Ciao for now....!

GUYS... I'M GONE!! Hong Kong and Macau. But please don't abandon this space and miss me lots! Back next sunday. Ciao for now....
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This appeared in Bombay Times today....

Dil Toh Kachcha Hai Ji….

Last week’s IT raids established how star struck even those hard boiled IT guys really are! Look at the juicy tidbits they put out in the press…. the one about Shahid answering Priyanka’s door bell, for example. If these chaps imagined all of India would go ‘Haaawww! What was Shahid (clad in boxers) doing in Priyanka’s home at the crack of dawn?” they must have been sorely disappointed.Nothing of the sort happened. India has moved on, buddies. We are pretty shock proof and totally cool about such things these days. And in any case, it’s better to have a handsome, co-star around to greet an income tax raiding party than a hysterical maid or an aggressive pit bull. Of course, most of the early leaks ( how many flats, how much money, heaps of jewellery) have since been rubbished by the star’s lawyers. But those early revelations were pretty spicy. People were more interested in whether Shahid offered a cuppa to the IT guys, than the exact number of properties owned by Priyanka. As for the Katrina ki Kahani ( along with her jawaani), that was funnier still. According to reports she insisted on some sort of ‘immunity’ since she is a British citizen. Till somebody apparently pointed out to her that she may well be a British citizen, but she isn’t a diplomat!
It is always a matter of amusement and concern who the IT guys pick for these raids.From as far back as I remember, our movie stars were their favourite targets. Not just that, these were always the most publicized raids with detailed reports of how the raiding parties went about their work systematically… almost sadistically. I guess they were\are just doing their job. But why target movie stars whose net worth is piddly compared to the net worth of our netas and assorted scamsters who never face a day of questioning or harassment…. till a major expose catches up with them. Today’s mega stars have an army of financial advisors to take them through our complicated and maddening tax structures. In the old days, they just stuffed mattresses with hard cash and slept on their money. A later report about the recent raids talked about a contraption called the ‘Hero’ which reads computer files. Let’s see what this smart Hero comes up with .But as of now, the IT guys must be feeling pretty sheepish since they seemed to have got ‘illey’ out of this outing.Even so, the public’s sympathy is with the stars – at least these people entertain us – what do those other fat cats do but plunder and loot? Why not go after the real culprits and leave our sitarey alone? We are willing to condone a few financial lapses here and there in the spirit of saat khoon maaf.
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It was a toss up between watching ‘Burlesque’ and ‘Dil to Bachcha hi Hai.” You’d think the choice was pretty obvious – right? Well, I nearly bought tickets for the latter… and am congratulating myself for picking ‘Burlesque’ which was scintillating all the way. Being a huge fan of Cher, I take my chances with any film that features her. In this one, she is perfectly, almost heart breakingly cast as the feisty owner of a Burlesque Lounge Bar on Sunset Boulevard. Cher looks botoxed beyond belief… waxen… mummified. But she’s Cher – and she’s gorgeous. The rollicking dance routines featuring Christina Aguilera belting out classics ( ‘Diamonds are a girl’s best friend’) along with the raunchy, sexy title track, leave you gasping for more. As the tag line goes – ‘It takes a legend (Cher) to make a star ( Christina)’. ‘Burlesque’ is no ‘Chicago’, but I preferred it to ‘Moulin Rouge’ – so strike me dead. ‘….Rouge’ had Nicole… but this one has the priceless Cher.No, it’s definitely not “The last of her.” My dil is very, very kachcha ji!

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M.A.C. - The Knife, Mickey!

This appeared in Bombay Times ....I have enjoyed the laziest sunday ever.... a relaxing massage...and the best neer dosas made by Shanti, a new entrant in the kitchen. If she continues to cook as well and as enthusiastically, I'll blimp out and feel totally wretched.
Am off to Hong Kong and Macau for a few days. Strictly no lap top - that's the drill. May get to post something tomorrow. As of now, my heart is in Cairo..... one of my favourite cities.
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Mickey - the BIG mac


Mickey the Magician is in a league of his own. As one of the most respected make –up artists on the sub –continent, Mickey really does not have an equal. The reason he is so good at what he does is simple – Mickey is as passionate about warpaint, as Sachin is about cricket. I met Mickey many moons ago, much before he became the wizard of makeovers. I was astonished by his fluency in marathi, particularly the ease with which he used slang and cuss words. He explained he’d picked up colloquial marathi while an apprentice with Pandhari Dada, the Godfather of movie make up in India. For a young Parsee boy from Central Mumbai (where he continues to live with his wife and two children), to the toast of Milan, Paris and beyond, Mickey has remained admirably sane and thoroughly professional over the years. If Aishwarya Rai, Madhuri Dixit, Rani Mukherjee and Kaajol swear by Mickey, it’s with good reason – he’s the best! I remember one of his earliest shoots with Kaajol…. later with Rekha… and how much in control he was even as a newbie working with divas. He was so sure of the level of his work, he refused to be bullied by anybody. The results were there for all to see. Mickey’s base ( the foundation of good make-up) is faultless. As a ‘less is more’ believer, he makes a woman look like a total Goddess by skillfully highlighting her best features and camouflaging the worst. Just as a talented painter’s brush moves smoothly and seamlessly over a canvas, when Mickey works on your face it is with the same dedication – faces are his canvases.
We don’t meet very often these days, but the bond remains as strong and comfortable as ever. We laugh over old shoots, gossip, trade make-up tricks… but mainly we discuss kids and education! Mickey is one of the most hands on dads and knows his kids’ study schedules probably better than they themselves do.His dreams and plans for their respective futures are discussed with a touching level of concern in his voice. Today, Mickey is a star and has a signature line of make –up, especially created by him for one of the most prestigious international brands of cosmetics. I’m pretty certain Mickey’s range will rock. You know why? He was the first make-up artist to identify the peculiarities of our desi skin tone and address it directly. For years and years, all glamour shots of models and actresses looked chalky, ghostly and ghastly, because the right tones for the base were designed for Caucasian paleness or the chocolate complexions of Blacks. We have a yellowish undertone to our skin tone which was totally overlooked by cosmetics’ companies. It was Mickey who started mixing yellow-based foundations from Japan into the regular ones in the market to create the perfect blend for desis. I am looking forward to his latest triumph. If only we could all look like Aishwarya in ‘Robot’. Sigh…..
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Moni Mohsin is just the liveliest voice out of Pakistan. Forget the very self-conscious Fatima Bhutto ( who is dismissed as an air head back home), and check out Moni’s book ‘Tender Hooks’ . As a fan of her earlier work ‘The Diary of a Social Butterfly’ ( a collection of hip, cool, satirical and savage columns), I was delighted to meet the elegant and supremely poised writer during her short stay in Mumbai last week. Over a stylish dinner for ten friends at Mumbai’s newest SOBO restaurant (presided over by celebrated international chef Joey Altman), Moni effortlessly held centre stage as she talked about Pakistani politics and politicians and perfectly mimicked the peculiar Punjabi accent of a talent scout peddling pin up shots of nubile star aspirants. When I told her to ‘keep coming back’, she quipped, “ Would love to…but how, ji? The visa- wallas think all Pakistanis come to Mumbai via Chowpatty beach travelling in dinghies.” Touche!

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'Dhobi Ghat'.....

This appeared in Asian Age \ Deccan Chronicle today....


When the Spouse is not a Mouse…but Superman!

I watched this season’s most publicized movie, ‘Dhobi Ghat’ with enormous interest. Of course, when Aamir Khan is backing a film project, it goes without saying every conceivable media platform is thoroughly, systematically and totally carpet bombed. With his wife’s virgin effort as director-writer, Aamir spared not a single effort, stopping short of climbing up the Qutub Mahal and declaring his undying love for second wife, Kiran. Aamir could successfully teach courses at Harvard on how to market a product – he is that brilliant! But the more interesting aspect of this particular promotion was the cleverly calibrated positioning of Kiran Rao. This is where Aamir’s genius lies. As a debut movie, ‘Dhobi Ghat’ is respectable enough. But it certainly does not generate shock and awe , nor can it be considered a major breakthrough film that is a game changer ( ‘Dil Chhata Hai’ falls into that category). It is delicate and subtle in the familiar art house tradition, but not powerful enough to be touted as a cinematic coup for the first time director. The question to ask in all fairness is : Would ‘Dhobi Ghat’ have received as much attention had Kiran Rao not been Aamir Khan’s wife? The answer is a flat ‘no’. But, what the hell.What’s the point of being married to the most powerful man in Bollywood and not leverage the relationship? I hugely enjoyed the spin! All those cutsie stories about how she insisted on Aamir auditioning for the film…. I mean… we are talking AAMIR! Or, what a hard time she gave him on the sets by subjecting him to reverse discrimination. All these nuggets of modern day equations in a very contemporary marriage really tickled our imagination enough to go watch the film. And that, my dears, was the intention all along! I took in a few of their television interviews and read the print versions, just like thousands of others ( there was no escape from these two last fortnight) . The entire strategy was faultless – they held hands, referred to one another as ‘my love’, and trotted out the same spiel interview after interview, without once looking bored or jaded. Now that’s a feat! Finally, after watching the 95th interview ( same coy, adoring glances from Kiran, same self-deprecatory anecdotes from Aamir), I felt exhausted. But hey – let’s hand it to them – this is what is known as true professionalism. Each oft-repeated quote and recycled cliché sounded fresh, spontaneous and new! Hats off to the two of them for their dedication to the product. For, without that, ‘Dhobi Ghat’ would have been dismissed as yet another slightly confused, well intentioned movie. Aamir, perhaps anticipating just such a response, preempted criticism by informing those who weren’t going to ‘get it’, that the movie was not for everybody! It was a delicate and refined cinematic experience meant for those evolved, educated cineastes capable of appreciating his wife’s genius. If such condescension annoyed a few critics, Aamir was instantly condoned – he is Aamir, after all.
When I walked out of the multiplex after catching a late evening show, my daughters were sniffling away – they had fallen deeply in love with Prateik.Their emotions are entirely understandable. Prateik is adorable as Munna, the dhobi who dreams of becoming a Bollywood star someday. Casting Prateik was an inspired choice, and one must congratulate Kiran for not succumbing to spouse pressure and casting Aamir for this pivotal role ( according to the lovey dovey couple, Aamir was lusting after it). It is the characters of Munna and Shai( played with admirable finesse by Monica Dogra) that linger after the viewing, and leaves the audience somewhat relieved that Aamir’s Arun does not hijack the story, nor does Aamir the superstar hog the script. In fact, most viewers agreed that just about any unknown could have played Aamir’s part and there isn’t a single memorable scene that stays from his segment of the inter-linked narrative. One actually waits hungrily for Prateik to appear on the screen…and break our hearts. For me, it is pure sentimentality and nostalgia ( I knew and loved Prateik’s mother, the late Smita Patil). But beyond mush, it is evident to anybody how instinctive and inspiring Prateik is as an actor. There is nothing studied or ‘filmi’ about the boy. He is an absolute natural who projects an almost heart breaking level of innocence and vulnerability. Kiran has written Prateik’s role exceedingly well , devoid of even a single false note. Can’t say the same about Aamir’s Arun, who mouths the most ridiculous lines about Mumbai (“ My muse, my beloved, my whore…”). It is also pretty apparent that Aamir is not entirely comfortable speaking English and is far more himself when the dialogues are Hindi.
But beyond the movie and how it fares commercially lies a deeper message for women in cinema. There have been other successful directors like Aparna Sen and Kalpana Lajmi here, Mira Nair and Gurinder Chhadha overseas. The one thing that separates them from Kiran Rao is the Aamir Factor. These ladies did not have the backing and clout of a superstar-spouse…and that is the biggest difference. Today, Kiran is fully sorted as a film maker, regardless of how her first film performs at the box office. She can write her own ticket, name her price and effortlessly get the next project… and the next… off the ground. She may or may not sign her superstar husband next time ( she should go solo after the heavy duty togetherness of this project), but with or without Aamir Khan, Kiran Rao is officially on a roll. Good for Kiran. An intelligent spouse should never underestimate the power of two. Look at Hillary and Bill Clinton! In the movie business, it works in exactly the same way. If Angelina Jolie decides to turn director someday, she’d be seriously dumb not to get Brad Pitt involved…..and they are not even officially a couple. Frankly, Kiran Rao and Aamir occupy a pretty unique slot – I can’t think of another power couple in the movie world , who enjoy the same profile. Tom Cruise comes to mind, but Katie Holmes, his better half, is a glamourous actress, not a determined director . It would be interesting to monitor Kiran’s next move , rather, movie! This one had her cutie –husband declaring publicly that he had fallen in love with his wife one more time after reading her script. How will Aamir top that? Who knows? As they say in Bollywood, ‘Dil To Pagal Hai.’ Kiran sounds smart enough to check-mate her mate many times over. Perhaps that is the asli secret of their successful partnership?

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Marathon woman!

Yes, a few prizes for finding me in that crowd of CHILDLINE bachchas....
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Haaaaash! Back on the blog after what seems like ages! My laptop had taken a chill pill and was comatose for a few days. I was taking it a little easy as well and giving my painful, swollen wrist a chance to heal. Was dying to tell you what I really, really thought of 'Dhobi Ghat' ( tomorrow's post - promise!). I spent a day in my favourite city (Pune), and that disrupted my writing schedule. Ate a terrific meal at the brand new, but largely deserted 'Ista'. Was delighted to meet up with Mumbai Chef Anthony ( 'India Jones' )who rushed into the kitchen and prepared an impromptu feast for the four of us. India's first 'Hermes' store has picked 'Ista' and 'Pune' as a location. That shows one hell of a lot of faith in both!
I spent a wonderful hour- and -a -half at the Strand Book Exhibition. It was for the launch of a very special book - Will Durant's 'The Case for India' ( written in 1930), translated into Marathi by Kalyan Varde ( a labour of love). It is a must read for anybody interested in history and Durant's passionate, power packed tribute to what he describes as 'the greatest civilisation on earth'. The contents may shock and pain the unwary. Most documented histories are suppressed , distorted truths. Here is an American intellectual's fearless version of what the British really did to us - just 68,000 of them in a country of 32 crore people at the time. I hope the book gets translated into all our regional languages so that our children finally learn what my generation was never told - the truth.
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This appeared in The Week....

Nothing ‘diplomatic’ about this mess…

Years ago, I had a lady called Binabai working in our home. She was extraordinarily cheerful and good to have around when the children were growing up. Even though she was illiterate, her basic common sense had earned her a doctorate in my eyes. She had a solution for virtually every crisis and most of the time, her advice was sound and sensible. Strongly built and ready to work hard, she was my Rock of Gibraltar, especially on those days when I was low on energy and high on stress. One day she found me sniffling after some silly argument with my husband. She came up close and asked conspiratorially, “Did he beat you a lot?” My sniffling stopped instantly as I whirled around and said, “ Don’t be ridiculous! Beat me?? ME??? Are you crazy?” She shook her head and sighed, “I am not crazy. Men are like that. You are lucky your husband doesn’t raise his hand on you.” I launched into a speech on domestic violence and how crucial it was for all women to be aware of their rights… I lectured her about our laws, the role of cops, various social service organizations that protect victims.” Binabai was unimpressed and far from convinced. She pushed up the sleeve of her saree blouse and showed me a deep scar, “See this? My husband attacked me with a wood chopper… why? Because one of the chappatis I’d served him was burnt at the edges.” before I could react in horror to that, she opened up her hair which was tied in a bun and exposed her scalp, “Look at this gash – another attack with the chopper. This time for not washing his clothes properly.” Too pained and shocked to say very much, I just held her as we wordlessly communicated in the universal language of women – silence.
Binabai’s story came to mind while reading about the ‘wife-beater’ from London – senior diplomat Anil Verma. There are conflicting reports about what really went wrong between him and his wife Paromita, to create such a major diplomatic incident, but clearly something terrible must have happened. Paromita is not Binabai. She is an educated and empowered woman who works for the Indian Railways. If her claims are true, she mutely put up with physical abuse at the hands of her husband because he taunted her by saying nothing and nobody could touch him since he enjoyed diplomatic immunity. Amazingly enough, she bought that bogus story and kept mum. Going by some of the reports, the turning point came when Anil flew into a rage over a X’Mas tree sent to their London home by Paromita’s relatives. A rage that made him attack his wife and harm her physically. Make any sense? Either the senior diplomat is a certified psycho, or someone is making up stories. Since he enjoys a minister’s rank and was once the private secretary of Pranab Mukherjee, it is assumed he will receive special treatment, and may waltz away after a token reprimand or two. Paromita who was ‘scolded’ by Rajendra Prasad ( deputy high commissioner) for going public with a ‘private’ matter, is in hiding at the time of writing, and is reported to have fled her Hampstead home with blood gushing down her face. There is an attempt to accuse her of dramatizing this incident since she wants to seek asylum in Britain and stay on. Even if that is so, she is not the one who has committed a crime. No matter what the provocation, if her injuries are anything to go by, Paromita deserves justice and Verma must be punished for his brutality. Will that happen? Will we have the guts to prosecute someone in Verma’s privileged position? Or will pressure be put on Paromita to withdraw the charges in return for a goody bag that includes perks that may sort out her visa issues?
This is but a solitary case that has attracted media attention because of the personalities involved. But for every Paromita whose story of domestic violence gets into the public domain, there are countless others who are forced to ‘shut up and put up’. The standard advice doled out to them is , “Don’t bring shame to the family.” What of those women? Who is there to fight their battle for them? Frankly, no one. So long as our society’s mind set remains stuck and warped, and women continue to be viewed as dispensable, replaceable, recyclable commodities, the Binabais and Paromitas in our midst will have to go to war on their own and pray for fair play or suffer wordlessly and wait for some sort of redemption in this lifetime… or the next one. Whichever way…. it’s a long, long wait and an endless journey with just a glimmer of light at the end of a very dark and narrow tunnel.

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The real meaning of 'Adarsh'....

I spent three days in Delhi and am still reeling. It truly is another country with an entirely different culture. But what the hell - at least the food is good. Better than in any other Indian city - more varied and definitely more adventurous. I went back to Bengali Market to check on the chaats and am happy to report the papdi chaat was outstanding with generous slivers of adrak and the unique masala that has drawn crowds for over forty years. There was 'gajak' and there was 'petha' too.... and sarson da saag with makki di roti. But I was with my health freak daughter Anandita who refused to let me gorge. Both of us enjoyed lunch at the smart and casual Smokehouse Deli , where we were amused to see dozens of Ladies- who- lunch, wearing knee high boots, furs, hats... like they were braving an astonishingly chilly winter in Paris! The dinner menu at the Oberoi Maiden's in Old Delhi was charmingly purana era - perhaps the proximity to the Purana Qila rubbed off on the chefs. The sushi at 360 Degrees ( considered Delhi's premier venue for power lunches) was soggy and disappointing, but the very pricey black cod made up for it.

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Here's my take on the scum behind the scam....

What does ‘Adarsh’ really mean?

Around seven years ago, when my two older children were that much younger, they had to deal with a situation I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemies. It involved a small army of hired goons sent by an unscrupulous builder to oust them from their ancestral home. It was their aged grandmother who had to face this mob by herself as they made themselves comfortable in her living room and asked for the television set to be switched on. They also informed her casually that this was now their home and they were there to stay. She was a lady with remarkable reserves of fortitude and did not panic for a minute , even when these strangers spread out their beddings, opened tiffin boxes and settled in for the night. I was out of the country at the time. There is just so much one can achieve over frantic telephone calls to the local police station, the municipal guys of that ward, the MLA or the M.P. elected to represent the interests of his constituency. It was evident from the buck passing and evasive responses I encountered that almost everyone was deep in it – on the take - in one way or the other Those desperately traumatic 48 hours of the children being bull dozed and threatened by the builder and asked to vacate or else, shall never be forgotten . Does this story have a happy ending? Ummm. Not really. Left with few options, the family had to accept a lousy settlement and move out with dignity. Too much was at stake – especially an old lady’s precarious health. We were advised to fight the goons with goons, and get some influential ‘higher ups’ to intervene. None of that happened, mainly because the builder’s reach went all the way to the top! And a vastly admired heritage property was unceremoniously pulled down to be replaced by an entirely illegal shopping centre with escalators that open out to an overcrowded street in central Mumbai. So many years later, the builder is in trouble for cheating, forgery and deception. Will anything happen to the villain? No chance. Will the hideous shopping complex be demolished? Are you kidding? This is Mumbai. This is where an ‘Adarsh’ happens. With absolute impunity. What’s a crumbling heritage building worth multiple crores that can be arbitrarily vacated, torn down and rebuilt for several more?
Which brings me to ‘Adarsh’ and the current debate about demolishing the notorious structure. Pretty pointless, don’t you think? Demolish it just to show the world ‘action is being taken’? And then what? If ‘Adarsh’ does indeed come crashing down within seconds, using the ‘implosion technique’ ( wow! Aren’t we impressed?), what purpose will it serve other than to create headlines and get our spiffily dressed minister for Environment and Forests to preen some more on camera and pat himself on the back for showing everybody he means business. Frankly, I don’t see the demolition happening (CRZ issues be damned). Not in the near future, perhaps never. There are at least five buildings in the same area that are disputed structures. These have been around for decades – ghostly and abandoned, with no decision in sight. Like ‘Adarsh’ now, Mumbai had a ‘Pratibha’ , too. Another high profile residential tower that became the focus of a nasty battle. ‘Pratibha’ is still there – we have stopped bothering about its future. Just as we’ll forget ‘Adarsh’ after a couple of months. That’s how it goes. ‘Adarsh’ is considered ‘hot’ by the media. It may lose it’s ‘hotness’ quotient if a bigger scam comes up. And as has been pointed out by various legal luminaries, where does this ‘Adarsh’ imbroglio end and another begin? There are hundreds of similar scandals in the city of Mumbai alone. Each time one turns around to gasp at yet another spectacular construction ( Hello! Donald Trump. Welcome to Mumbai)) selling at an astronomical price, the unanswered questions remain the same – who cleared the project? For how much? If one were to probe a little, nearly every new high rise has irregularities galore. Serious lapses that can endanger the lives of occupants. But who bothers with paper work that has no meaning in the first place? Whose signatures are on those files?Surprise! Surprise! Signatures of the very same bureaucrats responsible for okaying ‘Adarsh’ . If today a Lt.Col R.K. Singh is asking why he, a legitimate owner of a flat in Adarsh is being penalized for the wrong doings of others, what response can he expect? This person is paying rent, plus repaying EMIs on the loan he’d taken to buy that precious flat. Can he demand compensation – if so, from whom? If Jairam Ramesh has his way, Singh’s dream home could soon be rubble. Singh had fought the Kargil war in the Drass sector and paid a substantial amount to acquire the flat. As had Commander Rajiv Pilo, who was part of the naval force at Kochi during the 1971 Bangladesh liberation war.His life savings are invested in an ‘Adarsh’ flat.Will he get his money back?
It would appear there are no honest builders left in Mumbai.The food chain in this highly lucrative business is very inclusive – and everybody ‘eats money’ from the lowly clerk to the mighty neta. Land is getting snapped up faster than lingerie at a Victoria’s Secret sale. The shadowy promoters are known to all, but everybody feigns instant amnesia. And God help us, but the CBI has been entrusted with cracking the ‘Adarsh’ case and we know its dismal success rate only too well. If the CBI sleuths are still searching for Aarushi’s killer, do we really expect them to nail those behind the ‘Adarsh’ scandal? Dream on!
‘Adarsh’ should stay. There is rich irony in both its name and continued existence. Let ‘Adarsh’ be converted into a Museum of Corrupt Practices. It could become a tourist attraction . … like the Leaning Tower of Pisa. A towering monument that commemorates national shame. Who knows, it may even make its money back through ticket sales for the venal Babus who built it.
Badhiya hai!!

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Two movies.Two women...

I stayed up late at night watching the Golden Globe Awards - more relevant, powerful and glamourous than even the mighty Oscar's. Now... that's what we call Red Carpet dressing! I don't care what the fashion police say about Halle Berry's outfit looking like a modified negligee. She is a stunner all the way... and remains one even if she chooses sack cloth. Neither Portman's acceptance speech nor the out-of-place red rose on her yummy-mummy gown did it for me - and I adore Natalie . Jolie looked suitably sulky and sultry, but sorry, her green sheeted number did her no justice at all. Oh... am I glad that smug creepo Johnny Depp didn't get an award after two nominations in the Best Actor category???
In India, the film awards season has begun - no surprises here, whatsoever. Full 'setting' evident. All the Awards' ceremonies look the same, so do the awardees. As for the comical dress code for Red Carpet photo-ops, come on you Bollywood beauties - most of you are hotter and better looking than your Hollywood counterparts. Get it right!!!
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This appeared today in Bombay Times...

Two movies. Two women.

Okay, this is going to sound insane : I watched two movies virtually back-to-back and came away thinking they weren’t all that different after all. The first was Ananth Mahadevan’s tour de force , ‘ Mee Sindhutai Sapkal’, and the other – don’t laugh – Alankrita Shrivastava’s ‘Turning 30’. It’s not just the fact that both films are strongly, unambiguously and powerfully woman-centric. It is what they are saying about their protagonists – one, a living legend who runs orphanages for abandoned children at Hadapsar, the other a fictional character named Naina, whose only ‘cause’ is herself! But the manner in which the respective film makers have portrayed their heroines, sans false sentimentality, speaks a lot about the directors and their choice of subjects. Sindhutai’s story is brutal, almost unbelievable, but like Mahadevan said during an interaction with viewers at the private screening, “ Her life is indeed like a film script – so exaggerated, it demanded to be made.” This remarkable lady’s survival itself is nothing short of a miracle.After being thrown out of her husband’s home ( various complicated reasons) with a newborn infant to look after, she managed to stay alive – just about – till one fine day she discovered the inner tigress in her, and took on a corrupt system which had cheated and oppressed the abjectly poor Adivasi (her tribe) wood cutters for years. After that turning point, there is no looking back for the ‘reborn’ Sindhutai ( she rechristens herself after the name of her favourite river). The first half of the film is relentlessly grim , particularly the scene in which Sindhutai gives birth to her baby girl in a cow shed. Her humiliation at the hands of everyone, including her own mother, as she struggles to vindicate herself, are so moving, one wonders at the steel within that kept her going, till she finally emerged as a larger than life personality who continues to protect unwanted kids and is adored and admired by thousands . Today Sindhutai is a hot ticket on the international speaker’s circuit ( she charges a fat fee and jokes she only gives ‘Bhashan for ration’), loved and lauded by people who have made her into a big enough folk hero for someone to alert Oprhah Winfrey about her.
Gul Panang’s Naina is a pretty wounded creature too… she is told by friends that the only way to get over a man is to find another one, cut her hair , wear a red dress and stilletoes. Easy! Nobody understands her emotional turmoil and sense of rejection, not even her mother. ‘Turning 30’ is a brave film that attempts to capture the anxiety of an entire generation of very insecure urban women whose sole objective in life is to bag a husband. Frightening but true. Their worst fears have to do with being left on the shelf as ‘rejects’ – in one really funny scene a knowing masseuse offers Naina a ‘pussy pamperer’. While Naina’s self- obsessive angst and those annoying rants against a steady boyfriend who abruptly dumps her on the eve of her 30th birthday cannot possibly be compared to Sindhutai’s torture at the hands of her nasty husband, the initial low self esteem issues are the same, as are the feelings of being unwanted. Both the women discover their own strengths through unfair and adverse circumstances and are seen as victors in the end. ‘Turning 30’ loses its way somewhere by bringing in unconnected tracks ( a lesbian love affair that sours), but boldly ventures into fresh terrain ( male strippers at a bridal shower, women ‘using’ men as sex toys, an obsession with risqué lingerie). The ladies smoke, drink, cuss and fornicate with delicious abandon – all of it guilt-free. And yes, Gul Panag is a great kisser.Now, if only the director had left out those gauche, painful monologues! A thumbs up to both films from me!
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All I know about colonial furniture is thanks to the hours I used to spend with a kind and wonderful man called Mahendra Doshi , who passed away last year. But…. it was as if he was right there, supervising every tiny detail at the magnificently mounted ‘Tribute’ which is on display at the Museum. It was like walking into his tasteful living room and expecting to find Mahendrabhai on a stuffed sofa ,talking languorously about the champak blooming in the garden outside his Walkeshwar terrace. If you haven’t caught the exhibition so far… I urge you to do so. Lovingly restored and beautifully arranged, it is the best compliment to Mahendrabhai’s aesthetics and passion.

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Happy Makar Sankrant!
I woke up to find new blooms on the tuberoses... and a pale orange hibiscus shyly blossoming. I also spotted my beautiful golden oriole on the jungli jamun tree. Yup. It's Spring! The birds, flowers and bees know it. And they are celebrating! Shouldn't we....??

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D-Day.... rather, make that M-Day tomorrow morning. It's about participation.... not winning some race. Fellow feeling scores over medals. I'm all set - so are my girls, Arundhati and Anandita.

This appeared today in the Asian Age \ Deccan Chronicle....



Mumbai does give a f***…..really!

It’s official: Mumbai is right up there alongside international cities with heart.You just wait and watch the show tomorrow! I am talking about the Mumbai Marathon, which over the past seven years has grown into a robust property that does the city proud. ‘Run Mumbai Run’ will be the most heard chant on Sunday morning as thousands of enthusiasts take over the city and make a run for it! I shall be one of those mad people - creaky knees, pounding heart,painful corns and all. Why do I do it?Read on.I actively look forward to subjecting myself to this annual ritual\torture because it’s worth it. Simple.But much beyond the unbeatable thrill of pounding those roads with other Mumbaikars ( for that one, manic, magical morning, every person becomes a Mumbaikar) there is some other, hard to describe prod. I think I got my asli answer at a press conference on Thursday. The focus was on the philanthropy angle of this strenuous exercise that has now become one of the hottest marketing properties in Asia. One of my co-panelists (ex-banker Sunil Rawlani), broke down at one point when he was asked about his own involvement as a prominent donor . He said the seminal moment came most unexpectedly one day as his car stopped at a traffic light and a young girl, no higher than the car window tapped on the glass and asked for alms. He ignored her ( as most of us do) hoping she’d go away. But she was a pretty persistent kid. Soon, seeing that she wasn’t going to get anything out of the guy, she started to doodle on the thick layer of dust covering his window. And what did this child of Mumbai’s mean streets draw? Take a guess… go on. What would a homeless street child’s ultimate fantasy be? A roof over her head, of course! She drew a house! Sunil turned his head idly to check whether the ‘pest’ was still there… yes, she was. But her entire concentration was on drawing a tiny house on a rich man’s dusty car window! He found himself in tears… from that day on, an entirely new spiritual quest took over his life… a quest that continues to this day. He decided to work for underprivileged children and touch as many lives as possible in the most meaningful way. He picked his cause well – he picked CHILDLINE . What a coincidence. It was exactly the same NGO I’ll be running for, and have been running for over the past few years. In my case, CHILDLINE picked me! And I am so grateful.
We keep reading tiresome homilies on ‘corporate governance’ and ‘giving back to society’ We shrug and move on.Yaaawwn! Who needs those over- used clichés? In reality, we are desperately looking for Indian equivalents of Warren Buffet and Bill Gates, as if being anyone or anything less than these two global Charity Champions is a major crime. We talk about desi corporate honchos and local industrialists being kanjoos… not doing enough for the poor. We feel ashamed of our billionaires and try to send them on guilt trips for not dishing out enough dosh for the needy. Really, we should put an end to this nonsense. The act of giving is an intensely private matter and we should stop all the huffing and puffing about our rich being callous. Let’s get off their backs and ask ourselves what we are doing in our individual capacities? Not everybody can be an Azim Premji and stun the world with mega scale philanthropy .Not every tycoon can follow such an example and part with wealth as effortlessly. I am no apologist for our fat cats… but come on guys, our billionaires are not entirely heartless. They have their own ways of sharing wealth…ways that are not obvious or that they may not wish to publicise. Let’s not insult them by insisting on grand public gestures. Giving is in every Indian’s dna. Our shastras emphasise that ‘daan’ is a vital component of self realization and moksh. Every religion in the world stresses on charity as a means to redemption. Our Big Boys and Big Girls are doing their bit – I assure you. Getting corporates to part with money in the old days used to be a pretty humiliating experience. Today, they see it as an opportunity to pump up their own images and do some good as well. I used to abhor making those ‘It’s time to open your purse strings, folks’ calls and was certain I’d lose the few friends I had and be declared a persona non-grata in the city. Imagine my delight these days - I have people calling to ask, “How can we contribute?” This is a major shift. It shows our attitude towards supporting worthwhile initiatives has changed significantly. They say, the more you run, the better you feel. Combine that with - the more you give, the mellower you become - and it’s a win-win situation for all.Mumbai needs a makeover desperately. She is like an item girl who requires another ‘hit and hot’ song to get those eyeballs. The Mumbai Marathon provides just such an opportunity….and Mumbai ki jawaani gets a fresh boost as thousands of energetic runners cross the Worli Bandra Sealink in search of that magical ‘aha’ moment at the finishing line in front of the historic CST.
‘Bhago Mumbai Bhago’ is one ‘naara’ that gets our people going like no other. I don’t mind sounding silly and smarmy boasting like this but Mumbaikars are a special breed. Nothing keeps us down… nothing can, nothing will. Somehow, the Mumbai Marathon encapsulates this indomitable spirit in the most electrifying way. Soon after the 26\11 Terror Attacks, the organizers of the marathon weren’t sure how Mumbaikars would respond. Would they stay away, too scared to emerge on a Sunday and risk another attack ? Not a chance! The show had to go on… and did.
Take that, you guys! While Mumbai… errr…. gives!!!

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