Shobhaa De

Mar 31, 2010
SHOBHAA.JPG

Shobhaa De

Celebs and celeb-hood

What happened at the Wan-khede Stad-ium between Shah Rukh Khan, assorted officials, private bodyguards, cops, a 53-year-old security guard and a bunch of kids has been extensively covered across sever

Prince & the showgirls

Okay, so Prince Andrew is no Lauren-ce Olivier, and there wasn’t a Marilyn Monroe clone in sight, but the vilayati rajkumar does have an… ummm, reputation with the ladies. And Mumbai has countless fetching ladies. Perhaps he was smarting from the national capital’s response to his visit. Unkind Delhi journos (after being at the receiving end of a right royal snub), had described him as having the personality of a “travelling salesman”. But in Mumbai, the Queen of England’s colourful son (better known as Randy Andy), was treated to a super swish soiree in his honour, at which he happily mingled with glamorous stars from Bollywood and, of course, a few billionaires from the corporate world. From spending time with humble potters in Kumbharwadi to making the mandatory chakkar of Dharavi and staging a photo-op in full naval regalia while visiting the docks, our friendly prince had a packed schedule in aamchi Mumbai.

Murder on the menu

It doesn’t happen only in C-grade crime thrillers. It’s happening now! In a city nearest to you! Mumbai has beaten Delhi in a particularly macabre game.

‘Oh-man’ special

The serpentine expressways in Oman are something else. I commented on them as the swanky Chrysler pulled out from the airport and headed towards the magnificent Al-Bustan Palace Hotel.

Cuban delights

I live in Cuba. I’ll die in Cuba. I don’t know what freedom means…” Alexander, the burly tourist guide in Old Havana, sounded really angry as he sipped a Mojito (a delicious cocktail that was born in Cuba, along with the Pina Colada, Cuba Libre and Daiquiri) inside one of Hemingway’s favourite bars near the port. The only time he had been “allowed” to leave the country was during his military service (compulsory). As a crack Marine officer, he was privileged enough to visit a few countries in South America. And now, like many of his disgruntled countrymen, he is waiting for Fidel Castro to die. Sounds terrible, but it’s true.

Welcome to Karachi

Clearly, I am a fast learner. Minutes after walking out of the Karachi international airport, after a rather eventful Pakistan International Airlines flight from Mumbai (more about that later), I noticed the printed T-shirt of our baggage handler. Here’s what it said: “I am a bomb technician. If you see me run, try and keep up.” I swear this is true. I looked at my local minder nervously and gulped. She was sweetly saying, “Welcome to Karachi,” as she instructed an armed guard in the front seat of the car to make sure we arrived safely at our hotel.

When fame’s a liability

Don’t worry. I am not going to launch into the “Saif Ali Khan is a Nawab. He’s a good boy. I have known him and his highly refined family for three decades. Rinku has raised her kids so well. Saif could never have done this” spiel. Yes, he could. And he may have. Did he? The point is not about Saif’s illustrious lineage. It is not about class. Or breeding. Or education. It is simply about this: Did Saif do it? Did he really assault a man in public at one of Mumbai’s fanciest, priciest restaurants? Can it be proved that Saif was acting in self-defence as he claims? Was the attack unprovoked? Who hit whom first? Can that be established? Were there witnesses? Will they talk? Should we give Saif the benefit of the doubt and let the law take its own course?

High tea with Guv

I’m writing this the morning after the night before India’s 63rd Republic Day went off without an “incident”, and we should be so relieved. Imagine! It has come to that. For nearly a fortnight before January 26, there is an extra high alert all over the country, which means it is not the best time to be travelling, especially if Delhi is your destination.
First, you deal with the notorious fog (surely, there’s a foreign hand somewhere?) that delays flights for hours on end. Then there’s the deadly red alert, which means further delays and mysterious procedures.

The saviour slips up

One thing was proved in 2011: India needs better laundries. And dhobis. All our dirty linen was right there for the world to see. And no amount of Robin Blue could whitewash our soiled international reputation as one scam after another hit the headlines. The stains were of the permanent kind, unfortunately. Like leaked ink on pristine white school uniforms. Obstinate and indelible. Despite this far-from-pretty picture, there was a silver lining, too.

Fasting into oblivion?

As this dramatic year rolls to an end, I’m asking myself a searching question: To fast, or not to fast. My body says it’s a great idea and long overdue. My clothes are saying the same thing. Especially the skinny jeans. I find it extremely difficult to fast, which is one of the reasons I avoid any blood test that requires me to

The just-concluded summit meeting of the North Atlantic Treaty Organisation (Nato) in Chicago leaves gaping questions about the viability and direction of the world’s largest military alliance.

If we rework Shankar’s cartoon with, say, Mahatma Gandhi riding a bullock cart of democracy in his dwija dress and Jawaharlal Nehru standing in his sanatan pundit’s dress, a thread across his body, an

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