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…..