My party planner friend Neeli she’s changed her carrier. Suddenly she’s become Dr Neelam Rehman, psycho therapist. Old Neeli wore polyester jungle prints, long shaggy hair and more chains than Prisoner of Zenda. New Neeli’s hair is scrapped back into a tight sa bun and she has halki si lip gloss and plain cotton ka suit. Aur haan, a doctor’s wallah white coat.
‘Haw Neeli,’ I said, ‘tujhay kya hua? What happened to your Bonanza
Bashes?’ She said, ‘Bus yaar, when I became an event manager only khaata peetas were in this business. Now every light wallah and kursi wallah is a party planner. Hardly anyone can speak English. So I thought chal Neeli, kuch aur karain. First I thought I’d open a beauty saloon. But the thought of training all the waxing waalis and constantly dealing with ‘Baji meri burrday hai 1000 rupees ka advance day daein, pliss’ was too much for my nerves. So I thought koi esa kaam karoon that I can do myself only.
‘One day I saw this add in a magazine that just with a two week ka course you can become a fully pledged pyschotherapist. And you can charge ten thou an hour. So I thought bhai why not? Tau I went off to Singapur and did the course, two hours a day for two weeks. And bus, I came back, tied my hair, had this coat made and lo, Dr Rehman! Aur haan, I had to take a chhoti si oath not to tell my patients’ secrets.’
‘When did you start?’ I asked. ‘Four months ago’. ‘Patients hain?’ ‘Tau aur?’ ‘Like who?’ I asked. ‘Batana nahin chahye, because of that oath, but there’s Champa Feroze’ ‘You mean, Champa the Chor?’ I laughed. ‘She’s actually a klepto, picks up anything,’ said Neeli. ‘Help nahin kar sakti na. She came to me because when she was leaving a party, she slipped on the marble floor, her clutch bag slipped out of her hands, and out rolled a mustard pot and a bottle of Tobasco. In front of everyone.’
‘Haw, so how did you cure her?’
‘I told her jub aap baahar jayen, please don’t carry a bag or wear clothes with pockets.’ ‘Tau theek ho gayee?’ ‘She still sneaks things into her bra, but chhoti cheezain, a coffee spoon, a chaabi. Vaisay too tau friend hai. You won’t tell na?’
‘Haw Neeli cross my heart...’
‘Haw Neeli,’ I said, ‘tujhay kya hua? What happened to your Bonanza
Bashes?’ She said, ‘Bus yaar, when I became an event manager only khaata peetas were in this business. Now every light wallah and kursi wallah is a party planner. Hardly anyone can speak English. So I thought chal Neeli, kuch aur karain. First I thought I’d open a beauty saloon. But the thought of training all the waxing waalis and constantly dealing with ‘Baji meri burrday hai 1000 rupees ka advance day daein, pliss’ was too much for my nerves. So I thought koi esa kaam karoon that I can do myself only.
‘One day I saw this add in a magazine that just with a two week ka course you can become a fully pledged pyschotherapist. And you can charge ten thou an hour. So I thought bhai why not? Tau I went off to Singapur and did the course, two hours a day for two weeks. And bus, I came back, tied my hair, had this coat made and lo, Dr Rehman! Aur haan, I had to take a chhoti si oath not to tell my patients’ secrets.’
‘When did you start?’ I asked. ‘Four months ago’. ‘Patients hain?’ ‘Tau aur?’ ‘Like who?’ I asked. ‘Batana nahin chahye, because of that oath, but there’s Champa Feroze’ ‘You mean, Champa the Chor?’ I laughed. ‘She’s actually a klepto, picks up anything,’ said Neeli. ‘Help nahin kar sakti na. She came to me because when she was leaving a party, she slipped on the marble floor, her clutch bag slipped out of her hands, and out rolled a mustard pot and a bottle of Tobasco. In front of everyone.’
‘Haw, so how did you cure her?’
‘I told her jub aap baahar jayen, please don’t carry a bag or wear clothes with pockets.’ ‘Tau theek ho gayee?’ ‘She still sneaks things into her bra, but chhoti cheezain, a coffee spoon, a chaabi. Vaisay too tau friend hai. You won’t tell na?’
‘Haw Neeli cross my heart...’