Seasonal Taste, The Westin Mumbai Garden City
A visit here had been on the cards for a long time so on Saturday we braved the traffic (fortune favours the brave -- it took only 45 minutes for the 6-7 km ride from Andheri Lokhandwala which normally takes 60-75) and reached there for a kind of family evening. Prior reservations ensured that we got a table overlooking the breathtaking view of the Western Express Highway; the traffic it does look extremely charming when you are not stuck in it! And the brilliant lights of the city, one could get quite romantic!
But as I said, this was a family evening, so romantic thoughts were quickly pushed aside in favour of the more earthy pleasures of eating. We discovered that the buffet was laid out in 4 sections -- salads and cold cuts, Indian hot food, Oriental hot food, and desserts. So we started with the soups, the Indian section had a Red Kidney Bean Soup and at the other end of the restaurant the Oriental section had a Cabbage soup. Both were veg, though for the diehards, on the Oriental side they had kept bowls of chopped prawns and chicken which you could add to your soup and make it non-veg. This was not too bad, though I prefer the meat to be cooked in the soup for a while. No one tried the bean soup from the Indian side, so I can’t say anything about it.
The salads were Great, with a capital G, no other word for it. Particularly enjoyed the lamb with caramelized onion, and the oriental chicken salad, even sampled the roast beef salad (juicy!). Nice cold cuts, not too much variety but delicious, and the pepperoni was not drowned in either salt or fat, as it happens in so many places. The assorted sushi added an interesting touch. And a nice cheese platter, again not too elaborate but with the brie and the low-fat cream cheese raising the standard well above plebeian.
For the main course we stuck to the oriental side. The live counter whipped up a couple of yummy hot noodle dishes, with a slathering of asparagus and broccoli for the veggies and chicken and prawn for the non-veggies (the same chicken and prawn that went into the soup). The Thai Green Curry (veg, but you were welcome to bung in the chicken and prawn here too if you wanted, although again they could not absorb the flavours) was tangy and piquant, although a mite cold by the time they could send the steamed rice to the table (the buffet had only fried rice). By this time we were so full, (and also saving space for the desserts) that we could do no justice to all else – I think I have to go back for the Indonesian chicken stew. And oh yes, the Basil fish was yummy, too!
And so finally to the desserts. There was a great profusion of them, all very good, none spectacular. My pick was the blueberry baked yogurt; there was another very nice one but its name tag had vanished.
The bottom line? Fairly priced I would say, you get good value for your money. The service, or lack of it, could take some getting used to; we Indians after like being helped around the buffet. And I have to go back, not just for the stew and all the stuff that I already mentioned, but for the entire Indian spread and many of the desserts that I did not get to try this time because of “capacity constraints”. And of course, for the view and the romance!
Monday, May 24, 2010
Saturday, May 22, 2010
It all came together so beautifully!
Neelam and I decided we needed to give ourselves a treat, spend some quality time together and generally unwind, so we headed back to Vista for the brunch last sunday. Had the foresight to make a reservation the previous day and specify a sea view table -- there is an elevated section on the side which not only boasts of the view but also has the live band and arguably better service.
We ordered Mojitos to start with, and while they were being manufactured we ambled up to the salads and cold cuts. The first impact was the awsome variety, the sheer number of items. Which was quickly followed by another shock (pleasant one, of course), the realization that each and every item is sheer exotica, be it the Prosciutto Wrapped Melon or the Roast Pepper Wrapped King Prawns or the Mixed Seafood Sushi. Or for that matter the half-dozen each variety of hams and cheeses, each from a different geography, ably supported by a whole bunch of salamis and other cold meats. Or the supremely fresh and chilled rock oysters, each with smooth full meat, served with 6 different types of seasonings -- a compelling reason, if one were needed, to have at least 6 oysters!
The Mojitos finally came, a bit slow but very well made, not too sweet, not too strong and not at all (as often happens in an unlimited alcohol buffet) watered down. By this time we were almost done with the salads, so we went down for the next round -- dimsums. Prawn, chicken, and veg -- all excellent. So good, in fact, that we quickly returned for a second helping, and I took advantage of the trip to grab another bunch of stuff from the cold stage, it was just too tempting!
Knowing from past experience that the grills take time, we ordered our choices before returning to the table. Neelam opted for lamb chops while I asked for the sausage (I have a serious weakness for sausages, ask Jharna!). And that's when we made another brilliant discovery -- nestled amidst the conti side main course dishes were the Bacon Wrapped King Prawns. As Ms. Shilpa Shetty would say, SUPERB!
Oh, and did I tell you, we had also asked for a pepperoni pizza, and it landed up incredibly thin-based and crispy and delicious, tho' perhaps just a wee bit oily for our taste, and of course much too large -- for the buffets they must cut down the size from 12 inches to 8, we had to waste most of it .
The grills arrived now, the lamb chops were divine, and the sausages were -- guess what -- flavoured with fresh mint ground in with the meat, the combination tasted like out of this world, full marks. We switched drinks now, Neelam wanted something sweeter so a strawberry daiquari arrived -- of course, with the true Taj touch of luxury, made entirely with fresh strawberries, pieces and crush. I went back to my Bacardi-Coke, nothing much you can do with that!
So these were the starters, and boy, with starters like these, who can even look at the main courses? But we soldiered on, and very glad we did, else we would have missed the Nalli Stew, which was just amazing, delicately spiced but still flavoursome, cooked to perfection with the meat falling off the bone. Heaven on Earth!
The main course dishes also reminded us that sometimes it rains even in paradise. The kadhi was too thick and not tangy enough, and the dahi vadas could have been a mite softer, and poor things must have been feeling lost without imli chutney on the side. And the rest of the food did not rise sufficently high to be able to tempt us to try after all that we had already eaten, even the Gosht Biryani which I usually love and seldom go.
And time now to talk abouut the sweet things. There were several -- not just to eat, but also to hear and see. The live music was what would is presently called "retro", but that is what we grew up with, and we were very happy to sing along with the crooner -- under our breaths, I assure you! I think this is the typical Taj coffee shop music thing, I remember Stella used to sing the same genre at the Machan in Delhi , and likewise the duo who played at Shamiana in Mumbai. Incidentally, I believe that our Landsend Lady (I could not get her name) is probably the best singer of the lot.
And the sweet things to see, particularly, were a couple of little kids, a boy maybe 18 months and his sister maybe 3 years old, so cute and well behaved and curious but silent. And plenty of other families and parties and groups, adding life to the place without getting loud or crowded. In other words, a wonderfully warm, family, sunday afternoon type of atmosphere.
Let me gloss over the desserts, since they were all spectacular,; let me mention just two that stood out head and shoulders over the rest. One was the Champagne Jelly, something that I never had before, and having had it now, I strongly feel that it must figure in everbody's bucket list (i.e., they must have it at least once before they kick the bucket). And the other is the rose chocolate, richly flavoured and shaped and coloured to resemble the petals of the flower.
So we had a great time, like I said at the beginning, everything came together beautifully, thank you Taj, and even the wee bit at the end, when we said Hi to Emanuel and Radhika at the adjacent table, and out of the blue they paid us a compliment that will warm our hearts for ever and ever.
PS: (Statutory Disclaimer) This review contains Neelam's and my personal views. Taj did not know that I write, and I myself paid for the meal (through my nose!).
We ordered Mojitos to start with, and while they were being manufactured we ambled up to the salads and cold cuts. The first impact was the awsome variety, the sheer number of items. Which was quickly followed by another shock (pleasant one, of course), the realization that each and every item is sheer exotica, be it the Prosciutto Wrapped Melon or the Roast Pepper Wrapped King Prawns or the Mixed Seafood Sushi. Or for that matter the half-dozen each variety of hams and cheeses, each from a different geography, ably supported by a whole bunch of salamis and other cold meats. Or the supremely fresh and chilled rock oysters, each with smooth full meat, served with 6 different types of seasonings -- a compelling reason, if one were needed, to have at least 6 oysters!
The Mojitos finally came, a bit slow but very well made, not too sweet, not too strong and not at all (as often happens in an unlimited alcohol buffet) watered down. By this time we were almost done with the salads, so we went down for the next round -- dimsums. Prawn, chicken, and veg -- all excellent. So good, in fact, that we quickly returned for a second helping, and I took advantage of the trip to grab another bunch of stuff from the cold stage, it was just too tempting!
Knowing from past experience that the grills take time, we ordered our choices before returning to the table. Neelam opted for lamb chops while I asked for the sausage (I have a serious weakness for sausages, ask Jharna!). And that's when we made another brilliant discovery -- nestled amidst the conti side main course dishes were the Bacon Wrapped King Prawns. As Ms. Shilpa Shetty would say, SUPERB!
Oh, and did I tell you, we had also asked for a pepperoni pizza, and it landed up incredibly thin-based and crispy and delicious, tho' perhaps just a wee bit oily for our taste, and of course much too large -- for the buffets they must cut down the size from 12 inches to 8, we had to waste most of it .
The grills arrived now, the lamb chops were divine, and the sausages were -- guess what -- flavoured with fresh mint ground in with the meat, the combination tasted like out of this world, full marks. We switched drinks now, Neelam wanted something sweeter so a strawberry daiquari arrived -- of course, with the true Taj touch of luxury, made entirely with fresh strawberries, pieces and crush. I went back to my Bacardi-Coke, nothing much you can do with that!
So these were the starters, and boy, with starters like these, who can even look at the main courses? But we soldiered on, and very glad we did, else we would have missed the Nalli Stew, which was just amazing, delicately spiced but still flavoursome, cooked to perfection with the meat falling off the bone. Heaven on Earth!
The main course dishes also reminded us that sometimes it rains even in paradise. The kadhi was too thick and not tangy enough, and the dahi vadas could have been a mite softer, and poor things must have been feeling lost without imli chutney on the side. And the rest of the food did not rise sufficently high to be able to tempt us to try after all that we had already eaten, even the Gosht Biryani which I usually love and seldom go.
And time now to talk abouut the sweet things. There were several -- not just to eat, but also to hear and see. The live music was what would is presently called "retro", but that is what we grew up with, and we were very happy to sing along with the crooner -- under our breaths, I assure you! I think this is the typical Taj coffee shop music thing, I remember Stella used to sing the same genre at the Machan in Delhi , and likewise the duo who played at Shamiana in Mumbai. Incidentally, I believe that our Landsend Lady (I could not get her name) is probably the best singer of the lot.
And the sweet things to see, particularly, were a couple of little kids, a boy maybe 18 months and his sister maybe 3 years old, so cute and well behaved and curious but silent. And plenty of other families and parties and groups, adding life to the place without getting loud or crowded. In other words, a wonderfully warm, family, sunday afternoon type of atmosphere.
Let me gloss over the desserts, since they were all spectacular,; let me mention just two that stood out head and shoulders over the rest. One was the Champagne Jelly, something that I never had before, and having had it now, I strongly feel that it must figure in everbody's bucket list (i.e., they must have it at least once before they kick the bucket). And the other is the rose chocolate, richly flavoured and shaped and coloured to resemble the petals of the flower.
So we had a great time, like I said at the beginning, everything came together beautifully, thank you Taj, and even the wee bit at the end, when we said Hi to Emanuel and Radhika at the adjacent table, and out of the blue they paid us a compliment that will warm our hearts for ever and ever.
PS: (Statutory Disclaimer) This review contains Neelam's and my personal views. Taj did not know that I write, and I myself paid for the meal (through my nose!).
Monday, November 2, 2009
My First Tamil Movie
Last Thursday, for the first time in my life, I went for a Tamil movie.
Please note, I went for a Tamil movie. I did not pause on a South Indian movie while flipping channels on TV, curious about some exotic location or fast car or skimpy dress. I did not try to see the classic movie (Tamil or Malayalam, I haven’t figured out) that Ashima Didi got one of her students to send me on a DVD – that one is still lying in the drawer, discontinued after the first couple of scenes. This wasn’t even a college escapade – we never went for a “Southie” movie in college, no matter how drunk we were or how “hot” the movie was reputed to be or even how broke we were – admission to a Southie movie was only a buck against 3 bucks for a regular Hindi movie and 5 for a blockbuster.
No, this was a regular Tamil movie, in a cinema hall, a special pre-release show, I went intentionally, very sure I would watch it from beginning to end. No, I have not suddenly learned Tamil, nor am I studying Tamil and trying to practice by watching a movie in the language. In fact I have no Tamil, except perhaps Aapudiya (Is That So?), and Inge Verta, which I think means Come Here but will not be surprised if it turns out to be Good Afternoon or Wife’s Uncle or something. And of course I can count – Unn, Rundd, Moonn, Naall, Anjh – though I never needed to count more than five in Tamil because 5 hours was the absolute limit of overtime I would allow my workers during my engineering days (in Baroda I had Tamil fitters and Mallu welders, do forgive me if I have mixed up Tamil and Malayalam). Anyways, the nub is that I guess I was justified in feeling a mite uneasy about what I would do if I could not understand anything in the movie. But I refused to let myself think about it, and chanting “Aapudiya Inge Verta” for strength I overcame my trepidation.
For the movie was Kanden Kadhalai, Tammu’s big film, Tamannah to use her screen name. We had a special invitation from her and her parents, and I so eagerly wanted to see her on the Big Silver Screen. It is the Tamil remake of a recent Hindi blockbuster and Tammu plays the lead role, the one Kareena Kapoor had played in the Hindi version (I hesitate to use the word “original” in relation to any Indian film). I had enjoyed that movie, seen it a number of time on TV, and even today can easily see it again and again. But mistake not, the movie itself was not as important to me as the star.
As it turned out, I need not have worried about my language handicap. For one thing, with the Tamil version sticking quite closely to the Hindi one, I was quite comfortable in terms of knowing what was going on. OK, I did not get many of the jokes, and even if I knew the words I would have missed the finer nuances, not knowing the culture, the way of life. Still, I did not have to ask Geeta’s help even once.
But mostly I was too busy watching Tammu to even realize that I could not follow the dialogues. She breathed so much life into her character that I was left quite breathless. She filled up the screen with her smile, with her energy, her sheer effervescence. Like the lady sitting next to us (a director at Rajshri) exclaimed, “She lights up the screen!”
And when Tammu was not on the screen, I found it gave me time to get back my breath, and try to remember what came next in the original version, and compare the two, and critique the film. I found that Tammu as Anjali was very, very close to Kareena as Geet, in a few scenes perhaps even better. If anyone says that Kareena was just a tad better, it would be because she was acting in her own language and more importantly, she was acting opposite her real life boyfriend, benefiting from a chemistry that can never be replicated by actors.
Net result – I fell in love with Tammu, just as I have fallen in love with all the accomplished actresses in the past – Waheeda, Sharmila (I was the President of the IIT Kanpur Sharmila Tagore Fan Club, and Khushwant Singh printed a letter to the editor I wrote during the Sharmila acting controversy about an year after Aradhana), Sadhana, Kareena, Zinta – a whole string of them. As friend QJ pointed out, the names all end in the same sound (onomatopoeia, he called it, he was always the brainy one), and I pointed out that the sound of Tamannah fits right in the list.
So with all our blessings and good wishes, Tammu is going to be an even bigger star. Watch this space, one day she will be the undisputed Queen of all filmdom, and I will be writing about a super-duper blockbuster hit of hers. Meanwhile, I’m really glad Neelam and I got exclusive pictures taken with her, now to pin her down and get them autographed while we can!
Please note, I went for a Tamil movie. I did not pause on a South Indian movie while flipping channels on TV, curious about some exotic location or fast car or skimpy dress. I did not try to see the classic movie (Tamil or Malayalam, I haven’t figured out) that Ashima Didi got one of her students to send me on a DVD – that one is still lying in the drawer, discontinued after the first couple of scenes. This wasn’t even a college escapade – we never went for a “Southie” movie in college, no matter how drunk we were or how “hot” the movie was reputed to be or even how broke we were – admission to a Southie movie was only a buck against 3 bucks for a regular Hindi movie and 5 for a blockbuster.
No, this was a regular Tamil movie, in a cinema hall, a special pre-release show, I went intentionally, very sure I would watch it from beginning to end. No, I have not suddenly learned Tamil, nor am I studying Tamil and trying to practice by watching a movie in the language. In fact I have no Tamil, except perhaps Aapudiya (Is That So?), and Inge Verta, which I think means Come Here but will not be surprised if it turns out to be Good Afternoon or Wife’s Uncle or something. And of course I can count – Unn, Rundd, Moonn, Naall, Anjh – though I never needed to count more than five in Tamil because 5 hours was the absolute limit of overtime I would allow my workers during my engineering days (in Baroda I had Tamil fitters and Mallu welders, do forgive me if I have mixed up Tamil and Malayalam). Anyways, the nub is that I guess I was justified in feeling a mite uneasy about what I would do if I could not understand anything in the movie. But I refused to let myself think about it, and chanting “Aapudiya Inge Verta” for strength I overcame my trepidation.
For the movie was Kanden Kadhalai, Tammu’s big film, Tamannah to use her screen name. We had a special invitation from her and her parents, and I so eagerly wanted to see her on the Big Silver Screen. It is the Tamil remake of a recent Hindi blockbuster and Tammu plays the lead role, the one Kareena Kapoor had played in the Hindi version (I hesitate to use the word “original” in relation to any Indian film). I had enjoyed that movie, seen it a number of time on TV, and even today can easily see it again and again. But mistake not, the movie itself was not as important to me as the star.
As it turned out, I need not have worried about my language handicap. For one thing, with the Tamil version sticking quite closely to the Hindi one, I was quite comfortable in terms of knowing what was going on. OK, I did not get many of the jokes, and even if I knew the words I would have missed the finer nuances, not knowing the culture, the way of life. Still, I did not have to ask Geeta’s help even once.
But mostly I was too busy watching Tammu to even realize that I could not follow the dialogues. She breathed so much life into her character that I was left quite breathless. She filled up the screen with her smile, with her energy, her sheer effervescence. Like the lady sitting next to us (a director at Rajshri) exclaimed, “She lights up the screen!”
And when Tammu was not on the screen, I found it gave me time to get back my breath, and try to remember what came next in the original version, and compare the two, and critique the film. I found that Tammu as Anjali was very, very close to Kareena as Geet, in a few scenes perhaps even better. If anyone says that Kareena was just a tad better, it would be because she was acting in her own language and more importantly, she was acting opposite her real life boyfriend, benefiting from a chemistry that can never be replicated by actors.
Net result – I fell in love with Tammu, just as I have fallen in love with all the accomplished actresses in the past – Waheeda, Sharmila (I was the President of the IIT Kanpur Sharmila Tagore Fan Club, and Khushwant Singh printed a letter to the editor I wrote during the Sharmila acting controversy about an year after Aradhana), Sadhana, Kareena, Zinta – a whole string of them. As friend QJ pointed out, the names all end in the same sound (onomatopoeia, he called it, he was always the brainy one), and I pointed out that the sound of Tamannah fits right in the list.
So with all our blessings and good wishes, Tammu is going to be an even bigger star. Watch this space, one day she will be the undisputed Queen of all filmdom, and I will be writing about a super-duper blockbuster hit of hers. Meanwhile, I’m really glad Neelam and I got exclusive pictures taken with her, now to pin her down and get them autographed while we can!
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
STAR STRUCK (Part fiction)
On sunday I had lunch with a film star.
A proper film star, an established leading lady. A household name, complete with screaming fans and ecstatic media discussions about her numero uno status. A beautiful, charming, graceful and confident super-star with the power (hopefully judiciously exercised) to break a million hearts with one look. [And a proper lunch it was too, at her home, lovingly served by her charming mother, not one of those corporate sponsored 5-star events with fancily named but mass manufactured food, and bored stars paid for dining with the winners of some SMS contest – but I run away with myself, more later about the lunch, and of course the charming mother].
I hope you, dear reader, are now all agog about the identity of this film star. Well, I’m not going to tell you. It was a totally private lunch that they had invited us to, just one other family besides us. And I believe that they – the whole family – deserve to be able to enjoy a relaxed Sunday without the paparazzi analyzing what a friend has written. So let me just call her Honeychild. Honey because she is really so sweet in a good-for-you comforting kind of way, and Child because she is a few years younger than my son Romit, with whom she incidentally shares her birthday. Of course, many of our friends, especially “My Girls”, know whom I’m talking about, and in their familiarity they may say “Oh why is he making such a big deal”, but what the heck, this is my blog, and I get to decide how much to reveal!
We landed at their place just after one in the afternoon, to a very warm welcome from her parents. I was more than a little nervous, as I am easily star-struck, some would say I am easily struck by pretty young ladies, stars or not, and they are probably right, and the stardom just makes the strike that much more intense. But Honeychild we were told was sleeping, feeling poorly after shooting for a whole week in – yes, in – a waterfall, complete with mucky slush and over-affectionate leeches – oh, how much the lying camera hides from us! Exploitation of the star class by unfeeling producers, I thought to myself.
And out came the eats, Honeychild’s mom had made so many starters, and was so warm in her hospitality, that I was soon at ease, the ice was completely melted, totally smashed (only the ice was smashed, not me – they neither consume nor serve alcohol, which is probably just as well, since I very likely would have overdone the Dutch courage bit). The way to men's hearts, goes the adage, and Honeychild's mum surely made an 8-lane expressway into ours!
Having done with the starters (which normally would have been a complete lunch and dinner), we decided to watch excerpts from one of Honeychild’s latest films. This was a very welcome suggestion, since despite being something of a movie buff (albeit part-time due to work & other pressures), I had so far not seen Honeychild on the screen. Immediately enthralled by her costumed beauty, extremely expressive acting and graceful dancing, I was kind of so captivated, watching the show with rapt attention, that it took a little while for the a murmur of hellos to penetrate my consciousness and I finally realized that Honeychild had joined us.
Wooosh! Star Strike!! My knees turned to jelly; I was super nervous all over again. More so after – during – watching her virtuoso performances, now I knew first hand that she is a star; so far it was hearsay from the media. My heart pounded, my palms became sweaty. I might have blushed. Like Belafonte, I stammered and I stuttered pathetically, or feared I would. With great effort I pulled myself together and somehow managed to a) keep standing and not drop anything; b) take the “Handshake or Hug?” confusion in my stride; and c) execute the hug to perfection – not too close and not too far.
I hugged a star! A movie heroine!!
That was it for me. Slumped back in my seat, while she fortunately sat at the other end of the semi-circle and pointed out some of the finer points of the shots. I took deep breaths and managed to gradually slow down my pulse, and then her mom announced a pani-puri break – saved by the (lunch) bell!!
By the way, did I tell you that Neelam is also Honeychild’s skin consultant? So a little time was spent discussing a rash Honeychild had developed courtesy of the slush or the leeches, or both. Occupational hazards or exploitation? I haven’t decided yet. But it kind of brought out the truth in the oft repeated but difficult to believe line that stars are also human, and made me feel a whole lot better.
After a post-pani-puri break, during which we heard adventure stories relating to shooting at various exotic locations (of course mum and / or dad travel with Honeychild), the lunch itself was served, and the conversation drifted to other actresses, all contenders for the top spot. And that led on to specific actresses in specific roles, and then I dropped a brick by asking about PC’s role in Dostana.
Prompt reply – That wasn’t a role, she was just supposed to be there, and wear small clothes. Right. Very right. Stupid question. Prof. M.M. (Mamu) Chaudhri, my TV Center Head at IIT, would have been appalled at my shallow thinking. But shucks, I’m a photographer; I am naturally more interested in the visual aspects. I am also a man. Neelam covered up for me by saying that PC had worked hard on her body for that film. And Shefu, my sweet Shefu, tried to bale me out by saying that she had loved PC in Fashion. But a brick is a brick, and will stay with me, like umpteen others, till my dying day.
But soon the sun came out again: “Uncle, that’s a very cute tattoo”. So I introduced her to Ariel, the mermaid on my left arm, and to the nameless shooting stars on my right – she got up and came to me for a closer look. And I got over my heebie-jeebies, and I joined in the larger conversation about Osho and spirituality, and I swanked that I am currently reading The Tibetain Book of Life and Death.
And then, as usual, just as things were beginning to warm up, it was time to leave. Clinging to straws I promised to send a copy of The Secret; something, anything to extend the connection. And I got another hug. This time I was steady. Tomorrow of course she will fly away again to some exotic location, but she’ll be back, and maybe she’ll come to our place for dinner, and I’ll ask her whether she got a chance to get at The Secret, and what she thought of it.
Like the girl said in the paint advertisement, I’ll wait.
***********
[I’m a photographer, why did I not take any pictures? Simple – you cannot just take pictures of a star; photo shoots have to be very carefully thought of, perfectly planned and professionally executed – not something you can do over lunch. And you cannot just take pictures with a star, anyone who sees them thinks you took them for a nefarious purpose, commercial or charitable or just to show off. On an occasion like this, you need pictures solely to record the memories of a good time spent together. Well, these are some of my memories of Sunday afternoon, perhaps they evoke some pictures. This, then, is my photo album, something like John Steinbeck’s box. And many thanks to Honeychild for being a star, (in spite of all the nervousness I faced) – had she not been one I would have taken pictures instead of reverting to writing, which was my first creative outlet, and which Neelam has been encouraging me to resume for more than a decade now]
A proper film star, an established leading lady. A household name, complete with screaming fans and ecstatic media discussions about her numero uno status. A beautiful, charming, graceful and confident super-star with the power (hopefully judiciously exercised) to break a million hearts with one look. [And a proper lunch it was too, at her home, lovingly served by her charming mother, not one of those corporate sponsored 5-star events with fancily named but mass manufactured food, and bored stars paid for dining with the winners of some SMS contest – but I run away with myself, more later about the lunch, and of course the charming mother].
I hope you, dear reader, are now all agog about the identity of this film star. Well, I’m not going to tell you. It was a totally private lunch that they had invited us to, just one other family besides us. And I believe that they – the whole family – deserve to be able to enjoy a relaxed Sunday without the paparazzi analyzing what a friend has written. So let me just call her Honeychild. Honey because she is really so sweet in a good-for-you comforting kind of way, and Child because she is a few years younger than my son Romit, with whom she incidentally shares her birthday. Of course, many of our friends, especially “My Girls”, know whom I’m talking about, and in their familiarity they may say “Oh why is he making such a big deal”, but what the heck, this is my blog, and I get to decide how much to reveal!
We landed at their place just after one in the afternoon, to a very warm welcome from her parents. I was more than a little nervous, as I am easily star-struck, some would say I am easily struck by pretty young ladies, stars or not, and they are probably right, and the stardom just makes the strike that much more intense. But Honeychild we were told was sleeping, feeling poorly after shooting for a whole week in – yes, in – a waterfall, complete with mucky slush and over-affectionate leeches – oh, how much the lying camera hides from us! Exploitation of the star class by unfeeling producers, I thought to myself.
And out came the eats, Honeychild’s mom had made so many starters, and was so warm in her hospitality, that I was soon at ease, the ice was completely melted, totally smashed (only the ice was smashed, not me – they neither consume nor serve alcohol, which is probably just as well, since I very likely would have overdone the Dutch courage bit). The way to men's hearts, goes the adage, and Honeychild's mum surely made an 8-lane expressway into ours!
Having done with the starters (which normally would have been a complete lunch and dinner), we decided to watch excerpts from one of Honeychild’s latest films. This was a very welcome suggestion, since despite being something of a movie buff (albeit part-time due to work & other pressures), I had so far not seen Honeychild on the screen. Immediately enthralled by her costumed beauty, extremely expressive acting and graceful dancing, I was kind of so captivated, watching the show with rapt attention, that it took a little while for the a murmur of hellos to penetrate my consciousness and I finally realized that Honeychild had joined us.
Wooosh! Star Strike!! My knees turned to jelly; I was super nervous all over again. More so after – during – watching her virtuoso performances, now I knew first hand that she is a star; so far it was hearsay from the media. My heart pounded, my palms became sweaty. I might have blushed. Like Belafonte, I stammered and I stuttered pathetically, or feared I would. With great effort I pulled myself together and somehow managed to a) keep standing and not drop anything; b) take the “Handshake or Hug?” confusion in my stride; and c) execute the hug to perfection – not too close and not too far.
I hugged a star! A movie heroine!!
That was it for me. Slumped back in my seat, while she fortunately sat at the other end of the semi-circle and pointed out some of the finer points of the shots. I took deep breaths and managed to gradually slow down my pulse, and then her mom announced a pani-puri break – saved by the (lunch) bell!!
By the way, did I tell you that Neelam is also Honeychild’s skin consultant? So a little time was spent discussing a rash Honeychild had developed courtesy of the slush or the leeches, or both. Occupational hazards or exploitation? I haven’t decided yet. But it kind of brought out the truth in the oft repeated but difficult to believe line that stars are also human, and made me feel a whole lot better.
After a post-pani-puri break, during which we heard adventure stories relating to shooting at various exotic locations (of course mum and / or dad travel with Honeychild), the lunch itself was served, and the conversation drifted to other actresses, all contenders for the top spot. And that led on to specific actresses in specific roles, and then I dropped a brick by asking about PC’s role in Dostana.
Prompt reply – That wasn’t a role, she was just supposed to be there, and wear small clothes. Right. Very right. Stupid question. Prof. M.M. (Mamu) Chaudhri, my TV Center Head at IIT, would have been appalled at my shallow thinking. But shucks, I’m a photographer; I am naturally more interested in the visual aspects. I am also a man. Neelam covered up for me by saying that PC had worked hard on her body for that film. And Shefu, my sweet Shefu, tried to bale me out by saying that she had loved PC in Fashion. But a brick is a brick, and will stay with me, like umpteen others, till my dying day.
But soon the sun came out again: “Uncle, that’s a very cute tattoo”. So I introduced her to Ariel, the mermaid on my left arm, and to the nameless shooting stars on my right – she got up and came to me for a closer look. And I got over my heebie-jeebies, and I joined in the larger conversation about Osho and spirituality, and I swanked that I am currently reading The Tibetain Book of Life and Death.
And then, as usual, just as things were beginning to warm up, it was time to leave. Clinging to straws I promised to send a copy of The Secret; something, anything to extend the connection. And I got another hug. This time I was steady. Tomorrow of course she will fly away again to some exotic location, but she’ll be back, and maybe she’ll come to our place for dinner, and I’ll ask her whether she got a chance to get at The Secret, and what she thought of it.
Like the girl said in the paint advertisement, I’ll wait.
***********
[I’m a photographer, why did I not take any pictures? Simple – you cannot just take pictures of a star; photo shoots have to be very carefully thought of, perfectly planned and professionally executed – not something you can do over lunch. And you cannot just take pictures with a star, anyone who sees them thinks you took them for a nefarious purpose, commercial or charitable or just to show off. On an occasion like this, you need pictures solely to record the memories of a good time spent together. Well, these are some of my memories of Sunday afternoon, perhaps they evoke some pictures. This, then, is my photo album, something like John Steinbeck’s box. And many thanks to Honeychild for being a star, (in spite of all the nervousness I faced) – had she not been one I would have taken pictures instead of reverting to writing, which was my first creative outlet, and which Neelam has been encouraging me to resume for more than a decade now]
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