Please get this dream out of my head. It is the sort that is disturbing because it is too clear. Rahul Gandhi and Bilawal Bhutto are walking the ramp together at a fashion show in Mumbai. There is a mini stampede as press photographers and television crews compete with each other to get the best angles for their shots.
The most illustrious of our subcontinent have gathered in solidarity. Sharmeen Obaid-Chinoy, Shobhaa De, Fawad Khan and Karan Johar are cheering from the audience. Right behind them are Tavleen Singh, Adnan Sami, Anurag Kashyap, and Smriti Irani. And hey - isn’t that Feryal Gauhar? Everyone is asking: ‘Where are Mani Shankar Aiyar and Sudheendra Kulkarni? They missed this!’
The designer is coming up on stage. Hold your breath - it is none other than Michelle Obama. And this ramp, surprisingly, is right in the middle of Dharavi. Yes, the place that is obnoxiously called Asia’s largest slum though it is a hub of creativity and enterprise.
Why Dharavi? I wonder. Perhaps the organisers wanted to build mass support for a peace movement. If you manage to figure out the reason, please let me know. I am still trying to understand why the Yamuna river allowed an ecological disaster, masquerading as a cultural festival, to be organized on her banks.
Speaking of Dharavi, my friend Samantha was really keen on going there. Before she flew in from California, she had her itinerary chalked out. “I don’t want to miss the slum tour,” she said. “I want to have meaningful local experiences that aren’t available back home. And look - it’s a steal - only 400 dollars, and it will be like being on the sets of Slumdog Millionaire.”
Of course, it must have been a tough decision to make. A strong contender for her time was the Veermata Jijabai Udyaan - the zoo in Byculla where my school buddies once tried feeding potato chips to a monkey. Back then, we used to call it Rani Baug. Not the one from Jhansi but our colonial rani sahiba - Victoria begum. It has been renamed after Maratha warrior Shivaji’s mother Jijabai.
The zoo was certainly a cheaper option but it wouldn’t give Samantha any delicious stories to report back home, so she picked the slum tour.
My friend, Bilal, dragged me to this art exhibition I had no interest in. His sole purpose in being there was to bump into someone he had been crushing on.
“Who is it? Tell me,” I insisted.
He said, “Wait and watch, you impatient person!”
About half an hour later, the object of his affection came in wearing a blue kurta, and the look of being in two parallel universes at the same time. It was a young man with salt and pepper hair, who introduced himself as someone working on a historical novel.
“This must be the most daunting century for any novelist,” he declared. “My publisher has more feedback on my social media skills than on my writing.” He has been instructed to post on his Facebook page at least thrice a week. It could be historical trivia, a teaser from the book, or anything that could help sell the novel.
Bilal later mentioned that he could smell a mix of rose petals and cigarette smoke on the writer bloke. I had a cold, so my nose did not pick that up. Anyway, I hope some of the Facebook fans are also potential buyers.
What would Intizar Husain, the great Pakistani writer, have said to this novelist? We can only make an informed guess. Perhaps he would empathise with the agony, and also console the chap.
A few days ago, I was chatting with Rakshanda Jalil who won the Karachi Literature Festival Peace Prize for translating Intizar Sahab’s book ‘Aagay Samandar Hai’ into English. She recalled one of her meetings with Intizar Sahab in Delhi when she was interviewing him for a publication.
Apparently, he told her, “Humse achchhe toh Ghalib thay.Woh apna likh ke chale gaye. Woh zamaana alag tha. Koi khatoon poochhne nahin aati thi - Iska matlab kya hai,uske mayne kya hai?” (Ghalib was better off than me. He wrote and went away. That was a different era. No lady would come and ask him - What does this mean? What does that imply?”)
Hmm. Those were the days.
Chintan Girish Modi is a Mumbai-based writer. That he shares his last name with a Prime Minister is purely a matter of coincidence. He tweets at @chintan_connect
The most illustrious of our subcontinent have gathered in solidarity. Sharmeen Obaid-Chinoy, Shobhaa De, Fawad Khan and Karan Johar are cheering from the audience. Right behind them are Tavleen Singh, Adnan Sami, Anurag Kashyap, and Smriti Irani. And hey - isn’t that Feryal Gauhar? Everyone is asking: ‘Where are Mani Shankar Aiyar and Sudheendra Kulkarni? They missed this!’
The designer is coming up on stage. Hold your breath - it is none other than Michelle Obama. And this ramp, surprisingly, is right in the middle of Dharavi. Yes, the place that is obnoxiously called Asia’s largest slum though it is a hub of creativity and enterprise.
Why Dharavi? I wonder. Perhaps the organisers wanted to build mass support for a peace movement. If you manage to figure out the reason, please let me know. I am still trying to understand why the Yamuna river allowed an ecological disaster, masquerading as a cultural festival, to be organized on her banks.
"My publisher has more feedback on my social media skills than on my writing"
***
Speaking of Dharavi, my friend Samantha was really keen on going there. Before she flew in from California, she had her itinerary chalked out. “I don’t want to miss the slum tour,” she said. “I want to have meaningful local experiences that aren’t available back home. And look - it’s a steal - only 400 dollars, and it will be like being on the sets of Slumdog Millionaire.”
Of course, it must have been a tough decision to make. A strong contender for her time was the Veermata Jijabai Udyaan - the zoo in Byculla where my school buddies once tried feeding potato chips to a monkey. Back then, we used to call it Rani Baug. Not the one from Jhansi but our colonial rani sahiba - Victoria begum. It has been renamed after Maratha warrior Shivaji’s mother Jijabai.
The zoo was certainly a cheaper option but it wouldn’t give Samantha any delicious stories to report back home, so she picked the slum tour.
***
My friend, Bilal, dragged me to this art exhibition I had no interest in. His sole purpose in being there was to bump into someone he had been crushing on.
“Who is it? Tell me,” I insisted.
He said, “Wait and watch, you impatient person!”
About half an hour later, the object of his affection came in wearing a blue kurta, and the look of being in two parallel universes at the same time. It was a young man with salt and pepper hair, who introduced himself as someone working on a historical novel.
“This must be the most daunting century for any novelist,” he declared. “My publisher has more feedback on my social media skills than on my writing.” He has been instructed to post on his Facebook page at least thrice a week. It could be historical trivia, a teaser from the book, or anything that could help sell the novel.
Bilal later mentioned that he could smell a mix of rose petals and cigarette smoke on the writer bloke. I had a cold, so my nose did not pick that up. Anyway, I hope some of the Facebook fans are also potential buyers.
***
What would Intizar Husain, the great Pakistani writer, have said to this novelist? We can only make an informed guess. Perhaps he would empathise with the agony, and also console the chap.
A few days ago, I was chatting with Rakshanda Jalil who won the Karachi Literature Festival Peace Prize for translating Intizar Sahab’s book ‘Aagay Samandar Hai’ into English. She recalled one of her meetings with Intizar Sahab in Delhi when she was interviewing him for a publication.
Apparently, he told her, “Humse achchhe toh Ghalib thay.Woh apna likh ke chale gaye. Woh zamaana alag tha. Koi khatoon poochhne nahin aati thi - Iska matlab kya hai,uske mayne kya hai?” (Ghalib was better off than me. He wrote and went away. That was a different era. No lady would come and ask him - What does this mean? What does that imply?”)
Hmm. Those were the days.
Chintan Girish Modi is a Mumbai-based writer. That he shares his last name with a Prime Minister is purely a matter of coincidence. He tweets at @chintan_connect