The Kapoor Karisma

This is a tale of the sisters Kapoor and Kapur.

I bet my bottom ruppee that the public was not aware that I was at school with Kareena. Such, however, was the case. And I actually walked up to her table (she was a few years senior to me) in the mess, to give a glass of water to someone else. (As junior most in senior school, you are definitely the child of a lesser God, and expected to run favors for the more favored seniors. This may have changed since, but in my day, I can testify that ragging was definitely not outlawed, and at its gentlest, included serving water to your seniors.)

But I digress. I saw Kareena on one other day- I think it was the Sports fete- and then she left, and moved on, winning fame, fortune, and the love of Chotte Nawab.

Now you may say that that’s not acquaintance enough to claim expertise on the Kapoo(u)rs, but frankly, I have done it on less.

Early in her career, I watched Kareena’s awkward interviews out of a feeling of possessiveness. (After all, I’d seen her when she was a babe!) Her undiplomatic statements at the time, and the hunger to be Bollywood’s top actress lost her several fans (and friends in the acting fraternity, if gossip is to be believed). Her morphosis into a poised, and beautiful actress, who heads Bollywood’s A list is to my mind a testimony to the fact that you can do what you put your mind to (err….though the right surname and connections may help).

Furthermore, it is a lesson to women who come from families where there is a pre decided ‘role’ that women serve- you can challenge the family traditions! Kapoor women did not act before Kareena and Karisma (ah now you see why I said it’s a tale of two sisters). If they did, like Neetu Kapoor, they gave it up post marriage.

My only wish now is for Kareena to continue acting post marriage- which is something Karisma has not done, although she continues to appear in ads and as a judge on the small screen. It will prove not only that Kapoor women can act (better sometimes than the men) but also continue doing so after marriage- which seems to be a taboo so far in the Kapoo(u)r household.

And I will be cheering on!

Tiger, tiger burning bright...

Photo courtesy my life's companion!

Recently I learnt there are 1400 tigers left in India (1331 if the experts on NDTV are to be believed), by official estimate. And since this is not a count of the deaths due to famine, drought, earthquake, flood etc, it’s likely to be an overestimate. Pronto, I packed my bags and set off for Ranthambore, hoping to see the great animal before it went extinct altogether.

To cut to the chase, I saw a tiger alright. In fact, I saw five of them, or, 0.38% of the official tiger population. This is important, since what I am going to say now is statistically significant: What on earth was Blake talking about? The big cats I saw were precisely that: big cats. Somewhat lethargic, with dull fur, and certainly smaller than I’d imagined the tiger would be. Makes you wonder does it not, what on earth possessed an Englishman who had only spent one day outside London during his lifetime, to write about a tiger?

Which brings me to my indictment of sanctuaries in general and ‘Project Tiger’ in particular: both of them noble no doubt in theory, but poor in execution.

Project Tiger was launched to save Indian Tigers from extinction- and its testimonial reads- 1827 tigers at inception, 1400 tigers 36 years later. Only if you are a wide eyed optimist, or want to indulge in semantics, would you think this cause to pop champagne. And if you buy the logic of Born Free, as I do, it’s hard to support the idea that sanctuaries where gradual human encroachment and cutting down of trees by indigenous peoples occurs, is the right home for the King of the Jungle.

F is for feesh

Photo courtesy Parch- the shutterbug

I got this wonderful forward from my mashi, which had a list of all things Bengalee….A for awpheesh, and so forth. F as the title informs you, is for feesh.

If you are a lover of feesh in mushtaard oil, a visit to the seaside town of Digha is a must. Digha is a three hour bus ride from Kolkata, which I can tell you is as nothing, when you aada maro the entire way with fellow passengers. (Which is as certain as the fact that the sun will rise tomorrow morning, since a Bengalee loves to aada maro with friends and strangers alike)

It will seem that Digha arrives before you can say Jack Robinson, and once there, you can feast on all things to do with the sea- feesh, prawn, crab, the list is endless.

And if you are not a lover of feesh, you can carry a polythene bag, or a paper bag (if you’re into saving the environment for future generations, which by the way you ought to be), for the most amazing shells that are found all along the beach.

Be careful collecting the shells though. Some of them you will find have a mind of their own, and crawl away at your lightest touch.

Fear Factor level 2: Not even for you Akki

Every man (and woman) has a limit: we may kid ourselves, but sooner or later the soul cries out for release. Mine was reached the day that fear factor descended to emptying bucket loads of frogs into locked glass coffins (with people bound hand and foot inside by the way).

Frogs, lizards and the rest of their creepy crawly brethren give me the heebie geebies, and not even Akki can help overcome that nightmarish sensation. Hence, I have resolved that henceforth, I will be content to cheer on the contenders from afar, no longer forming one of the crowd that watches Khatron Ke Khiladi nightly.

It may be that my gelatinous innards are not shared by the larger public- indeed my own brother has lived happily with a flat mate who kept a succession of slimy creatures as pets- starting with an iguana, and ending with a cobra that shed its skin every so often, the smell prompting the boys to clean up the mess in their room. (Genetics is so hit or miss!)

It may be that the larger public is angered by my weak decision- in this day of looking as weakness as opportunity and opportunity as potential strength. But, I have decided to put my foot down- after all, as the famous Bollywood song puts it ‘Kuch to log kahenge’.

Rosa Jaane Man

On fear factor 2, along with the chills and thrills, the svelte models in swim suits (showing off their perfect tans), the dishy Akshay Kumar (who also has a rather dishy tan), the stunning locations, was Rosa Thingummy. She of the Saif Ali Khan fame (which is, alas, thus far her one and only claim to fame).

But her performance on fear factor 2 has raised my hopes of her: the world has merely to recognize her talent and provide the right platform. Her dead pan expression (both facial and vocal), her stiff posture, her stilted Hindi prove that a life on the small screen is not for her- she should be on the big screen. Where else can one appreciate the nuances of her performance?

I am unsure if it is this realization that prompted her expulsion on episode 2 of Fear Factor- Khatron Ke Khiladi, aside from her poor performance on the challenge (I always suspect reality TV puts up put up jobs anyway). Nevertheless, the decision is so in sync with my own feelings; I cannot in honesty dispute it.

However, what I really wanted to say is kudos Rosa- you have a fan following of at least one (me). And keep hounding the offices of producers till you land the perfect big screen role.

Konkona and I

One day, I will write a book on famous actresses I have known, whose names began with the letter K, and be rich and famous. You got it. Not only did I know Kareena in school, but I also knew Konkona in college. Unlike Kareena, I never laid eyes on Konkona while at college (which is why she’s on the radar but not on Bollywood’s A list), but we belonged to the same fraternity, so to speak.

Indeed had it not been for a quirk of fate (read quirk of my father’s), we would have been sitting cheek to cheek and reading Shakespeare (or whatever else was on the syllabus) back in college, and perhaps you would know me as a co-passenger on Mrs Iyer’s bus (after all our friendship may have blossomed into a deep and abiding one).

In fact the sole reason my histrionic talent lies hidden to the film fare committee (though I did act in two school plays, and even won Best Actress for my character in one), is a) the strange notions of my dad b) the unfortunate habit of all women whose names begin with K, and who are destined to be actresses, of disappearing before I can make friends with them.

So if you are a producer/ director, or the son/daughter/cousin/neighbour/friend of a neighbour…of one, you may want to keep me in mind. I only want Rs 5 cr for my first film, seeing as how it is recession time.

Eat your heart out Ben Bernanke!

I spent the spring of my life studying Economics, thanks to my father, who interpreted ‘I want to study either Literature or History’ as ‘I want to grow old before my time, studying Economics’.

To cut a long story short, I sat through hundreds of classes through my five years at DU, and promptly forgot it all the moment I left DU.

The only recollection I have of those miserable years is one class where the Macro professor discussed the relationship between hemlines and Dow Jones- to paraphrase, what he suggested was- in Paris the hemlines go up, and simultaneously the Dow Jones index moves up (he did say something about spurious correlation, but by then he’d lost me).

They do say the hour produces the man (or woman), and perhaps my hour has come. After all Mr Bernanke, like the immortal Charlotte Lucas, ‘my hearing was more to the purpose than yours’! Here we are thick in the midst of a global crisis, and the only person with a solution is me? Maaaan…I wonder how you apply to be the next Chairman of the Fed…should I send my CV to my pal Barack?

Shoot…I’ve misplaced his email address….if any of you good folks have it, do pass it on to me. I’ll remember to appoint you Vice Chair.