Mole and grasshoppers...

For those amigos who are wondering why I don't like Mexican cuisine, here's the answer: yesterday, I was invited to the estate of a refined couple ( the host, a lawyer, may run for President ), and fed local delicacies that included fried grasshoppers and crumbled pig's skin! Okay, the cactus I could handle.... it tasted like portobello mushrooms... but the rest??? The mole sauce was outstanding... poured over the chicken in abundance. I got the house recipe for it, from our beautiful hostess ( a former dancer). Five kinds of chillies, almonds and chocolate, of course.
Mexico had just started to grow on me, when it was time to pack our bags and say adios to our newly made Mexican buddies, who raised the perfect toast when they declared, " To old friends... and new family." Mexico City was worse than Mumbai.... but my God, the museums ( Frida Kahlo!) and the pyramids just an hour away, made up for the madness of the metropolis. Unlike Mumbai, where people do tend to be indifferent to strangers, the Mexicans were consistently friendly and most welcoming.... especially when they found out we were from India. But sorry... the food just isn't for me. And it is NOT the Tex-Mex rubbish the world associates with Mexican cuisine. It was also good to learn first- hand just how passionately patriotic Mexicans are. That explains their love-hate relationship with America. And their intense dislike for Spaniards. Viva Zapata, lives!
Well.... am off to Brussels. The place with the prettiest square in Europe, and the best chocolates on earth. More from Bruge and Antwerp in my next post... whenever that is.
Keep the comments coming. I read every single one of them. And respond to a few personally...

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More Mexico...

Blame it on Rio, is old hat. Let me blame Mexico City. Nothing all that wrong about it, per se. The people I have met are warm and friendly. The uni-brow a la Frida Kahlo is either very in, or the women here naturally sport it... and moustaches. The people resemble our Goans. Some men look Japanese. And everybody dresses horribly. I´m being horribly mean. But if I am serenaded by one more Mariachi band, I shall swear off tamarind tequilas forever. Those, by the way, were exceptionally good at the Villa Maria, last night. Today, we have done the whole enchillada - including the magnificent pyramids. Miguel, our guide, turned out to be a diehard Aishwarya Rai fan, and nearly wept when I told him she was not just shaadi shuddha, but maa bannewalli hai. Of course, I am overwhelmed.... come on..... those pyramids are awe inspiring, okay. But I was also wickedly relieved to notice the sprawling slums spread across the hills. Huge enough to make Dharavi look like a speck. Ah well, the Mexican peso is four times stronger than our ruppee.... theek hai. But they also have their beggars and robbers. Tomorrow is reserved for heavy duty museum visits. Am getting my sombrero spruced up. Till then , adios BlogAmigos. I am missing Mumbai desperately.... and sorry, tacos cannot possibly compete with bhajiyas.

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Mexico and Mumbai...

I have to say this. Mumbai and Mexico City are like twins separated at birth. So terrifyingly similar. I felt right at home the minute we landed and I almost spoke Marathi to the immigration officer who greeted us with a friendly namastey.One we got out of the super efficient airport, the madness began in real earnest as we drove into town with a crazed driver trying to beat the insane traffic. For a city of 20 million, there are 60,000 cabs on the road. It is suitably filthy, polluted, overcrowded and delirious. But the locals are wonderful. And their hips definitely don't lie. Thank you for that memorable line,Shakira. Salma Hayek doesn't live here anymore, but everybody is so proud of Mexico's best export . The food so far has been awful. Plus, we are mid-monsoon here.... I really should have stayed in amchi Mumbai.... what´s the big difference. We have been warned that this is one of the world's most dangerous destinations. I shall give you a detailed report tomorrow - provided I am not mugged, raped, kidnapped or killed tonight.
New York was not half as electrifying as it used to be. Or I am more blase. But hello.... not blase enough not to behave like a starstruck fan when Beyonce bounced into the hippest venue in town - the incomparable Standard Hotel , in the meat packing district. Despite her 8-feet tall bodyguards, she still managed to meet fans and pose for the waiting paparazzi. Yes, she is dazzling. And her star power makes her RADIATE.... OOOOOF.Too much wattage... but then she isn't the most successful entertainer on earth right now for nothing. I also rushed to catch Brooke Shields as Morticia in the Addams Family... but, I have to say this, she was listless, disinterested and not worth the big ticket prices. Brooke can't dance, sing, or act. Come back Anjelica Huston.You and only you are the real Morticia. Aaaaah... at least the magic of Broadway still works. Chalo, Big Apple may kuch toh baaki bachcha hai....

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Bye Chicago. Hello New York!

Bye Chicago! Hello New York!!!

Blogdosts, it has been an exhilerating few days in what my daughter Arundhati tells me is called ' Chi Town'. It was my first time - and what a revelation it turned out to be. Nothing really prepares you for the stunning architecture - no wonder so many Hollywood movies are shot here. I felt like I was on a movie set, or in Gotham City! Combine that overwhelming feeling with meeting over 4,000 co-Maharashtrians in one go at the BMM convention! Let's call it a double whammy. I wasn't sure whether or not I'd feel swamped surrounded by so many Marathis , after being somewhat isolated from my own precious roots for so long! But guess what? I felt like I was in a warm and wonderful embrace... I experienced so much genuine love from total strangers! My own presentation was titled 'From Nauwarri to Armani' - the Maharshtrian women has come a long way! And indeed she has!! I met exceptional women like the dynamic Senator from Iowa, Swati Dandekar, who is someone you really don't want to mess with - the lady means business! The other invitees from Mumbai, apart from moi, were Shreyas Talpade, whose interaction with a huge and very supportive crowd was brilliant - spot on, spontaneous and entertaining, and Omi Vaidya. I watched an hour long documentary on Omi but couldn't stay for his session. Much as I loved him in '3 Idiots', this funny but self indulgent effort was 40 mins too long... more appropriate for his family and friends, as a fun road movie about Omi getting his break in Bollywood. Let me save the best for last - it was Ashok Hande's incredible dance show, which deserves to be on Broadway. Yup, it's that outstanding as a production, with the most energetic dancing and music, that leaves viewers breathless! And to think, his day job is that of a fruit vendor!! What an astonishing success story! As for his star Lavni dancer, she sizzles more than Munni, Jalebi, Sheila and the lot put together! Would love to know her name. She is a major phataka.... a real theekhi mirchi. Who wouldn't want to play Holi with this lady in that sexy blue choli???

Now.... before I miss my flight to New York, I'd better run. FAST!!!

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Guys... here it is. Let's start our own version, right here, right now!! Please answer the same questions - HONESTLY - and post them!!
I am off tonight. Like I said, It's going to be a longish trip. I'll be travelling forever tonight. But I'll catch you again from Chicago. Till then, adios amigos ( errrr.... hangover from 'Zindagi.....").

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Shobhaa De
THE PROUST QUESTIONNAIRE – VERSION 1

What is your idea of happiness?
It varies from day to day. Rainbows make me very happy. I am an absolute sucker for mushy, melodramatic films. Baby smells! I can’t get enough of my grand- daughter Anasuya Devi and her combined smells – a bit of puke, baby cologne, spit, poo… all of it. Just the thought of being at a great bar in a great city with a great person making great conversation… yeah… that definitely does it for me. So does red lipstick.
What is your greatest fear?
Losing control. Mainly over my mind. Being dependent… helpless. Being terminally bored. Being STUCK – mentally, emotionally, physically. The overwhelming desire to flee from tiresome situations and people… and there are so many of both. How far can I possibly run??
Which historical figure do you most identify with?
Napoleon. What a man! What courage. What a life. He should have married Desiree, his first and only love. History would have been different… no Waterloo! Moral of the story : listen to your heart… and save your ass.
Which living person do you most admire?
Binayak Sen. Cerebral. Courageous. Committed. And sexy. Now, if he’d only get on with the damn revolution!
What is the trait you most deplore in yourself?
Impatience. I get easily bored and restless. And I am extraordinarily poor at camouflaging my feelings…. this gets me into big trouble. Oh… I am numbers challenged, can’t count… this can be most embarrassing when calculating tips and taxi fares. My inability to fake it – whatever that ‘it’ is. Dirty bathrooms phobia – there’s got to be a name for this!
What is the trait you most deplore in others?
Lack of civility and grace. Boorishness. Vanity. Self-obsession. Crude and coarse behaviour. Pompousness. People who yell at waiters and ask that most annoying question : “Don’t you know who I am?” I’m always tempted to step in and say very loudly, “We all know who you are – the world’s biggest ass****.”
What is your greatest extravagance?
Travel. Taking time off from writing. I am a workaholic… holidays are precious and treated like guilty pleasures. But I have still to teach myself to switch off completely… I’m always on the job…. taking notes, scribbling observations… I often say to myself angrily, “Get over it, De. Get a life!”
What is your favourite journey?
Into an interesting person’s head and heart. Find me that interesting person!!
Who is your favourite painter?
M.F. Husain, by far. Picasso and Freida Kahlo are top favourites. But Husainsaab is above and beyond them all… simply put, I was privileged to have known a genius. To have watched him at work and play for forty years. What a rare human being… so full of contradictions – arrogant and compassionate. Impossible and considerate. But never ever BORING!!!!
What do you consider the most overrated virtue?
Patience! Why lose time over something that does not captivate your imagination instantly? Nothing really comes to those who stand and wait… don’t fall for that line ever! Just go grab whatever you desperately desire …. Before someone else beats you to it.
On what occasion do you lie?
When the truth really doesn’t matter all that much. And I can spare someone’s feelings in the bargain.
What do you dislike most about your appearance?
Ummmm…. let me put it this way – I have really nice ears. The nape of my neck isn’t bad either. Both remain hidden from view, so I can safely boast!
Which living person do you most despise?
All godmen and godwomen. At the moment, Baba Ramdev.
Which words or phrases do you most overuse?
No kidding! Goddammit! Are you sure??? Seriously speaking. On the contrary. Go to hell! Hello darling! Devaa Devaa!!!!
What is your greatest regret?
That I didn’t take tango lessons in my youth – preferably in Argentina. That I haven’t met Antonio Banderas. That I am not Woody Allen.
What or who is the greatest love of your life?
Words. My family and our pet Kiara. The moon. Gulmohurs. The heady fragrance of jasmine garlands.
When and where were you happiest?
Whenever my mother cradled me and placed my head in her lap, gently stroking my hair and forehead.
What is your present state of mind?
Restless. Of course. But restless-happy, as opposed to restless-frustrated.
How would you like to die?
Beautifully… dramatically… with a pen in my hand…. a smile on my lips… Smelling of ‘Arpege’….wearing red lipstick and high heels.
What is your favourite motto?
Don’t let the music stop… dance on!
And the Benjamin Franklin quote : Either write something worth reading, or do something worth writing.

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Salaam Mumbaikars!

It has been one hell of a day... more visitors in four short hours than during the past four months!! But since all of them were interesting in their own way, I am not complaining! My only regret is that I couldn't hang with Anasuya Devi, my grand daughter, when she arrived in style ( colour co-ordinated down to the clips in her hair). Nor could I pay close attention to the beautiful chest of drawers delivered by Ahemedali , since Anandita's piano teacher was around, along with three super journos from Lokmat. We are planning a bumper Diwali issue for Lokmat, and it was an intense brain storming session that threw up some terrific ideas. Now to get down to work...and execute them. I looked for the PROUST QUESTIONNAIRE that I had responded to in The Hindu last week. But I hit the wrong key and it 's temporarily lost. I shall post it once I retrieve it. Meanwhile... I am leaving for a longish period , starting tomorrow night. I have the iPad for company.... and I do plan to blog from wherever I am. But not as frequently. My loss!!
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I swear this is true but I ran into a PYT who wanted to know whether Anna Hazare was a fashion designer. She pronounced it differently, of course... 'Anna' as in Kournikova!!!

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This appeared in Bombay Times today....

Who makes a city? It’s people, right?Take a bow,Mumbaikars.Let the world learn from Mumbai’s extraordinary people what it means to keep going despite the odds. Let’s face it, this time our blinkers are off. We’ve stopped kidding ourselves.We get it! Nobody really gives a damn about us. Nobody cares whether we live or die. It’s come to a point where even we have tuned out in a strange way… turned ridiculously fatalistic ,and resigned ourselves to living a life that comes minus a guarantee card.The message is clear: Mumbai has been taken for a royal ride…. sold down the tube.Deal with it. And here we were, like eager kids, waiting for Big Daddy to come and save us. Hallelujah! When was the last time anybody bothered about Mumbai’s ‘haalat’? So, it’s just as well this lunatic city carries on like nothing major happened on 13 \7. What are a few bombs here and there? R.R.Patil’s words came back to haunt me ( “Bade bade sheheron mein…”). During 9\11 Patil had become the villain of the tragedy for no reason! After all, he had merely articulated what the rest of his neta pals also felt. The others camouflaged their sentiments better, that’s all. So, it’s only fair that this time, Mumbaikars responded the way they did – those who felt shaken and stirred, went flat out to extend help to strangers. Others, shrugged and carried on like nothing had happened. While some cribbed about movie shows being cancelled and a few restaurants pulling down shutters “unnecessarily,” others put up their feet and phoned for an extra dvd or two. Terror attacks have become ‘routine’. We no longer look for logic or a reason for them. We’ve even stopped caring why they happen. And why they happen to Mumbai and not any other city. We can also laugh when the Prime Minister shows up and says something as dumb as , “ This time there was no indication of the attack.Terrorists had the advantage of surprise.” No kidding, Sir! Wow! That’s just so brilliant! You mean they were supposed to call ahead and let us know they were on the way… and didn’t? Tch tch. How unprofessional of them! What are terrorists coming to these days.Really! It’s shocking! Jaaney bhi do, yaaron. Most of us are still alive. Rejoice. Let’s switch to happier topics… yes. That’s allowed.
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Mumbai will be saying au revoir to one of its most popular foreign diplomats – the debonair and terrifically charming Monsieur Francois Pujolas ( Consul General of France) and his elegant wife,Mayumi. Both of them plunged straight into Mumbai society within the first few days of getting here… making friends easily and rapidly across the board. From movie stars, models, fashion designers, painters, architects, industrialists, social activists, poets and writers, tout Mumbai flocked to their soirees, at which, over French wine and desi food, wonderful conversations flowed , in the best traditions of lively Parisian salons. I couldn’t get myself to attend the last Bastille Day celebrations hosted by Francois on 14th July. But knowing his love for Mumbai, I am sure he conducted the fete with appropriate decorum and discretion. We shall miss our French friends… and wish them every happiness in life.
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What happens when two of the most blindingly good looking people in Bollywood share the same frame… and indulge in a full on, tongue-rolling kiss ? Errr… great box office? Hritik Roshan’s smoulderingly hot looks makes one wonder when a volcano is going to be named after him? As for Katrina’s well-scrubbed, chirpy and cherubic sex-appeal – shouldn’t the other glam gals in Bollywood be scraping the war paint off their faces, getting into regular clothes, skipping their punishing diets and looking as seriously luscious ? ‘Dobara…’ isn’t a great film, but it is squeaky clean.No cheapo item songs, no gutter lingo.It deserves an award just for that.And yes,the Birkin gets one , too.It’s the first time in any film that a handbag has a starring role!

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Why Mumbai? Why not....?

This is me with my girls at the premiere of Vaibhavi Merchant's energetic musical, "The Taj Express," on sunday. Great editing can take a mediocre play \ movie \ book to the next level. That's what I told Vaibhavi whose work I do admire. And that's what I'd tell Zoya Akhtar if I ever run into her.

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This appeared in the Asian Age today...

Why Mumbai? Why not….?

Horror of horrors!Mumbaikars actually stayed away from work, the morning after the latest bomb blasts. Yup, those devastating ones on wednesday that ripped out the city’s gut. In case you are saying , “Oh really? How come? We always thought nothing stopped the people of Mumbai from going to work…. not even bomb blasts,” you’d be spot on. Nothing does! The only reason for mass absenteeism on Thursday morning was simple – water logging on train tracks! Imagine the irony of it all. Hundreds of commuters remained absent from work, not out of a sense of fear that there could be more blasts, but because they were stranded at suburban stations.Had it been a clear day, you bet downtown offices would have been as crammed as always. That’s Mumbai. Never say die! Even when death stares you in the face. As death did on the 13th of July when three blasts exploded in crowded areas during peak hours. Over 20 people were killed in approximately 12 minutes. The death toll is bound to go up. But at the time of writing 21 was the official figure. 20, 21 or 200… does it really matter? We in Mumbai are supposed to smile philosophically and ‘move on’. Why? Because we are ‘so resilient’. Because we ‘must work’. Because the ‘spirit of Mumbai’ is so amazing. All of this is accurate. But it is of zero comfort. We have reached a stage where the old anger has been replaced by revulsion. We watch the faces of politicians preaching across channels, advising us to ‘stay calm’. And we want to puke. Contempt for authority is a dangerous tool, especially in democracies. The time has come for citizens to demonstrate their own asli people power and demand answers from those in authority. This has happened across the Arab world, and it can (should!) happen here. The writing is on the wall. Ignore the hitherto suppressed wrath and ire of the people of this metropolis, and invite terrible retribution. An Arab Spring could rapidly turn into a Mumbai Monsoon, with a raging flood of protests that could flatten those who continue to mete out shabby treatment to the citizens of the City of Gold.
As always, it was the man and woman on the street who rose to the challenge and mobilized help within minutes of the blasts. Social networking sites were over loaded with posts and tweets offering any and every kind of assistance. The generosity, the spontaneity of several online communities, was not just commendable, but stupendous. People set up help lines, info lines, hot lines, and reached out to complete strangers without the slightest hesitation. Whether it was medical help or car rides, places to crash out for the night or hot meals for the hungry, people were going the extra mile to comfort fellow citizens. Contrast this outpouring of genuine care to the total indifference of netas like R.R.Patil, Maharashtra’s notorious Home Minister, who was largely untraceable and invisible post-blasts. Fortunately, the new bloke, Prithviraj Chavan did show up at the affected sites to speak briefly to the media. But what did the chief minister say? Oh… he trotted out predictable platitudes about terrorists striking at the heart of India etc. Having said his piece, he was bundled into a waiting car and that was it. But at least he had the brains to turn up . Contrast his gesture with Vilasrao Deshmukh’s ( who can forget his casual stroll through the corridors of the bombed out Taj Palace Hotel, after 26 \11 accompanied by his movie star son and a dodgy film maker?). And let me not forget our cops. This time they arrived swiftly enough, swinging their lathis and swaggering around the carnage, looking suitably grim. The top cop assumed an air of ‘I mean business’ but failed to convince anybody that he indeed did. After an unimpressive walkabout, the internet was flooded with sardonic comments about these keepers of the city’s law and order, notably by a blogger called Pranav Gandhi who described R.R.Patil’s job as ‘the best job in the world’ ( no responsibility, no work… but a secure berth in the cabinet, that too with the same portfolio!).
I am convinced there is something seriously wrong with us, the people of Mumbai. We are the ‘most attacked’ city on earth… and we accept this dubious ‘honour’ passively, like it is a part of our collective destiny to be frequently bombed. This is not stoicism, it is not resignation, and it most certainly isn’t resilience ( how I hate that word). So what is it? I’d call it stupidity. Plain stupidity. We think we are being heroic when we react like this when, in fact, we are being foolish. Utterly foolish. We do nothing about this sorry state of affairs and carry on like blasts are ‘normal’. Like blasts ‘happen’. Like we are supposed to sit back and accept attacks, chanting ‘Hey, this is Mumbai!’ It is because of this very idiotic attitude that terrorists love us! They can’t get enough of the city. And they are going to keep bombing us. You know why? Because they can. While we brag, ‘‘Mumbai rocks! People are so jealous of us. Look at our glittering city. Look at our billionaires. Look at the gold and diamonds in our stores! Come on, who wouldn’t want a piece of this action? Who wouldn’t want to destroy Mumbai?”, they attack! Yes, we really are that dumb. We refuse to hold anybody responsible. We refuse to make anybody answerable. We refuse to protest . What do we do instead? We show off! We get back to business as usual within hours of an attack and boast about it to the world. As if it’s something to be deliriously proud of. But hello! The facts are slightly different. Mumbai is attacked over and over again for the simple reason that it is POSSIBLE! It is ridiculously easy. Anybody can walk in with a couple of bombs and trigger them off – no problem. It can happen tomorrow morning…. even tonight. That’s how exposed and vulnerable Mumbai remains. Frankly, we are asking for it. We deserve it. If that sounds harsh – sorry! It’s the truth. The terrorists know this, too. They take advantage of Mumbai’s nakedness. They laugh. They mock.Nobody is in charge here – not even the cops…. so long as the city’s VVIPs are well protected, the aam aadmi doesn’t matter. The bad guys are well aware of Mumbai’s weaknesses…. of Mumbai’s impotence… it’s powerlessness to deal with calamities… emergencies… crises. Even after this Black Wednesday, we continue to grin, shrug and say, “Zindagi na Milegi Dobara.”
Party on, guys! Tomorrow is another day…if it comes!

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