There's a book in everyone....

These are a few more images from Barcelona. No explanations needed, I guess. That glittering sculpture in a balcony is so eye- catching, I couldn't resist clicking it...

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This appeared in Bombay Times on monday....



Not everybody can be an Amitav Ghosh, but a book does indeed lurk inside each person.Book readings of super celebrity authors can either go horribly wrong, or wonderfully right. Fortunately, Amitav Ghosh managed to pull off a sublime evening when he read from his latest novel ‘River of Smoke’ ( part of the ‘ Ibis’ trilogy). For one, he reads well (Vikram Seth is another author who makes his characters come alive at readings). This is a special skill and not many authors possess it. Mainly because most authors are writers not performers. Given the choice, most would prefer the relative anonymity of letting readers decide whether or not they like the book rather than participating in elaborate road shows where they are reduced to becoming performing fleas. But in today’s tougher, more competitive times it’s not enough for a writer to do his\her job of producing a book. It is obligatory to promote it. It’s relief to his publishers that Amitav wears his talent lightly and goes about the exhausting business of public readings and signings with patience and grace. It says a lot about his professionalism. Not only is Ghosh a top rung writer with a vast global following, but he is also one of the hand picked contemporary writers whose name crops up as a contender for the prestigious Nobel. But unlike some particularly aggressive self- promoters with far less substance, Ghosh remains disarmingly modest and consistently considerate. Since we share the same publisher and publicist, I know how gallantly and charmingly he acknowledges the contributions made by each and every person working behind-the-scenes to make these events a success. Even while responding to tiresome questions from the audience, he does so without once losing either his cool or his shirt. V.S. Naipaul, on the other hand, is notorious for shutting up silly readers with a short and sharp put down. One young girl in Mumbai really asked for it when she raised her hand to enquire in a sing song voice, “Mr. Naipaul… what are your books about? I haven’t read any of them.” He glanced witheringly at her, and with a dismissive wave of his hand announced imperiously, “I refuse to answer such a stupid question. Next!” No, the girl didn’t dig a hole and disappear into it – she giggled.
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I genuinely believe there is a book in every person. Maybe even two or three. Some people choose to write it, most don’t. That’s the only difference. Going by the questions Amitav took last week, it did sound as if there were several potential novelists in the audience, looking for tips from the master. Unlike Naipaul, Amitav listened attentively to each question and replied with sincerity. The terrific thing about the evening was that the crowd was made up of hard core fans of the author – people who knew his work intimately and were genuinely interested in the latest one. This was such a refreshing change from the usual suspects who turn up for launches – any and every launch will do – not knowing a damn thing about the chief guest. These are the professional gate crashers who routinely show up at five star venues and hang around the bar, attacking every passing waiter and pouncing greedily on the canapés. They have never bought a book or a painting in their life…. but does that stop them from turning up to scrounge around shamelessly? Naah. This is not just a Mumbai phenomenon, mind you. I have seen similar types in London, New York, Berlin, Singapore, Hong Kong… the list goes on. My favourite memory of Amitav is watching him swat flies during a brief stopover in Patna, while we were on our way to the annual Bhuvaneshwar Book Fest. He was writing furiously throughout the long flight, and getting really bugged by those aggressive flies . Perhaps they’ll feature in his next book?

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Slutwalk, anyone??

This appeared in 'The Week'. It has generated a mixed response. Surprisingly, several well-educated, well-travelled young women feel as strongly as I do about the meaninglessness of it all. What is the primary objective? How does it help the cause of women? If it's just some silly, harmless stunt by a group of young things who 'want to make a difference' - well, whatever it takes, honey. But let's not delude ourselves that Slutwalks will change the world . Or men...
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Slutwalk? No thanks!

Come on, ladies… strut your stuff by all means. But don’t downgrade yourself in the bargain. What is all this rubbish about slutwalking your way to feminist heaven? Get real. Get a life. To start with, these kind of cheap stunts serve no purpose other than to titillate Page 3 paps. Besides, it’s such a ‘me too’, depressingly ‘wannabe’ thing to do. Why not come up with something truly original – like the path- breaking ‘pink chaddi’ campaign? Why react to some dumb Canadian cop’s sexist comment? By doing so, aren’t women the world over giving him unwarranted importance and attention? Seen in our cultural context, the idea of a multi-city Slutwalk is an absolute no-no - even if the intentions behind the move are to shock and awe the men of this country. The only response to such a gimmick is likely to be the exact reverse of what was intended. Men will leer, peer, gawk and lech. It certainly won’t make them stop dead in their tracks to review their mindsets. My main problem with this approach is the actual degradation of women implicit in the word ‘slut’. If we fall for this ruse en masse and start addressing ourselves with such a nasty putdown, chances are not just men but other women too will jump down our throats and say, “The bitch asked for it.”
The power of imagery and words is such. Self-deprecation works in progressive environments. Self-mockery is a potent tool, but only in countries where literacy levels are high enough, and the audience sufficiently educated to know the difference between taunting perpetrators of violence, and playing up to a stereotype. Some of the images of Slutwalks coming in from around the world, look more like send-ups – exhibitionistic chicks flashing their goods for the cameras. When a busty female scrawls a ‘Look, but don’t touch’ message across her ample bosom which is on full view, what is the average joe meant to make of this display? In India, a woman parading in the streets clad in a decollete bra ,will be labeled a ‘besharam aurat’. Her reputation will be in shreds for evermore, and if single, her chances of finding a ‘respectable’ boy will plummet instantly. As for the state of her parents – aiiyyyo – they may be forced to go into permanent hiding. But far more important than such a fallout, it’s the counter productivity of the act that bothers me. Defiance is one thing – and I am all for it. But plain stupidity, quite another. The argument that today’s woman is free to dress as she pleases, get sloshed at bars, use language any which way she chooses … well, in theory, it’s a great argument. Does it work? Naaah. Not even for her – the bold, brave and beautiful one who wants to break rules and conquer prejudice overnight.
There is also the reverse argument which involves mens’ freedoms. Of course, we are used to the sight of men peeing by the roadside in broad daylight, or exposing themselves in public places ( notoriously, on trains). But what if male colleagues in the work place decided to let it all hang out and challenged women not to complain?What about hanging out at a popular bar and finding topless men asserting their right to knock off that damn shirt in the heat? Or if men wore signs on their crotches during a protest rally that warned women to keep off the turf? Imagine a male boss turning up in a bulge-popping pair of skinny jeans on a casual Friday, his shirt buttons undone upto his navel? Trust me, some prissy women would feel offended enough to file a complaint. It goes back to the old , ‘what’s good for the goose…’ theory. Rape and other acts of sexual violence against women ( and men, too…. excuse me!) , must be condemned and fought all the way. But I am just not convinced Slutwalking is the answer to resolve an age old battle. Dressing to provoke a reaction from the opposite sex is as ancient as the hills. It’s all a part of the mating game and existed way before the era of sexual politics came into the picture. Whether it’s a scantily clad woman at a wedding or a man dressed in a cod piece at a formal event, the same rules apply. The definition of appropriate gear is timeless and has nothing to do with changing fashion trends. However, the decision to dress in skimpy attire with little regard for the cultural context, is a matter of individual choice. By all means bare all if that’s what you want. It is your right to dress as you please. But do so and bear the responsibilities and consequences of that decision as well.
Remember, just as there’s no such thing as a free lunch, there’s no free show either!

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The new 'Sush' in town....

Barcelona images! Boats...corridors.... Columbus looking for the new world. Oh... I adore Spain! So much like India, really. Only cleaner..
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This appeared in the Sunday Times today...
I'm leaving for Bangalore and SAP-ing it tomorrow. Should be funnnnnnn!
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Politically Incorrect

The new ‘Sush’ in town…..

She’s the newly crowned Hottie in B-Town. Errr… ‘B’ as in BJP, not Bollywood. She can sing, she can dance. She shakes her booty with the best of them. And she has countless admirers panting for more. Those who were lucky enough to catch her ‘live’ performance at the ‘ashram sthal (Rajghat) have been oohing and aahing over her deft moves – on and off the dance floor. Kya jhatkas. Kya matkas. Wah, Sush, wah! Like any top heroine, she too has been attracting her share of detractors – mainly jealous rivals who cannot keep up with her seemingly inexhaustible stamina, especially during chart busting ‘item’ numbers that are considered so rocking, news-hungry tv channels can’t get enough of them. With each telecast of those amazing ‘thumkas’, her popularity soars along with her unique sex appeal . This surging wave of acceptance and approval is causing serious heart burn within her own production house – the BJP. No matter. As any leading Bollywood producer will tell you, ‘Boss…paisa vasool.’ If something works big time in a movie,it is important to milk it for all its worth and instantly cash in on the craze . This is when the all-important ‘overflow’ takes place. Remember what happened with ‘Munni’ and ‘Sheila’ (but not to ‘Jalebi’)? The mega success of any Bollywood fillum depends on ‘repeat value’. It is when audiences flock back to cinema halls begging for more that the trade exults and distributors dance in the aisles giving laddoos to all. Success on such a scale has to be skillfully leveraged by everybody who has a stake in it – from the producer-director downwards. That is how a cult is created.
Sushma Swaraj has got it. She is ready to flaunt it. Toh – problem kya hai, bhai? As it is, the BJP sounds like a finely shredded cabbage salad ( minus raisins, at that). Propping up a hirsute yoga –master who runs away from his own big bash dressed in drag, is hardly the best image builder for a headless, formless and confused organization. Bringing in an ageing and portly Uma Bharti ( famously referred to as the Sexy Sanyasin in the good old days) doesn’t sound like a particularly inspired marketing plan. Sure, she has her unabashedly RSS credentials to her credit – or discredit. But, she seems like an anachronism – a faded star from another zamana altogether. It’s a little like dragging poor Asha Parekh out of moth balls and expecting her to headline a Bollywood gig. Not happening. Uma is passé and out of it. At 52, she is still fairly jawan in political terms. But after a six year vanvaas, nobody really remembers or cares about this firebrand’s track record. That she had taken on and vanquished many a foe ( including Digvijay Singh), to become the chief minister of Madhya Pradesh in December 2003. Uma seems strangely out of sync with today’s janata. Whereas , a Sushma Swaraj appears a totally cool person – a woman on top. Since the BJP seems to favour heavyweights ( literally), a singing Nitin Gadkari has not found a mass base so far and seems to have antagonized party bosses by shooting off his mouth and speaking out of turn once too often. That leaves dear Narendra Bhai, who is the Coy Superstar, patiently waiting in the wings , for the teaser trailer to release and give audiences a jhalak of the ‘new, improved’ Modi ( hello! He plays golf! Must be a good chap, then!). Despite strenuous attempts to give the guy a make over, the chattering classes continue to be suspicious of Modi, who will never ever live down Godhra, no matter what he says or does. Arun Jaitley? Ummm…. too cerebral and brash. Too Dilli. Too rich. Too snooty. Difficult for someone as elitist to woo the unwashed masses. That leaves Shivraj Singh Chohan and Sanjay Joshi. Manageable. But strictly no star quality.It’s a little like trying to sell a multi-star blockbuster featuring also-rans. Mogambo definitely not khush!
That takes us to our ‘Sush’. But before her grand elevation and re-positioning, she needs to do two things urgently – lose weight. And discard those peculiar jackets she throws over her sarees. What’s with those shapeless ‘bundis’?The rest of her carefully constructed persona works splendidly – that broad strip of sindhoor in the maang, the low nape bun, the undisguisedly coquettish air, her oratorical skills and eloquence, the seductive body language … sab kuch mast hai! Sushma ki Jawaani ( in spirit, if not in age), could be the BJP’s biggest trump card. That is if mandarins put aside petty differences and ego tussles to focus on the party’s survival and future growth. There isn’t much time left. Baba Ramdev’s flop show has not helped matters, either. Then again, if all that the Congress Party can come up with is Rahul Gandhi, where’s the hitch? In any case, the UPA government is not about to create box office records with its recent poor showing in virtually every arena. Poor Manmohan Singh is looking so ‘thekela’, one feels like borrowing all of Amitabh Bachchan’s snazzy props from his forthcoming movie and handing them over to the Singh who is no longer the King ( or even the chief courtier). Perhaps clad in that hip gear, riding a motorcycle and hiding his sad eyes behind the coolest shades, our sweetheart of a prime minister will be able to join Grandpa Bachchan to belt out a duet that goes : ‘Buddha Terra Baap Hoga.

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Intellectual Whores and Bloody Bores...

These are the final goodbyes...
On the 6th of July, the Jehangir Art Gallery in Mumbai is planning a tribute to M.F.Husain. Let us hope and pray it honours his spirit and does away with boring, insincere speechifying by pompous asses who barely understood his genius... or even knew him for the person he was.
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This appears in Hi! Blitz....



Intellectual Whores and Bloody Bores…..

If there’s anything and anyone worse than a bloody bore, it’s an intellectual whore. Puzzled? Okay… tell me you really DON’T recognize the following types : The I.W. s generally hang around at Embassy and Consulate soirees, clad in dreadful kurtas ( both men and women). They have perfected the art of crashing these parties over twenty long years of serious sucking up. That makes them permanent fixtures on lists that rarely get updated, going by the attendance of these cheapo fossils. Some are desperate enough to cultivate each successive social secretary and treat these lower level officers like visiting royalty. It’s the sort of treatment those poor sods are entirely unaccustomed to back home. But of course they revel in the importance so lavishly showered on them by these moochers. The only reason for the heavy-duty spongers to turn up night after night at these events is for the free booze and food. Some have become experts at figuring out menus and alcohol brands on offer from host to host. They turn up their noses at parties hosted by the old East European block of kadka Commies who continue to serve cheap vodka and stale sausages. They flock to German evenings for the superior beer and better sausages. The Brits are broke these days and such are the lean times they’re facing, even a toast at Queen Lizzie’s birthday dinners is raised with local, lukewarm champagne. No matter. The idea is to go scrounging around for whatever’s on offer… and bore the hell out of everyone present.

Mumbai’s I.W. s fall into another category altogether. They prey on corporate types. They love Bankers the most because those guys have amazing expense accounts, plus entertainment budgets and serve rare single malts at their do’s. The Mumbai I.W. loves to name drop – in the old days it used to be the names of famous artists like M.F.Husain. Now, it’s strictly Bollywood. But since the fake ‘intellectual’ tag has to be lived up to, the I.W. throws in social issues and municipal matters to demonstrate the existence of a conscience. Armchair activism gains a few extra points if the person can confidently ‘lagao’ something vague about a meeting with the chief minister. If there’s an arty, museum connection somewhere, that’s still better. A few mentions of an obscure Biennale generally impress the ignorant. All this ‘haw haw’ talk is interspersed with heavy duty bragging, generally about Delhi connections – Ministry of Culture, Sheila Dixit or Montek Singh. The last two names interest the tight ass Bankers present and ensures another round of a 21-year-old Single Malt. Net -working being the name of the social game ( does nobody meet just for the pleasure of spending a pleasant evening together , anymore?), it is vital to use nick names known to the inner circle and then exchange knowing looks with those who ‘get it’. Woe betides those who don’t! Social death guaranteed. Then comes the worst part – asking for favours. These can include anything from a trip to a foreign destination ( with companion), to an out-of-turn allotment for something significant ( car, apartment, land). The modus operandi remains the same in both cities. The I.W. stands in a prominent, well lit corner and starts sounding off on the controversy of the day ( Radia, Amar Singh, Lalit Modi). Insider gossip ( rubbish! It’s mostly recycled junk) is traded with a small group over several rounds of whatever is going – after the third drink nobody knows, counts or cares.
The Arty Whores are a breed apart. Their sole purpose in life is to confuse and confound those who may be genuinely interested in understanding art. Their prose is dense, almost impenetrable. They spout dated clichés about assorted European ‘movements’. Their pens and the artists’ paint brushes they represent, are both for sale. Reviews have no validity, nor do their pseudo-intellectual ramblings in pricey catalogues ( they charge a whack for writing those dreary, ponderous pieces). You can spot the pompous creeps at art openings, hanging around looking for – you’ve guessed it – free booze. Once sufficiently tanked up, supremely annoying, mostly inaccurate arty gossip takes over – which canvas sold for how much at the Christie’s auction. Which painter is on the make and doing which young, hot art dealer. How art prices are being manipulated by the art sharks… and isn’t it terrible what that art bully did with the attractive newbies participating in his art camp!!
What do we do with these bores and whores?
Jettison them, of course! Uno dos , tres… and out you go!

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London and Barcelona images.

This was the church I admired in the dying light of a cool London evening, just after saying goodbye to Husainsaab in his hospital room. It will always have a special memory since I sent up a prayer for him at that moment. A prayer that went sadly unanswered.
I had just left the LCC ( London College of Communication), where my daughter is seeking admission. This was the spectacular view from the large window in the airy office of one of the Directors... you can spot the London Eye in the far distance.... just beyond the storm clouds that were fast gathering.
Beautiful Barcelona looks stunning from any angle. This narrow street leads up to the famous Picasso Museum, where we spent several enchanted hours. I particularly enjoyed Picasso's tribute to El Greco. And yes, just as we left the gates, we witnessed a knife fight in this very street!
And that's the W Hotel, seen from the cable car. I was hot and bothered and not in the mood to take pictures ( an hour long wait for a measly 10 minute ride), but the W looked pretty interesting from this height. Reminded me of the Burj Al Arab in Dubai.
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Guys.... just say the word.... I have more where these came from, okay???

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Mubarak ho! Bollywood's Bahurani is in the family way! Great news. A rather puzzled foreigner asked me sweetly, " Is it traditional in Indian society for a father-in-law and not the husband to make such an announcement? Is it a part of the customs of a patriarchal society ?" I really didn't have the answer. But if any of you guys do.... enlighten the rest, please!

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Kuch Love Jaisaa??

This appeared in The Week...

It’s an old, old story… but like any worthy classic, it never dates. Whether it is Satyajit Ray’s ‘Charulata’ or the more recent Shefali Shah interpretation in ‘Kuchch Luv Jaisaa’, the married-but-bored housewife continues to fascinate us. When I wrote ‘Socialite Evenings’ ( my first book) twenty-five years ago, I was savaged by critics ( hello! So what else is new?), mainly because Karuna, my protagonist, walks out of a marriage that is boring. BORING! Not abusive, not cruel, not oppressive. I believed then, as I do now, boredom is a perfectly legitimate reason to end a relationship. Terminal boredom, that is. Not to be confused with ‘boring phases’ which most marriages go through. But imagine the tedium involved in spending the best years of ones life with a person who is dull, uninspiring and plain ‘duh’. Better to invest even five short years in an individual who hits the right spots and makes you feel vibrantly, gloriously alive. During my short stay in Bhutan recently ( I was there to attend ‘Mountain Echoes’, a real gem of a lit fest), I met a local lady who clearly believes in living life Queen size. And why not? She is entitled to it! Beautiful, privileged, influential and adventurous, this gorgeous gal has been married four times and is a Glam Granny to boot. She admitted candidly ( minus prodding) that the only reason she kept up the quest for a suitable husband in that tiny mountain kingdom was to keep boredom at bay! There was absolutely nothing for young people to do in the old days – no movies, no television, no internet, no restaurants, no bars, no airport… you get the picture. How was a restless, educated and exceedingly beautiful young woman supposed to keep herself busy all day? Dating was not an option ( Bhutanese society continues to be very conservative… almost medieval). Her only escape route and diversion lay in marriage. But hear this - all her ex- husbands remain good friends. She hosted a dinner for three of them last month, and it turned out to be great fun for all, she giggled. Why not? She is an upfront, engaging personality who now travels the world promoting causes dear to her heart. Bhutanese society has obviously made its peace with their most prominent socialite, going by the response to her.
Interestingly enough, our first encounter was an impromptu one in the buzzed bar of the wonderful Taj Tashi where I was staying. I noticed an attractive woman who was holding her own effortlessly with a group of six, fairly inebriated men. She came to my table , introduced herself and asked me to join them. I did so briefly, since I found her personality bewitching and electrifying in that strange setting. I discovered those rowdy, happy fellows lustily belting out Elvis Presley hits, were generals in the army and other high ranking officials. I still didn’t know her identity but was sufficiently intrigued to ask around. When she invited me to lunch a couple of days later, I promptly accepted. There was a story in there… a good one!
I was not disappointed. She is a special person – energetic, uninhibited, bohemian and what the Brits would call a ‘good egg’. She described herself as a bitch, qualifying quickly, “… but a good bitch.” I knew exactly what she meant. Women like her are so easy to slot and damn. She means no harm to anyone. And yet, her alluring presence does attract flak – a great deal of it. We discussed boredom as being the single most under rated cause cited in modern divorce. We both felt it should be right up there, with adultery and insanity. It is equally potent! Nothing can destroy a relationship as swiftly as the realization that the person you are married to, is a bloody bore, after all. Boredom cannot be salvaged or ‘cured’. Marriage counselors cannot talk a partner out of being boring. It is a condition – like diabetes. But unlike diabetes which can be managed through a sensible diet and medication, what does one do with boredom? Ummm… very little. Shut up and put up?
More and more women are refusing to either shut up or put up. It’s simply not worth it. Those who can move on, are doing just that. Leaving several rather bewildered men behind. Men who ask themselves what they’d done wrong to deserve such a fate. Now that’s a seriously boring question! Sorry… but if it has to be asked, the woman is perfectly justified in dumping the guy. Modern marriages are cruel, indeed. Better that, than deathly dull relationships frozen in aspic.

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Hum Sab Jaanwar Hain....

This appeared in Bombay Times today....

Hum Sab Janwar Hain…

While the headline of this column is technically accurate, it takes powerful images of wild animals in their natural habitat to drive home the point that those lucky creatures are far better off in the jungle than most of us living in so-called ‘civilised’ urban spaces . A fact that was driven home ( in vivid 3-D , at that) when Nita and Mukesh Ambani hosted a reception to showcase the impressive work of their close friend, eminent psychiatrist Dr.Rajesh Parikh, at ‘Antila’. I was told by a very proud T.P. Pandey ( the man behind the superb 3-D prints) that this was the first such exhibition in the world! Pandey, who heads Taco Visions, is the winner of the gold, silver and bronze medals at the prestigious annual awards for printing held in Philadelphia.That is some feat, given the fact there are just five top awards to be won each year. The best part of the evening was the charming, extempore speech made by Dr.Parikh, in which he confessed he had become something of a pain in the butt for family members accompanying him on his regular jaunts to Africa. “Had I been Bono or Madonna, I could have said, ‘ I love you, Africa,’ and left it at that….” before going on to quote from Vivekananda and pointing out that Africa was indeed the cradle of civilization and every human being on earth can trace his or her ancestry to that vast and beguiling continent. He added with a final flourish, “After going back to the same game resorts more than twenty five times, Mukesh pretty much knows most of the animals. He says, ‘last year, we’d seen this lion at that spot. So, I say to him, ‘maybe the lions know you, too. After all, there are twenty lions in that park, but there’s only one Mukesh Ambani’.” Taalis.Taalis.
I have picked my favourite image from this show ( a few years ago I had grabbed a close- up of the beautiful saffron flower shot by Dr.Parikh in the Kashmir Valley). This time I fell for a picture of a female elephant fiercely protecting her young one. She looked ready to charge at the man ( Rajesh!), intruding her space. He smiled, “One has to stand very still when that happens. If a person turns around and starts to run, she will chase you. The trick is to engage but not threaten.” Pretty much like it should be in our world but rarely is. Stand your ground. Send out a message that you mean business. But don’t get into an ugly confrontation that could crush you. Aah well, the wisdom of animals far exceeds that of human beings. Perhaps this sort of an exhibition only helps to underline the fact. And yes, another ace lensman , Uddhav Thackeray was around taking a keen interest in the well-mounted show ( take a bow, Kaushik Roy). His own, recently published book on Vithoba also features some extraordinary images of Warkaris (pilgrims) congregating in the small town of Pandharpur. I mentioned the book should also be published in English and other regional languages. “But how does one translate ‘abhangs’?” wondered Uddhav. To which his son Aditya quickly replied, “If Rumi can be translated, so can these ‘abhangs’.” Maharashtra’s youth leader is obviously ready for the job!
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J Dey’s murder may require deeper investigation than merely rounding up the usual suspects. But the point is : do the authorities genuinely want to get to the bottom of this? Does anybody really want to hear the truth? Or is it just far easier to palm it off as another underworld hit? J Dey has taken countless secrets to his grave. Secrets , that would have compromised the careers of several top dogs in government and politics. Those jobs are safe. For now. But truth does have a rather nasty way of coming out and surprising the unwary. The guilty had better watch out!

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