of patience and understanding. It really is an experience, or else I wouldn't be writing about it. Goyard beat Louis Vuitton by one year, when it opened the store in 1853. Today, its custom made trunks are ordered by the likes of Karl Lagerfeld, who is one of Goyard's biggest customers. But it needed the vulgarity of a Paris Hilton, to get the right royal snub from Goyard when she had the temerity to ask for a discount, because she is Paris Hilton!! She was politely informed that Goyard does not offer discounts to anyone, not even Karl, who, in any case, never asks, even though his bills run into a million euros annually. Yes, just on Goyard trunks! While we were at the store, we watched Chinese and Japanese customers walking off with top of the line bags, without batting an eyelid while settling the bill. And the trunk Guillaume is posing with belonged to none other than Coco Chanel herself ( it has madmoiselle's initials inscribed). No wonder Guillaume's eyes are sparkling!

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This appeared on Mother's Day in Bombay Times....

Let’s put our weight behind Ash….

Any woman who has gone through pregnancy and become a mother, will understand this perfectly: Having a baby is a life transforming experience that beats all other experiences put together. Unfortunately, it is also a shape-transforming experience. That is how nature intended it. When a woman decides to have a baby, she accepts the entire package – additional kilos included. Some women, like Victoria Beckham pop out their beautiful babies without the slightest alteration to their sleek silhouettes – lucky them. Others, take time and allow their bodies to shrink at a slower pace… without obsessing over the extra weight. They make the baby their top priority, nurse the infant, enjoy that marvelous, tender time together, without giving a damn about a double chin, or a few tyres around the waist. Those melt away later, once the new mother resumes her normal routine and starts a simple regimen to keep the newly acquired fat deposits at bay. It is generally a highly narcissistic new mum who chooses to make her own weight a priority above everything else – the baby’s well being included. Clearly, Aishwarya Rai is not that woman. And can we please get off her back and let her enjoy her little one without giving her grief each time she steps out of her home? Frankly, the spiteful and hostile comments to Aishwarya’s post-baby appearance have been so exaggerated one wonders why. Is it because our own idyll of perennial perfection and startling beauty has been somehow shattered? After all, Aishwarya is consistently referred to as ‘the most beautiful woman in the world’. There have been enough green-with-envy rivals who have spent sleepless nights trying to topple her from that throne. Ash was the lucky actress who had it all… including a fairytale marriage to a really sweet guy. Then came the baby news. All this was a bit too much for some to handle. Competitors had waited long years to find that chink in her Ash’s armour… something they could swoop down on. And they found it in – of all places – her weight!

It is like a vicious , orchestrated campaign against a woman who generates a huge amount of jealousy just for looking the way she does. It gives plain looking ladies a vicarious thrill to see Ash in a less than flattering light right now. Her more enlightened sponsors are standing by her, though, insists her spokesperson. And they respect her right to enjoy motherhood minus pressure to fit into a single digit size gown. There’s more to life than that red carpet appearance… yes, even at Cannes. Ash realizes as much.New mothers in urban society have it really hard these days. It is such a pity. We are being brainwashed into feverishly ‘getting into shape’, even before the baby is weaned. There are young mothers who refuse to breast feed their kids for fear of losing their curves and ‘sagging’! There are others who go so far as to say they don’t want to ‘spoil’ their figures by having a baby in the first place. The film industry imposes its own cruel diktats , making demands on mothers in the business to look like svelte and sexy ‘yummy mummies’ overnight… or else! Women are idiotically punishing themselves instead of enjoying motherhood for what it is – a time to make the most of those magical months when an innocent, entirely dependent new life thrives on and flowers with the mother’s unconditional love,attention and care.Ash has chosen to invest in her daughter, rather than hit the gym neurotically or starve herself to fit into those old jeans. It’s time to butt out of her life and leave her alone.Ash has her priorities in place - her mommie- time with the baby could well be the best decision of her life.Besides, the glow of motherhood is the best cosmetic in the world…. Because mother and baby are both ‘worth it’.

Happy Mother’s Day!

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When Didi lost it!

As promised, a few pics from Taiwan: That's the 'tea egg' - one of 6,000 sold by the 80 year-old-lady on the jetty. Pretty delicious even if it does look totally unappetising! It was raining when I went for a boat ride on the famous Sun Moon Lake, but it was still worth getting drenched for. And yes, I'm wearing Masaba Gupta's clever Sacred Bull jacket. The lovely Chinese lady with me is Min - accomplished, successful and hugely intelligent!

While on food, I checked out Bandra's latest eatery - the Indigo Deli. Glad to report Rahul Akerkar has done it again! The food was just outstanding, especially the thin crust, wood fired pizza. And here's more on food - I had lunch at the Bombay Gym after ages. Chef Peter produced a superb chicken soup( for my soul) and stew ( for my stomach). I watched energetic girls playing a pretty rough game of football on the grounds - nicccce! Then it was time to savour a Malayalee speciality from Hotel Deluxe at Fort. It is a coconut pancake , steamed in banana leaves and filled with jaggery, poha and Kerala plaintains! Our chauffeur Subramaniam introduced me to it - God bless him!

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This appeared in The Week. Since then, Didi has done what Didi does best - thrown tantrums, walked out of a television interview because she didn't like the 'Maoists' in the studio ( students who asked Mamata a few straight questions). She also went all out to defend SRK ( her brand ambassador) the day he was banned ( joke!) from Wankhede. India holds its collective breath for the next Didi outburst!

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When Didi met Hillary….

Women negotiate and interpret power very differently from men.That’s a given. When two powerful women meet, it’s all about decoding the complex body language. And when Mamata Banerjee met Hillary Clinton, the signals were totally confusing ! For one, Asian women use their bodies with more economy.It is considered bad form to send out an overtly aggressive message, or even an oblique one. Striding briskly into a business meeting , even if you happen to be the female CEO of the company, is seen as a turn-off. Women are meant to wear power very lightly on the sleeves of their modest cholis. Even if Mamata has made a career out of defying the stereotype, she has not taken liberties with this particular unwritten code of conduct. She yells, screams and spits fire with the best of them. She walks up to the podium as if she means to talk tough… and she generally does. Despite that, Mamata still projects a certain Eastern modesty, as she tugs the pallu of her trademark saree closely around her shoulders. Perhaps it’s the saree,that discourages taking long purposeful strides.It’s the same with the Japanese Kimono ( tiny, baby steps only, ladies!). And the graceful but restricting Burmese sarong worn by Aung San Suu Kyi next door. Our Begums from Bangladesh, head modestly covered, project exaggerated femininity, while Benazir Bhutto, when she was alive, may have cast herself in the more Westernised, perfectly manicured and coiffed mould, but it was nonetheless conservative. Why even Chandrika Ranatunga from the emerald isle, was rarely seen in anything but the Sri Lankan saree, which automatically softened her mannish persona.

Hillary Clinton has never suffered from such hang ups. For the longest time, she has sported no- nonsense, unflattering pant suits, worn sensible shoes, and minimal make up. She has displayed vanity only when it comes to her dark hair, which she scrupulously bleaches to better conform to the American blond fantasy. These days, Hillary has been letting her hair down a bit – thank the Lord, as was joked about by the President Obama himself when he said his Secretary of State had been ‘drunk texting’ him . Or perhaps, that was Obama’s way of deflecting attention from a hot memoir written by a former girlfriend that talks about his sarongs, cigarettes,body smells, and sexual energy. But when Hillary came a-calling to West Bengal, it was pretty apparent who was calling the shots. Having met and interacted a little with the firebrand Mamata, I’m sure it took a lot for her to play second fiddle. But then again, Hillary’s personality is strong enough to intimidate anybody, Bill Clinton included. That Hillary chose to meet Mamata over any other Chief Minister, is significant enough.And it is no accident that Mamata made it to the TIME magazine list of the world’s Most Powerful individuals. There is a design in everything and anything the Americans do. If they have decided to project Mamata, it is a carefully thought through policy. West Bengal is important to America,given its location( read : next door to China). As a strategic partner in the region, Hillary would definitely be looking at Mamata as a future ‘friend of America’. As for Mamata, Hillary’s visit couldn’t have come at a better time. Mamata was in urgent need of some deft image fixing. And here was the American Secretary of State, no less, who had invested time and effort in getting to know Mamata a little better. Flattering? For sure. But not all that surprising.What better way to recognize Didi as the Slayer of Communism? The irony here is that Mamata has gone international well before she was accepted as a national leader. This is a win-win situation for both ladies. Didi will use the photo-ops to bare her teeth and throw her weight around at the Centre some more. While Hillary will have demonstrated yet one more time what an astute tactician she is. I definitely think Hillary should drink more beer. And go dancing with her gal pals. I’m sure her ratings back home must have improved after that delightful picture of her swigging straight from a bottle. I only wish she could have persuaded Didi to down a couple when they were together. There’s nothing like some serious female bonding over a pint, to figure out and solve a couple of pending global issues. Going by the chemistry displayed by these two superwomen, it is safe to conclude they made good music together.Now it remains to be seen who has to ultimately face it!

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Are desi celebs ready for celebrityhood??

This appeared in the Asian Age today....

Are Indian Celebs ready for celebrityhood...?

What happened at the Wankhede Stadium between Shah Rukh Khan, assorted officials, private body guards, cops, a 53-year-old security guard and a bunch of kids, has been extensively covered across several media platforms, and I’ll not bore you with details . But the latest incident involving a top Bollywood star and local authorities indulging in a pretty nasty public scrap , is definitely worth commenting on since it raises several issues related to our handling of celebrityhood. The very notion of çelebrity is comparatively new to India. Çelebrity, as opposed to fame. Fame is generally linked to achievement, whereas celebrity is a far looser, broader term that embraces notoriety equally. Unfortunately, we have yet to make that distinction when we describe anybody and everybody who has ever had a brush with publicity, as a celebrity. Worse, those very people start believing in their own, inflated sense of importance. I have heard obscure deejays and small time models strutting around at events aggressively demanding, “Get me into the VIP lounge... I am a celebrity.”Quite forgetting the first rule of celebrityhood : If you are indeed a bona fide celebrity, people should recognise you instantly without your having to hit someone on the head with it. Then comes another nauseating desi habit – pompous idiots who try and jump queues bellowing, “Don’t you know who I am?” The classic response to that is, “No, I’m sorry I don’t. Is there someone in the room who can help this person? He doesn’t know who he is?” Our obsession with famous people is understandable. In the old days, the only people who were recognised were politicians. Then came the first generation of Superstars from the film industry,( it wasn’t Bollywood back then), followed by cricketers. That was it. From Pandit Nehru,Dilip Kumar to Pataudi, India’s celebrity roster was pretty slim. What we are seeing today is a totally different ballgame. It is manufactured and media driven with humungous amounts of money involved in promoting certain individuals and protecting them more than other ordinary mortals. Which is why I wasn’t at all surprised when a co-panellist (on Arnab Goswami’s over-heated show, the night of the infamous brawl),glibly educated India on the importance of homegrown celebs. The guy who controls mega deals on behalf of his celeb clients,briskly counted five individuals in the country who represent Brand India internationally ( SRK,Salman Khan,Amitabh Bachchan,Sachin Tendulkar and Aamir Khan). He sported the look of an injured puppy when he asked, “These are our icons... and you want to demolish them?Destroy their brand equity?There are billions riding on these guys.” I nearly wept! Eventually, there was no moral argument left. It was only about safe guarding the financial interests of five individuals in a country of a billion-plus people. And to hell with other issues. Bizarre beyond belief.

Then came the “My daddy, best daddy’ arguments from the SRK groupies on the panel ( most had a financial stake in standing by their man). “He did what any father would do if his daughter was being manhandled,” was the chorus.Now, manhandling is a very serious charge, and if SRK can establish it, the outrage building up against his abusive conduct may peter out. That shouldn’t be too difficult to do given the witnesses and the cameras on the grounds. Equally, let us look at the other side of the coin - it is unfair to accuse SRK of drunken conduct, if that is hard to prove – which it definitely will be, since SRK was not subjected to an alcohol test the same night. So what this is going to lead up to is a whole lot of huffing and puffing on various channels, with brainy film industry types saying they’d rip someone’s head off for touching a child, and other equally sober comments. What is not as amusing is the attempt to polarise the situation by bringing Marathi parochialism into it. I have received nasty reactions from anonymous ( but, of course) viewers asking whether I , as a Maharashtrian, was upset with SRK because of his comment on a Marathi abuse that he said was so terrible he refused to repeat it on camera. I was also asked whether I was enraged by the loss of Mumbai Indians to SRK’s team that night. Hello! What if I said a la Rhett Butler, “Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn!”Which is perfectly true. I remain indifferent to cricket and I wish I knew more abuses in Marathi!

God knows where this is going. At the time of writing there are fresh charges rolling in from SRK’s camp. More serious ones. If the security guard ( who has been with the Wankhede stadium for 25 years) is proven guilty of ‘molestation’, that’s the end of this man’s career, and maybe his life.But the public will still be in the dark as to what causes Indian Idols like SRK and others, to lose control in public and then insist they are the real victims because of their celebrity status. He pretty much trotted out the same reasoning recently when he was questioned at the airport in America. Perhaps, he has genuine reason to feel martyred and put upon. It happens. One can forget the upside of celebrity in a flash. All the perks, all the privileges, everything that goes with the elevated position. As a family man who has always placed his children above all else, SRK will no doubt find countless supporters, especially in the film industry and the IPL world, where he is heavily invested, financially and otherwise. Perhaps, he should also consider investing in counselling and anger management, so that if someone or something does provoke him in future, he will do what most others would – report the matter instantly to the police and let the law handle it. Oh... a couple of basic Marathi lessons would help, too.

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Íshqzaade'- Romeo and Juliet in U.P.

Isn't this gate just too beautiful words? I clicked this inside the magnificent Opera House in Monte Carlo, during an engaging tour conducted by the very charming and passionate director of the historic Opera House, that has played host to just about every major Opera singer in the world.

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This appeared in Bombay Times today....

Romeo and Juliet in Uttar Pradesh...

Even if Director Habib Faisal is no Franco Zeffirelli ( his remains the definitive ‘Romeo and Juliet ’movie in my book) what he has managed to do with such energy and passion in ‘’ Ishqzaade”( such a tongue twister!) is still worth the 2-hour long watch. I caught it on a weekday at a late night multiplex show...and after ages and ages, I had tears streaming down my face when the lights came on. The ending came as no surprise.... we all know how Shakespeare concluded the classic. But it was Faisal’s deft treatment and Hemant Chaturvedi’s lyrical camerawork that made the climax so effective. Yes, the movie is an ode to violence. But seen in the context of how political games are still played in the badlands of Uttar Pradesh, where guns and gore are more eloquent than words and negotiations, the doomed love story of Parma and Zoya becomes that much more poignant.Especially since the dynamics of old enmities are clearly established right at the start of the narrative.Arjun Kapoor makes an impressive debut as the reckless , brash grandson of the Hindu MLA (superbly played by Anil Rastogi).While Parineeti Chopra as Zoya, the firebrand daughter of the Muslim MLA (and Rastogi’s arch riva)l looks ready to carve out a major chunk from Vidya Balan’s acting pie and positioning. Here’s a spunky actress with guts, talent and dollops of oomph. Hers is perhaps the toughest role in this raw, brutal story. But it also happens to be the best written one – fully fleshed out and minus any false notes. I particularly liked the unexpected chemistry laboratory scene that builds up into a bloody shoot out. Not only was it clever(underlining the ‘’çhemistry’’ between the reconciled lovers) , but it was also touchingly romantic, tender and very moving because of its implicit innocence.

Faisal knows his turf well. The language is rough, coarse and bawdy.Generously giving the peachy Gauhar two sizzling item songs AND dialogues in a couple of key scenes is also an inspired move. ” Chhokra Jawaa’’ is danced with vigour and overt virility by Arjun, while ” Pareshan” shows music man Amit Trivedi at his raunchy best.What movies like Íshqzaade’are doing is interesting. Backed by big houses ( this is a Yashraj film with Aditya Chopra as producer), they are throwing up new talent and fresh faces, thereby injecting a much needed booster shot into the stale, tired rubbishy Bollywood formula. Keeping budgets realistic, giving breaks to newcomers and not skimping on production values, will inevitably lead to new dynamics and better movies. Film makers who understand this hungry, demanding market and go boldly into fresh territories, will succeed on the strength of their originality and talent. Content is definitely king... at least in this movie. And perhaps it is time to get down on our knees and thank the Bard for providing inspiration to so many.

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Enough mileage has been derived from actors exposing their buns. When John Abraham lowered his neon green trunks for ‘Dostana’’ and became an overnight Gay icon, it marked a first. Poor Tusshar Kapoor may just end up becoming the butt end of mean jokes. Keep those trunks on, Tusshar. Never mind, for once, what sis Ekta orders!

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About the Wankhede episode involving SRK.... I said what I had to on Arnab Goswami's show earlier this evening. It was a pretty fiery debate... I'm sure you can catch it on the Times Now website, if you are interested.

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The sad saga of Jaya and George....

Please note the magnificent Anish Kapoor that stands proudly at the most prominent spot in Monte Carlo - right across the casino! My daughter Avantikka remained unimpressed after I kept gushing each time we passed it. She sniffed, "What's so great about it? Circus mirrors perform the same function - they distort reflection!" Oh well.... what do you guys think??

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This appeared in The Week last month....

The sad saga of Jaya and George….

Sometimes one wonders about the tricks life plays on unlikely characters. Jaya Jaitley and George Fernandes shared an extraordinary relationship stretching across forty years. They were more than mere ‘party colleagues’ at the Samata Party, and did not hide their special friendship from anyone, family included. It was assumed they had commonalities that went beyond socialist ideology. It was obvious they also shared a deep emotional bond. If people gossiped, it didn’t faze either of them. And so it remained for four decades…. till George Fernandes was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s and their lives changed overnight. Suddenly, Jaya was declared a persona non-grata by the people around George and denied access to a man she clearly loved… and who loved her. Now, nobody can really question the exact nature or quality of that love… not even Georges’ next-of-kin. Which is why it strikes me as being particularly sad that the Delhi High Court has refused to grant Jaya permission to visit George at his residence. Justice Manmohan Singh’s order states “She is neither a proper nor necessary party to the present suit and she is not in a relation with Mr. George Fernandes as that of the plaintiffs. I am of the considered view that the visiting rights also cannot be granted.” I’m sure Jaya is devastated. And so would George have been had he known about the developments.

One cannot question the wisdom of the learned judge. But in rare cases like this one, it seems particularly pathetic and frustrating, that two people who had devoted their lives to one another and were perceived as the closest confidantes by those who knew them, are not permitted access to each other, even if it is merely to say a final goodbye. No matter what the legalities are in this case (and certainly George’s family knows the minute details surrounding those), it’s still a shame that the woman he spent the major part of his life with ( for better or worse ), cannot be by his side when perhaps, he needs her the most! Why? Because Jaya and George do not possess that vital piece of paper which would legitimize their relationship and give it a name, an ‘official’ status, that society feels comfortable with. And more importantly, the law of the land upholds and recognizes. Jaya and Georges are not alone. There are other high profile ‘friendships’ ( to use a convenient euphemism) that have had to suffer similar indignities. A legendary Bollywood love story comes to mind. According to the grapevine, when a superhero was hospitalized after a serious accident on the sets of a film, his then lady love was not allowed to visit him at the hospital where he hovered between life and death for several months. Something similar was noted about a powerful, pioneering tabloid editor and his attractive ‘associate’ of several years, who was ‘banned’ from visiting her mentor when he suffered a stroke. In most cases, it is family members of these famous patients who start behaving like high security personnel or bodyguards. They suddenly re-discover their long forgotten love and devotion, as they protectively hover around the ailing person. Possessiveness takes on a new meaning as these near-strangers decide who can or can’t visit the seriously sick individual. Often, the subject of the diabolical dog-in-the-manger game is oblivious to these behind-the-scenes machinations. Nobody bothers to ask this one human being what his /her wishes are. It’s all about control and insecurity. Most times it is about money and property. Long lost family members emerge out of the woodwork to make sure nobody can stake a claim to their precious inheritance! When the honorable judge made a reference to ‘sentimental interest’ in Jaya’s case, I suppressed a small smile. I suppose sentiment counts for very little in the eyes of the law. And nobody is prepared to believe that there could be people – women in particular – who are not blood suckers and bounty hunters out to exploit a mentally or physically disabled partner. Who knows what the ramifications of the Jaya-Gerorge case really are? Only the two of them knew and understood the nature of their life together. It is nobody else’s business to pry or pass judgment. One can only hope that the person this affects the most – George Fernandes – is spared further humiliation and mental agony as he struggles to hang on to what remains of his fragile existence. We, as a nation, owe the ‘Giant Killer’ this much.

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India's sperm count looking good!

I photographed this vintage beauty in Monte Carlo....

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This appeared in the Sunday Times....

India’s Sperm Count looking good!

If the beefy John Abraham’s biceps are being flexed more than usual these days, it is with good reason. Abraham is one of the producers of this season’s sleeper hit, “Vicky Donor”. Let’s call it V.D. for short.The movie is an absolute original as it goes into forbidden territory with an insouciance that is rare in Hindi cinema and entirely disarming, given the subject – sperm donation.In a country of a billion plus, one would imagine that our last priority (or concern) would be sperm production. Again, given the stupidity of sperms,it is still more surprising that we face something of a shortage when it comes to robust sperms.British scientists tell us sperms have an ‘”appalling sense of direction, crashing into walls and each other in the race to reach the egg.” Scientists from the University of Warwick and the University of Birmingham have discovered that those silly sperms ”avoid the middle lane” of the female reproductive tract, preferring to hurtle along channel walls.They have eloquently compared the crazy sperms’ race to a “demolition derby.” Just as the world is shaking its head and wondering why the blessed sperms are so clueless, comes an Indian movie that tackles the subject head on. While the broader story revolves around the rather touchy topic of infertility and the travails of couples facing a life without kids, at the core is an entirely clever script that revolves around the strange bond between an infertility expert doctor( marvellously played by veteran Annu Kapoor), and Delhi boy Vicky, a ‘vella’ ( what a terrific acting debut for Ayushmann Khuranna)who lives with his hard working, widowed mother Dolly, and his feisty grandmother in the refugee colony at Lajpat Nagar.The experienced and wily doc identifies Vicky as the perfect donor after spying on and studying the easy going, cricket playing young man’s laidback lifestyle.The challenge is to convince the hero to donate his sperm (for money, of course), without anybody discovering his secret. The doc stops at nothing to lure the jobless fellow into his clinic, and deposit a sample, the chief inducement being easy cash.Some of which is paid upfront,while the rest handed over only after his robust sperm has done its job and impregnated some grateful recipient. To achieve this objective the doc convinces Vicky (with the help of a map that traces Alexander the Great’s journey) he’s doing something noble and admirable.Absurdly enough Vicky falls for the trick and starts believing he is a true Aryan, just like Alexander and his soldiers who had impregnated local women, leaving descendants with perfect Aryan sperm behind. The doc calls Vicky an asli Arya Puttar . Flattered by the spiel, a totally baffled but broke Vicky becomes the Doc’s star donor, a prized stud, with an incredible strike rate.

What follows is a madcap caper till the lid is finally blown off poor, exhausted Vicky’s cover and his beautiful ‘Bangalan’’ bride discovers what exactly her adorable husband does for a living. Unfortunately, the discovery leads to shock and revulsion as Vicky is shamed and disowned not just by his embarrassed and embittered wife, but his mother, neighbours and pretty much all the people who matter to him.The narrative is suitably loaded with choice Punjabi abuses.

One can enjoy the movie as just a quirky comedy if one wishes to. But it is much more than that.The film exposes several prejudices we harbour about sex and sexuality.About marrying a divorcee (Vicky’s bride) - a revelation that enrages Vicky’s mother, while the whiskey guzzling grandmother,is perfectly cool about it. Then there is a track about Vicky and Ashima’s inter-community marriage - a subject that remains a prickly issue across India even today.But at the heart of the film is the touching story about an innocent, somewhat lost young unemployed guy , a canny doctor, and an entire social construct that refuses to table an issue like sperm donation because of some inexplicable ‘shame’ involved in the procedure, which in reality brings so much joy into the lives of childless couples.That the subject is treated with humour, understanding and sensitivity is a tribute to the brave team (take a bow,Director Shoojit Sircar )which went ahead with as unconventional a subject and pulled it off. One is guessing there will be a better awareness of infertility after this movie. But more importantly, the S-Word is no longer taboo.

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Sun Moon Lake and more...

I wonder why more international tourists have not heard of this unique and very picturesque destination in Taiwan (Sun Moon Lake)? I spent two wonderful days at the well designed, luxurious Hotel Lalu ( Lalu means 'sacred' ) on the very edge of the lake, and I was totally blown away. If you ask me this gigantic lake ( and fresh water reservoir, built by the Japanese during the Occupation) is even better than the lake in Geneva. And far, far bigger. It is the size of 103 soccer fields, informed our breathless guide, as we took an hour long boat trip around the Sun part of the lake, which was crammed with tourists from Mainland China. Chiang Kai Shek has built a 9-floors high pagoda on the tallest hill around the lake, as a permanent tribute to his beloved mother. Today being Mother's Day, I thought I should mention it! Happy thoughts floated inside my head, as I watched an 80- year -old woman doing brisk business at her tiny kiosk near the jetty. She sells 'Tea Eggs' that are so delicious and so popular, she has become a legend! Imagine her sales - take a guess... okay, let me tell you. She sells 6,000 eggs a day, at 30 American cents an egg. And no, she doesn't want to sell a single egg more or less. And no again, she doesn't want to part with her secret recipe either - she says she will take it to her grave with her. I tasted one of her 6,000 eggs - and loved it! The appearance is awful - like the egg has been dipped in mud. She uses Assam tea from India to stain and flavour the eggs. What else goes into the heavily guarded recipe, heaven knows, but I can tell you, the egg's wonderful to taste. Oh, I was wearing talented fashion designer Masaba's really clever and most versatile 'Sacred Bull' print jacket for the boat trip. It received a lot of compliments!Mamma Neena must be so proud! And yes,yes,yes...it's Mother's Day, so I had to mention this,too.
After an hour long Spa treatment at the Lalu, I was entirely prepared and perfectly relaxed for my two hour presentation to a sharp, smart and incredibly good looking group of corporate honchos - mainly from the Asia Pacific region of a gigantic international brand. I think my presentation was well received, given the lively questions that the team bombarded me with right after. Then, it was time for a farewell banquet on the rooftop of the Fleur de Chine Hotel. The Sky Bar looked romantic and beautiful, with lilting music being played by a Chinese orchestra. As perfectly chilled Moet & Chandon was served in elegant flutes, and several toats raised, I thought of how fortunate I was to be in such a setting with such inspiring people.
Happy Mother's Day, Blogdosts....

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