Another page 3 party (or the ABBA show)

Paulo Cohello in his bestselling book “The Alchemist” wrote “ If you really want somehing the world conspires to give it you” ( or something to that affect). The more I live life the more I believe in the statement.

The newspaper I work for is currently sponsering “ ABBA, The Show”, a band which sings cover versions of ABBA songs. Tickets for the show were available for a price. But you don’t buy tickets for a show that the newspaper you work for is sponsering. And so the tickets go sold out ( or so I was told) and the passes were not forthcoming.

So having given up all hope, two and a half hours before the show was supposed to start, I was pleasently surprised when my boss handed me his pass to the show. The world did conspire to make it happen. And as soon I got the pass I dashed off to the Jamshed Bhaba Auditorium where the event was being staged.

As soon as I got down from the cab, who do I see, bad man,”Gulshan Grover”, wearing denims and a pair of sunglasses, looking a little jaded but still with his villanious smile on. And what else do you expect from a person who has made a career out of raping women. “ Bhagwaan ke leeye mujhe chhod do?”, “ Bhagwan ke leeye chhod doon, na, kabhi nahi”.

As soon I got into the auditorium I realised that this is gonna be another page three party. I seemed to be making a habit out of it. This being my second party in as many weeks.
( This is something I have learnt in journalism, you get two examples and you make a trend out of it).

It just took one celebrity for my small town roots to take over and I was hoping to see many more. Inside the auditorium, there was Nina Manuel, looking as fit as ever, in a sexy outfit, trying to get people to speak for the midnight show she hots (oops I meant hosts) on Zee Music.

As I waited on the sidelines I realised that sidelines are the best place to stand in page 3 parties if the idea is to eat, as its closer to the kitchen., Anywhere in the middle and all you’ll get is waiters with empty plates.

For the next half an hour I did not recognise any celebrity other than a couple of page 3 types who looked familiar. And then there was Ila Arun, standing parde ke peeche and wearing what else but a Choli ( Ok, I am making up the Choli part, but then that’s her claim to fame). She looked dashing in a big customary teeka and her big black haunting eyes.

A moment later Ramesh Sippy walked in with his much younger wife Kiran Juneja ( or is it Joneja, with so many numerologists around, one is never sure) who seems to be trying to get even more younger day by day. Guess wearing tight pants and getting the hair coloured wont do her any good unless until she get rids of that paunch.. At times I wonder, how must it feel like, to make something as big as Sholay, and then do nothing of any real significance in the 3 decades that follow. Unless of course if you consdier Buniyaad.

Sippy was followed by Pritish Nandy, onetime journalist and now a full time movie producer, appropriately wearing a flamboyant red shirt with the top two buttons open. On the sidelines was the sometime darling of the art film makers, K K Raina. These days he scripts some of the movies that Rajkumar Santoshi directs.

As soon as I turn around, I see Pooja Bedi, in a dapper black outfit, well not so young anymore, but as hot as she used to be. Though the dark circles below her eyes spoilt the fun. God I still remember those days when we boys used to cram up near the windows to stare at her posters, as the school bus passed Shree Vishnu Cinema in Ranchi, where her first movie Vishkanya was playing. And who can forget those Kamasutra ads. Does anyone rememebr the model in them by any chance ?

The show started at around eight o clock. The little experience I have of watching music concerts I know that all good musicians build it up. Be it Indian classical or Rock n Roll. So as the first half progressed, the band sung hit ABBA songs like “ Money Money Money”, “ Take a chance on me”. The audience sang along and it was good fun. After an hour there was an interval and the celebrity watching started again.

The first celebrity I ran into was Chunkey Pandey ( for the unitiated his mother is Rekha’s doctor, he was a sidehero to Govinda in many films, went on to become the superstar in Bangladeshi films, was the only filmstar to find a mention in what is the best book on the city of Bombay, Shantaram, these days is one of Ramgopal Varma’s favourite artists and was last seen in Darwaza Band Rakho) behaving like a superstar he never was, with an unlighted Marlboro in his hand. And the cigarette remained unlit for the half and hour period I observed him.

After gulping down a couple of Diet Pepsis, I ran into a hunk, who I felt is a male model I had seen somewhere before and whose name I could not recall. Took me sometime to figure out he was Yashwardhan Birla, one of the scions of the Birla family. Five minutes later I was standing in front of Kumarmanglam Birla, who looks a lot leaner, fitter and smaller than what his pictures suggest he is.

The second half as expected turned out to be more exciting with the band belting out hits like “ Gimme Gimme”, “Fernando”, “Voule Vouz” etc. But the song that made my “Paisa Vasool”, even though I hadn’t paid a single penny for the pass, was my favourite Abba number, “I have a dream, a song to sing”. The crowd was all excited, a parsi gentleman who looked to be slightly tipsy was singing at the top of his voice, a young woman had just stolen a kiss with her lover, an old woman sitting in front was trying to dance, a couple was jiving at full speed and even Pooja Bedi was dancing in the aisles. All pretensions had been given up and people were generally having a good time.

And then like all good concerts, the band sang what they said was the last song and it was all over. But how could they leave without singing “The Dancing Queen”, the biggest Abba hit of all time. The crowd thought the same, shouted at the top of its voice, and got it. The entire thing made me wonder, “did they really forget or was it stage managed?”.

As I walked out of the auditorium onto the Netaji Subhash Chandra Marg ( that’s what the Government of India calls it, the common man calls it the Marine Drive), I realized three things: a) I had a sore throat b) Abba songs continue to popular because they are all about this universal emotion they call love c)It takes a lot to sell a newspaper these days and news is just an insignificant part of it.

PS: The next day’s newspaper told me that Sunil Gavaskar was also there and I hadn’t been able to see him…..

A Page 3 party

How would you feel if you went to an event thinking it’s a book launch and it turns out to be a page 3 party ? Well something to that effect happened to me a couple of days back.

I like reading books on Mumbai. Knowing that Vikram Chandra’s book Sacred Games had just come out, I went to pick it up from Oxford book store. Having bought the book, as I was leaving, the shop attendant told me that the book was supposed to be launched at the Rooftop of the Hilton ( formerly the Oberoi) today at 7 pm. “Chandra will be reading from the book as well” I was told.

The book is all of 900 pages long and is about a Sikh inspector in Mumbai police named Sartaj Singh who accidentally happens to get hold of Ganesh Gaitonde the boss of the C company. For those who loved Shantaram, this one is 36 pages less.

A quick glance at my mobile told me that it was already 8 o’clock. Now Mumbai is not Delhi where IST becomes Indian Stretchable Time. My limited experience in this city tells me that events usually start around half an hour late. Given this the chances of event being over by now were extremely high.

I made a dash for a cab and was at the Hilton in five minutes. As soon as I walked in to the hotel I ran into a colleague of mine who told me that the book reading was very short and now Chandra was signing books. So I had already missed the main part.

As soon as I entered the Rooftop there was smoke all around me. The smoke was because of the cigars that people were smoking. For a moment I thought I had walked into the wrong room. But the board outside had said “Book Launch: Sacred Games”. So I was definitely in the right room.

And then I saw Vikram Chandra standing in one corner giving an interview to a television channel. My first instinct was to leave. I thought it would be difficult to reach him and get the book autographed. Also I was feeling extremely out of place with a jhola and a umbrella hanging out of it. But then the very next moment I felt, now that I was there, why not wait. My eleven months in the city have made me realise that the two most important elements of surviving in Mumbai are chance and hope. If you have hope, you can take a chance. And then dance on it! That’s what this city is all about.

Plus by then my small town roots had taken over. I thought why not check out the “chota mota” celebrities who were there.

Vidhu Vinod Chopra ( who incidentally happens to be married to Chandra’s sister Anupapa) was laughing away loudly at one end of the room. Not showing any concern on “ Sunju baba” delaying the dubbing of Munnabhai part deux. His third wife Anupama, who was also there, was looking gorgeous in a short skirt. Then at the other corner, was Nethra Raghuraman, sometime model and actress ( oops! Even actresses are actors these days), looking gorgeous in a backless frock ( pardon me if there is a name for that as well) and smiling away to glory.

Vijayendra Ghatge was there in a black suit with black sunglasses covering his eyes. This is something I have never figured out. Why do film stars wear sunglasses inside a room or for that matter even during the night?

He had a drink in one hand and the book in another and was behaving like a superstar he never had been ( For those who do not know who he is. He was introduced in this Rajshree pictures movie called Chitchor, which had Amol Palekar and Zareena Wahab in the lead roles. The role he essayed in the original was played by Abhishek Bachchan in Sooraj Barjatiya’s lousy remake of Chitchor, called Main Prem ki Deewani Hoon.)

To my right was Simone Singh( of the television serial Henna fame and who was also seen in an itsy bitsy role in Kal Ho Na Ho). She was posing for the photographers with a drink in her hand and probably hoping that the picutres make it to the newpapers in a couple of days ( party pictures never get carried the next day because by the time they come in the newpaper already has gone for print).

And then there was Asif Zakaria looking much older from his Chunnauti days . (Chunnauti was one of the most popular serials on TV during the days DD ruled roost). He looked to be on a drinking spree. Guess howsover big one becomes, free booze is irresistable.

Having observed the entire thing from the sidelines I reallised that very few people had bought the book. Most of the people seemed to be there because in this city it pays to be seen in the right places.

I somehow managed to reach Chandra, who was being haggled by a woman, who wouldn’t let him go. She kept trying to convince him that they knew each other. And he just kept nodding his head. Once she was done, I got my copy of the book autogrpahed.

As I left the Rooftop, a couplet written by Bashir Badr kept looping in my mind,

“ Yahan dikhawe ki keemat hai aadmi ki nahi,
Mujhe gilas bade de, sharaab kam kar de”.