Mumbai Ki Diwali

                                        Mumbai ki Diwali

I was in Delhi last week and was surprised when someone told me that Diwali started in Delhi more than a month ago. I scratched my head to figure that one out. Were we looking at the same calendar? Had I missed something? My Delhi friend clarified with a laugh. “All I meant was that the famous taash parties started a month ago.” That was funny. For most Dilliwallas, Diwali only means  cards. And parties are carefully structured around gambling tables. Everything else is incidental. As the same host put it, so long as there is enough daaru, nobody cares. The stakes in Delhi are always high – metaphorically and literally! The Festival of  Lights is now officially known as the Festival of Cards. Mumbai has its taash fanatics as well, but they are nowhere as hardcore as their counterparts in the Capital. In fact, this year in Mumbai has been mercifully brighter but not noisier, thanks to stepped up vigilance that has inhibited those over enthusiastic phatakawalas from lighting ear shattering pre-dawn bombs loud enough to wake the dead. Mumbai is at its prettiest during Diwali, and it’s a treat to drive around streets that are ablaze with diyas and kandeels. I went to Girgaum as usual for my Diwali shopping and was distraught on discovering a few significant changes in an otherwise lively locality. Two of my all-time favourite stores had changed hands. The laddoos simply did not taste the same. And the fragrant oils I used to buy from an old ittar shop, are not available any more. But the old gajrawalli is still there, even if her beautiful shevanti gajras are now priced at thirty rupees. It’s really quite incredible how Mumbai miraculously gets it all together for a few short days, and every person participates joyfully in celebrating Diwali -  India’s answer to X’Mas.Let’s hope this spirit of bonhomie and good will spills over to the days ahead, which may be rocky, given the rapidly changing political equations. What is still more amazing is the quantum of money floating around , despite spiraling costs and absurd prices of everything  - from diesel to diamonds. Did anybody foolishly mention inflation?

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Bollywood is at its glittering and most glamourous best during Diwali. As always, Sunita Kapoor’s Diwali  tofaa was declared the uncontested winner by all those fortunate enough to receive it. I still have the spectacular candles she sent two years ago. And her gigantic, hollowed out wooden ‘Books’ this year are equally impressive. To make a Diwali statement  year after year, requires not just an abundance of resources but an equal amount of good taste, imagination and an artistic vision. Anil is one lucky man! And so are those of us who enjoy their generosity year after year.

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I’d say one of the most fun evenings during this festive period was meticulously structured by ‘The Boys’ ( Abu-Sandeep) for ‘The Girls’. What a novel idea! And how supremely well done! Mumbai and Delhi…. a tale of two cities that couldn’t be more different. The contrasts become even more glaring during Diwali. Discretion over vulgarity. Taste over excess. But ….hey – who cares? Diwali hai! Maja karo!

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Nitin Gadkari flunks his I.Q. test.....

This is my Laddoo eating her laddoo , while Aditya, her proud

''Mamuji"' looks on....

 Happy Dhanteras, Blogdosts! May Goddess Lakshmi step into your home tonight, and never leave...

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This appeared in the Sunday Times today....

                                                                      Nitin Gadkari flunks his I.Q. test…

I was having my usual Sunday morning chat with Dawood Mamu,while he was enjoying a spa treatment in Dubai. He sounded rather annoyed. And when Dawood Mamu gets annoyed ,as we well know by now, hotels and stations blow up in Mumbai. Sensing the dangerous mood, I tried to divert his attention by discussing the latest James Bond movie. Had he watched ‘Skyfall’ and ordered a couple of Komodo Lizards for himself? Just to break the monotony of crushing bones manually? He was not amused. He witheringly reminded me that all those absurdly exaggerated 007 feats were nothing but amateurish screen  acts. Real men didn’t go for such childish stunts. Or high tech special effects. Real men did what real men had to – 26/11 ki yaad hai? Besides… he was now a changed man concentrating on giving back to society. Oh dear! That  sounded  ominous.And seemed even more menacing than his old, wonderful plots to fix those he didn’t particularly like. With ‘that date’ round the corner, this was not the time to jest with Dawood Mamu. So, I switched gears and asked in my sweetest tone why he was upset. And I could hear my friend instruct the masseur to stop pummeling his strained neck muscles while he bellowed, “Who is this man I am being compared to by that chap Nitin bhai?” I said, “ Please don’t refer to our highly respected leader as a ‘Bhai’. Nitin Gadkari is loved and admired by millions of people in India. And the rest, don’t count. The person he compared your good self to, is Vivekananda. Often referred to as Swami Vivekanand.” Dawood Mamu paused momentarily before demanding, “ Uska mobile number de do… woh.. woh…Viveka… jo kuch bhi hai. I want to talk to him. Is he an actor or a cricketer?” I hesitated before clarifying, he was neither an actor, nor a cricketer. And it was not possible to pass on his mobile number. Dawood  Mamu roared and refused to let me carry on . “ Everything is possible! Samjhi?  I am giving you an hour. Swamiji ka number dhoondo… varna.”

When we resumed our interrupted chat a little later, he seemed  calmer. He said he had found out from his khaas sources why he couldn’t reach Vivekananda. But was now keen to have a small tete –a- tete with Nitin Bhai ( he was still calling him ‘Bhai’). For starters, he wanted to know what the meaning of I.Q. was, and whether the initials were a code for something highly confidential only known to our agencies but not to the ISI. “ I.Q. ka matlab?” I attempted to decode the initials. But Dawood was on his own trip. “ I want to meet this man who is comparing me to some dead Indian person, I am not aware of. My izzat is damaged. I only know and care about Bollywood stars and Cricket khiladis. This comparison is not good. Mera bahut bada insult ho gaya hai. And when someone insults me so directly, I have to react equally directly. Give me Nitin Bhai’s mobile number.” I mentioned it was Diwali in India. And Nitin Gadkari was not available… he was busy defusing several bombs. As were most of his colleagues, regardless of the party they belonged to. Dawood Mamu offered to send a few specially created bombs across the border. It was his contribution, he said, to make sure there were enough fireworks during this season. But he still wanted a private chat with the heavyweight who had dared to make such an odious comparison. “Today, it is some Indian saint…. tomorrow it could be Gandhi. Not the bachcha. But the Mahatma. This has created a problem for me with my friends and allies across the world. My position becomes dheela with such talk.I want to explain that to your Nitin Bhai… before it’s too late. For him, I mean.”

I tried to tell Dawood Mamu that in India we don’t spoil anybody’s happiness during the Festival of Lights by bringing up unpleasant topics. Gadkariji has clarified and the matter of his own I.Q. has been settled. But, if Dawood Mamu was interested, I could set up phone calls with Nitinji’s core team of advisers, consultants and business associates, like his driver, cook, car washer, dhobi, barber, peon. When Dawood Mamu laughed, I told him to relax. This was no joke. He could verify for himself. We respect share holders and company directors in India. And only a person with a staggeringly high I.Q. would make such inspired appointments of and create companies for those he admires and trusts – like his personal staff. Dawood Mamu was not entirely convinced. “Ask your Nitin Bhai to meet me in Dubai. I’ll give him a Diwali tofaa he won’t forget. And just by the way… who is this chap called Kejriwal?  Assange ka brother hai, kya? Why does he whistle so much??? Do you have his mobile number?”

What a Diwali! Bombs,bombs everywhere… no place to hide!

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De Parivaar wishes you Happy Diwali!

Arundhati and I went Diwali and Aakash Kandeel shopping... to our favourite haunt in Girgaum.... and Blogdosts, this doesn't look like Shanghai, does it??

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Brand Bond...

More mugs.... more books....Barista has got it right!
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                            Brand Bond…

What happens when one of the world’s most recognized brands decides to reposition itself? Well….f or starters, it’s a huge risk! But what a brilliant risk it turned out to be in the case of  ‘Skyfall’, the boldest Bond film ever. It needed the genius of a Sam Mendes to deconstruct a powerful franchise, nurtured over 50 long years and come up with something that challenges the entire mythology around James Bond. ‘Skyfall’ is about courage. Not physical . But moral and emotional. This is not the typical 007 masala movie. It takes a gigantic leap into the dark unknown. And that unknown is the mind. This is by far the  most layered, deep and philosophical Bond blockbuster, that dares to go where the others haven’t – into the agent’s shadowy past and heart. In fact, the film is so damn dark, there is hardly any relief, even visually. If anything, the Union Jack fluttering behind Bond’s head, is the only bright image….perhaps a deliberate reminder and reassertion of the essential Englishness of the original book and film. An Englishness that had got lost or had become stilted during the last three decades.

The character of Bond himself was made to stand on its head this time, and it was brave indeed of the craggy Craig to display a grey stubble, show signs of fatigue, and play 007 with an air of resignation for the most part. It was the subtle coming to terms with the new order and a new world, that made his Bond so appealingly vulnerable. Then again, Mendes seems to mock physical beauty, which was once the USP of the brand. Everybody in this movie looks pretty ugh, including Bardem ( a bow in the direction of  ‘No Country for Old Men’?). It’s a dramatic clash of two worlds, different values, in which there is no place for the old ( goodbye, Judi Dench, hello, Ralph Fiennes). Even the starchy Miss Moneypenny from earlier films is replaced by a sassy, foxy Black girl. As for the latest Q ( quartermaster), he turns out to be a geeky, bespectacled, arrogant alarmingly young genius ‘with spots’.

But it is M’s role ( brilliantly played as always by Judi Dench) that officially signals the end of an era  and the reinvention of the Brand Bond. The new M is a handsome chap in a sharp suit, and not a mysterious, menacing, middle aged spook. Just as Bond himself  is a changed man who abandons his sardonic, emotionless, stony façade and reveals hidden secret sorrows! Worse, Bond is filled with self doubts! Eventually, it is a vintage Aston Martin that provides the best clue to what audiences can expect next.The car is made to appear quaint and sexy. The clash of the two worlds,two value systems, is dealt with neatly in Skyfall, summed up in the cheeky words of the brat Q when he informs Bond  that the era of ‘exploding pens’ is over. ‘Skyfall’ is about transition. The danger this time is internal. The enemy - within. It demands introspection from viewers. M quotes Ulysses ( inspired choice, there!). And the eternal fight between tradition and change is wonderfully captured against the stark backdrop of the Scottish moors, when a hunting rifle, a few sticks of dynamite, and an old fashioned knife are all that old man Finney can offer Bond. Of course, we know Bond will win this round. Even if the enemies are armed to the teeth and arrive in a monster chopper. Stylishly carrying the torch of tradition forward during the fantastically choreographed finale was a fine display of  Mendes’ bravado at its most dazzling.

 Brand Bond just got bigger. Much bigger. That’s pure brilliance.

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Coffee-Shoffee ho jayaye ?

This Sethji, na????

As the invitation makes clear, Sethji will be serving garma garam, tagdi Barista Coffee across India, starting tomorrow. Blogdosts in Mumbai, if you feel like a mug or two, aajao. Chembur awaits you. Uske baad, the Sethji Coffee goes wherever Sethji goes - all over our Bharat Desh!
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This appeared in Bombay Times today.... the debate rages on....

                        Writer Vs.Writer….

This is just too delicious! Girish Karnad says he waited for ten long years to ‘fix’ Vidia Naipaul. And he did it in Mumbai – neutral zone for both. But, the deed was done  behind  Naipaul’s  back and at a session described as a masterclass in theatre. Does that qualify as a masterstroke? Ummmm…. that depends. Karnad insists it doesn’t. A platform’s a platform. And who cares about good form, manners, etiquette or politeness. Quite! Much has been written about this one sided spat. Fortunately, so far, at least, Naipaul has loftily ignored the attack. And wonder of wonders, so has Naipaul’s  fiery wife, the Fearless Nadira. Perhaps being in Goa has distracted both of them enough to say, ‘Jaaney Bhi Do,Yaaron…” and that may be a good thing. But it still leaves the writers’ community somewhat baffled. And it is not enough for Karnad to say he finds Naipaul’s opinions offensive. Of course, they are! Hugely offensive and downright rude. Some of them, at any rate. So what? Where does it say that writers must stick to politically correct views and toe the official line? Which Awards’ Committee  on earth ‘explains’ its choices to the public or seeks endorsements from colleagues? Every award in the world, in whichever category, has its share of detractors who challenge the wisdom of the Jury. That’s normal. From the Nobel to the Oscar’s, to assorted sports’ awards, there are hoots galore when the names of winners are announced. Naipaul is used to that and more. Naipaul has never been an establishment man. He doesn’t opt for safe. That’s Naipaul. His readers know him for his contrarian views…. and admire him for precisely that attribute.

On the other hand, Karnad has accepted Government honours and positions. It is therefore, interesting to debate why he chose to criticize Naipaul at this point. Timing is everything. The political divide in India has never been this obvious or this ugly. Which side is Karnad on? Clearly not the BJP’s. Challenging the ideology of   another writer is perfectly acceptable. And Karnad has every right to register his rage over what he considers Naipaul’s pro-Right, anti-Muslim views. But Naipaul is not contesting an election. And he is not a politician who happens to write on the side. The Lit Fest Award recognized his brilliance as a writer.Period. Whether or not he understands the relevance and importance of music. Next, we’ll get someone up in arms wondering whether Girish Karnad, another brilliant writer, understands quantum physics? And if not, how dare he call himself an intellectual. Perhaps, it’s best to adopt Naipaul’s admirable sang froid and move on. Naipaul’s a difficult old goat – thank God! We need more Naipauls. Mercifully,his books aren’t sleeping pills. Nor are they soft, comfy duvets under which readers can conveniently slip and snore away. Naipaul’s books are specially sharpened razors that cut and make readers bleed. There is no comfort zone in Naipaul’s world. That’s what makes him Naipaul. Girish Karnad may want to reach for his favourite antacid and settle his digestion (the bile!). And come back again and again to conduct more masterclasses in Mumbai. For, like Naipaul, we need many more Karnads , too.

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On a brighter, lighter, Diwali note, the ladies who shine and dine (they also do lunch , brunch and high teas) have declared boldly and recklessly that Curves are the new Thin. Which is great news for mithaiwalls who were beginning to despair. Time to go on a guilt free food trip and gorge, gorge, gorge.

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Woh 50 crores walli Girl friend!

Okay.... here goes.... the black and white image was shot by ace photographer and friend, Pradeep Chandra at the Sethji book launch.  The one below also features ace photographer and friend, Gita Pandit at the Mujras and Gajras party for Sethji....
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This appeared in the Asian Age yesterday....

Dekho Bhai, we have to feel a little sorry for Narendra Modi. He is rustic and rough in speech and action. What’s the point teaching him good manners? Preaching and lecturing? Here’s a guy who has made a career out of giving offence. So, he slyly referred to Sunanda Tharoor ( as ripe and luscious as a Kashmiri peach!) in  what Bollywood would aptly describe as a ‘ghatiya’ way. Modi took pot shots at the equally peachy Shashi by putting a price tag on the ‘priceless’ lady ( from Peach to Kohinoor). That was a really low blow. Come on – 50 crores? That just about covers a few blow dry sessions at a good hair salon, plus, a spa treat at Ananda in the Himalayas. Modi is a Gujjubhai. He understands the value of money. How could he have said ‘50 crores’? That is so insulting! What is 50 crores in today’s day and age? Chillar! Small change! Pocket money for Babalog. Unless …. and this is a big one – Modi was being seriously wicked. He could have said 500 crores. Or 5,000 crores. Those are respectable numbers. But by specifying 50 crores, Modi was definitely making a point. Modi is like that, only! Sab kuch undervalue karta hai. We should not take this naughty remark seriously. In fact, we shouldn’t take anything Modi says too seriously. This is Narendrabhai’s ishstyle. He has not been to posh schools and colleges. He has not hinted he had been offered the U.N. Secretarry General’s post. Modi thinks crude, talks crude. His followers love that about him. Contrast his comments with the wry, witty, polished comeback of  Sunanda’s besotted husband. Now, why Love Guru Shashi bothered to take notice of Modi’s sexist remark is anybody’s guess. But his riposte only made things worse. Hell hath no fury like a loyal hubby scorned, it appears. And by rushing to defend Sunanda’s honour, our newly minted Ministerji, compounded the original sin. The Luscious Lady herself, was seen across channels pouting sexily and asking why we are shocked by Modi’s lowdown behaviour, when he has killed so many Muslims in Gujarat and not apologized. It is a bit hard to make the connection… but what the hell. Sunanda is so pretty. We would rather watch her on tv strenuously making a point about the apology that never came than any of the other toads croaking away about corruption.

Modi is a seasoned headlines grabber. His latest comment was carefully timed to embarrass the Congress, now that the gloves are officially off. By targeting Sunanda, he killed two birds with one pathar. He diverted national attention  from the sordid Gadkari saga. And he showed his own partywallas who has more guts when it comes to hitting below the belt. While the portly Gadkari huffed and puffed his way through assorted rallies, Modi sat tight and let hirelings take the Pushkar  story forward over Twitter. The verdict was out instantly. While women’s organizations rallied behind poor Pushkar ( who, in her own words, had also been touched inappropriately and had various body parts bruised in Tiruvananthpuram) most of Shashi’s admirers ( he has several) were of the opinion the man should have stayed out of this round. But who’s to tell Shashi? Twitter nearly killed his career earlier. But the man is an addict! His Tweets are priceless. Only Priyanka Chopra  boasts of  more followers. And that’s a feat. Phir bhi, Shashi’s upper cut could not  possibly have dented Modi’s aggressive charge. Jo kehena tha, who kehey diya. The damage was done.

About the 50 crore price tag. Well… I did ask around. And the swish ladies I spoke to laughed out loud. That’s peanuts, they scoffed.And added, no beautiful woman in her right mind would settle for something as alarmingly low, given our inflationary times. So…. Was it just the modest number that was the issue here? Ummmm – yes, it was the primary issue, but not the only one. Many chingoos hubbies call their wives ‘priceless’ when they don’t want to splurge real bucks on them. Most smart wives see through the trick – and demand cash! Priceless is no compliment, they insist. They’d rather see real money. This complicates matters further. What’s a pampered wife supposed to say or do if  the mad-for- her husband tries to fob her off with a denomination-free ‘priceless’ tag? Say, ‘Thank you ji’ and go back to her Karwa Chauth? Or consult a canny lawyer? We live in tough times. Us girls need to be practical. No point in getting hoity-toity. 50 crores is 50 crores. Maybe Modi has unwittingly triggered a mini-revolt! What if every girl friend of a politician now starts demanding a deposit of 50 crores in her bank account? Tauba! Tauba!  Given the staggering number of politicians with GFs, one can safely say, Kejriwal and company  have a lot of  hard work ahead!

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Sethji comes to town!

Blogdosts, he's here!

Are you ready for Sethji???? What a fabulous book launch. I'd say, one of the best!  That's my hottie editor, Chiki Sarkar, and our man in Mumbai, the dependable trouper Harish, with newbie Fiero at the back. We are wearing  '' Í am NOT Sethji' caps .... you go figure the reference!
Pity Karnad rained on the parade, and dampened spirits. I was not aware of what Karnad had said during his session. All I heard hours later was that Karnad had converted his slot into a Naipaul bashing slugfest.Aah well.... every Lit Fest has its moments. The Karnad salvo marked this one.

More selfishly speaking.... I thoroughly enjoyed my session. Take a bow Anil Dharker! As for Jayant Kripalani.... what do I say? At short notice, Jayant read out chapter 33 from Sethji. It was a flawless , dramatised reading that gave the audience a rich flavour of the book.

I was still recovering from the amazing surprise party organised by my family the night before... more on that tomorrow....

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