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sitanshi talati-parikh

sitanshi talati-parikh

Category Archives: Publication: Verve Magazine

Literature: The Passionate Scotsman

26 Friday Jan 2007

Posted by sitanshi talati-parikh in Art, Literature & Culture, Interviews (All), Interviews: The Arts, Publication: Verve Magazine

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Interview, Literature, vervemagazine, William Dalrymple

Published: Verve Magazine, Speaking Volumes, January 2007
Photograph: Dia Mehta

He seamlessly translates his obsession with history into words. At the launch of his latest tome – The Last Moghul – in Mumbai, William Dalrymple zooms in on the contemporary literary diaspora and its impact on the West. Sitanshi Talati-Parikh gets upfront and personal with the veteran novelist

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I read through some parts of a 500-page historic tome and then stop to wonder what the writer, William Dalrymple, himself would be like. A hearty, jovial Scotsman was definitely not in the reckoning, but there he was, merrily sipping wine and chuckling away at every opportune moment.

“‘Why India and why Delhi’, is a question that always intrigues me,” muses William Dalrymple. “It implies that India and Delhi are not places where one would naturally prefer to live. One doesn’t think that way about New York or London. It implies as if India is second best!” He laughs heartily at the fact that English journalists never ask him this question. But scribes from Delhi and Mumbai often have this query and seek answers from him.

The Last Moghul, on the sepoy mutiny during the British Raj, was drawn from a collection of 20,000 Urdu and Persian documents stored in the National Archives in Delhi. Dalrymple collaborated with two other scholars who helped him unravel the material written in these languages and scripts. “The physical writing is mine, but the actual work, thoughts and ideas that we thrashed out over many cups of National Archives’ chai and Kareem’s kebabs was equally Mahmood’s [Farooqui] as it was mine,” he states unequivocally.

As we discuss the nature of religion affecting the uprising, Dalrymple suggests that every historian writes history imprisoned in his own time. Like he himself discovered that, in the aftermath of 9/11 and Ayodhya where one sees religious matters animating people to resistance and violence, the Delhi documents were overwhelmingly one of religious causes. To his surprise, he also found a latent jihadi element: the Delhi uprising didn’t talk about the angrez, as much as it discussed the Christians and the kafirs (infidels).

Though Dalrymple disagrees that this book serves to talk about the present or the future, he does believe that history repeats itself. There are clear lessons, and while sitting in the library researching this, the story had been played out every day in the newspapers. “At the basic level,” he says, “if in the West, you mess around with the East, invade it, the chickens will come home to roost!” He is bemused by the Americans’ surprise: it is not shocking if one country takes over people of another nation, impinges on the freedom of people, dominates their economies and their lives, it is bound to have repercussions. “So,” he emphasises, “you find a completely erroneous depiction of history of unbridgeable divides of civilisation, of eternal clashes between a free, democratic, liberal, Judeo-Christian West and the imperial, aggressive, irrational East.”

It took a Scotsman passionate about Indian history to notice the wealth of information lost to people in the dusty archives. Dalrymple is shocked that 75 per cent of material that they uncovered from the department had never been requisitioned before. He exclaims, “This is the National Archives in the Indian capital, with documents on practically the biggest event in 19th century history where the anti-colonial vote was the largest in this city than anywhere in the world, and there was no interest in exploring it. That to me is utterly, utterly extraordinary!”

Dalrymple believes that one of the reasons that a major piece of world history was more-or-less his to unfold and write about, was the lack of familiarity with Urdu or Persian by scholars and historians of today. “It is a great privilege to be in this position. But it is not as it should be. It shouldn’t be a white Englishman unravelling a major piece of Indian history.”

The writer who has lived in Delhi for 20 years, and claims modestly to know Hindi “thodi, thodi,” suddenly jumps up excitedly and asks me about Kiran Desai. Reading aloud from The Inheritance of Loss, he speaks with pleasure of the desis in New York, the taxi and delivery boys. On a serious note, he says, “The diaspora are mediating India for the West.” Kiran Desai, according to him, is a New Yorker. The last book, written by an Indian, in India, which really made it in the West, was The God of Small Things. He believes that one does not need to be validated by the recognition of the West to be an artist. Accepting that writing in a regional language may be superior to one of these Indian novels in English, he feels that Indians are no longer producing artistic work that creates an impact on the West. Thereafter follows the discussion over whether one should privilege ethnicity over experience: Shantaram is considered to be a far more realistic portrait of Mumbai than Suketu Mehta’s Maximum City.

The historian, whose first travel out of Scotland was to the subcontinent, is optimistic, but believes that the jury’s out on India. Whilst there are “extraordinary cities rising out of the deserts,” there are still some major unresolved issues like the “criminality of politics, caste issues and cranky infrastructure.” Dalrymple is surprised that Pakistan has much better infrastructure than India. He describes the big difference between the two countries is that every year India’s literacy rate creeps up: this is the factor that will determine the subcontinent’s future prosperity and Pakistan’s uncertainty.

The controversial writer is proud of how easily his family has adjusted to India. His wife, Olivia, an artist, speaks better Hindi than he does, and his three children go to school in Delhi, hang out at the Red Fort, watch Dhoom:2, spend Christmas at the Tiracol Fort in Goa, weekends in Jaipur and summers in the UK. “I like walking. The frustration about living in a place like Delhi is that for most part of the year, the climate over here is not conducive for walking. There are moments in May when I am at a loss, wondering why I live in this country!” he laughs. Dalrymple considers Delhi home and Mumbai a place where he comes for fun, with a meal at Trishna, walk on the beach in Juhu and friends to visit.

Exhausted after producing “two big fatties” in five years, William Dalrymple looks forward to taking a year off, doing bits of journalism and attending literary festivals in beach resorts. He eloquently anticipates a reading at the moonlit Diwan-e-Khas in January. Already next on the list are a collection of Indo-centric religious journals, with sections on countries like Pakistan and Palestine; and a book on Akbar soon to follow. Quietly pleased with the appreciation of his work, this Scotsman, who has discovered a passion for the history of the Indian subcontinent, is determined to uncover more stones left unturned.

Travel blog: Guilin

23 Tuesday Jan 2007

Posted by sitanshi talati-parikh in Publication: Verve Magazine, Travel Stories

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China, Guilin, Interviews: Travel, River Li, Verve Magazine

Published: Verve Magazine, Travel, January 2007

Sitanshi Talati-Parikh lets her imagination fly in this southern China town, dominated by winding waterways and pre-historic caves

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I play an interesting game in my mind: I’m a small girl living on the river banks of the Lijiang, growing up amidst the silhouettes of the hills that aspire to be mountains and call a little hut by the riverside home, with the bare minimum required for life. Patched clothes, scraggy knees, strong limbs and a smile that could ride the peaks.

I scamper along the foggy river, watching the karsts (limestone hills) swim by, and discover a home amongst the pagoda-capped Elephant Trunk Hill and Chuanshan (hill with a hole). Coming close to the Erlang Gorge, I look for the nine horses in the famous Picture Hill. At Huangbu (Yellow Cloth) Beach, I am bathed in chrome hues, as the river widens and you can see seven graceful peaks that resemble seven serene young girls. The legendary Xingping Wonderland soon begins and the Caishi Hill, with thick bamboo groves, emerges steadily in front of the ancient town.

Time does fly and so does the imagination. This river is what dreams, verse and myriad paintings are made of. You can wind around the jade ribbon forever, lying awake in mystical anticipation of a life that is so removed from the real world until you are rudely awakened by salesmen. They slide alongside the river cruiser on scanty wooden rafts, knocking on windows, reaching out to the balcony, selling their curios and haggling in a language that needs no language. Jade sculptures, hand-painted Chinese fans, Beijing 2008 Olympics T-shirts. Commercialisation hits even the most serene locations.

The cruise stops at the vibrant market town, Yangshuo, brimming with little stores and cobbled restaurants that can simply swallow tourists up. In comparison, the town of Guilin (an hour’s flight from Shanghai) is charming and contained. A different sort of life flows here, by the riverside, with restaurants, bars and trendy boutique shops, hugging the embankment. As I stroll down later that night on the Zhengyang Pedestrian Street, the walking street in the main city centre, I feel like a tourist who has come home. Picking up the latest style accessories fashioned by local brands or grabbing a martini and pizza at an open-air restaurant, sipping to the sounds of live pop music lends the city an international flavour.

Located in the north-east of Guangxi Zhuang Autonomous Region, this southern China town is famous not only for its beautiful hills and waterways, but also for its extraordinary caves. I munch on a fresh sugarcane stalk and eye the baked sweet potato stalls at the foothill of the Reed Flute Cave. The cave, though spectacular in its limestone formations, appears ethereal due to clever lighting effects. The Seven-Star-Rock Cave, deriving its name from the neighbouring peaks that bear resemblance to the Great Bear constellation, is as interesting as the geological finds in the Stone Museum.

The people of Guilin are nothing if not imaginative. They see patterns and figures and count symbols amongst all the garrulous formations and mountains. Caves that speak of a different time are all nestled in these hills, hewn with imagery and Buddhist sculptures. Their creativity spans into their handicrafts, the beautiful spun silks, the inviting pearls and the clever marketing skills of those who sell these wares.

As I breakfast on the famous Guilin rice noodles, I learn to savour the flavours of the region and the sauce that is made from over 30 special Chinese herbs. The stir-fried and steamed cuisine is known for its sweetness and delicate use of spice and chilli. Despite my brave palate, I am wary of the wild plants and animals, which often find their way into the food of the region like the huge jar of snake wine on our cruiser!

Xi’an’s Treasure Trove

23 Tuesday Jan 2007

Posted by sitanshi talati-parikh in Publication: Verve Magazine, Travel Stories

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China, Interviews: Travel, Terracotta Warriors, Verve Magazine, Xi'an

Published: Verve Magazine, January 2007

Sitanshi Talati-Parikh watches an eighth wonder of the world unfold before her eyes

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They were like worker bees or ants, methodical, diligent and hard working. They are all lined up before me, steadfast and eager to rise in the ranks or in the world. Commanding attention, whilst also at attention, ready to take off at a moment’s shot. I could be talking as much about the Chinese army as the recently discovered – and generally considered – eighth wonder of the world, the life-size terra-cotta warriors of Xi’an. On October 1, 1979 Emperor QinShihuang’s Terracotta Museum was opened to the public. Over 1,000 restored terracotta warriors and horses were displayed and the formerly sleepy XiYang village is now world-renowned.

At first dig, a hand came up along with the mud. Soon after, a weapon, followed by a broken face smeared with burn marks. The call of alert given by a local farmer, quickly brought in the archaeological team, which began their explorations and excavations. Famous for his discovery, the wisened old man is alive to this date, signing many autographs and pictures in the archaic museum.

The history of the Qin Dynasty has now unfolded before the people. Emperor Qin spent nearly 40 years (247 BC to 208 BC) constructing his underground mausoleum, around which the life-size terra-cotta warriors stood guard, like faithful soldiers. The emperor believed that life under the ground was a continuation of life on earth. Even when it appeared as if they had reached rock bottom, these workers, under the order of the emperor, kept going. Despite the aggressive and extensive efforts, Emperor Qin died at the age of 50, unable to see the completion of his tomb. Many of the tomb builders were also buried alive, along with thousands of officials, in order to keep the tomb secret.

Emperor Qin Shihuang’s search for immortality lives to this day in his mausoleum, which was actually an underground treasure trove. The tomb was a subterranean palace with a protective outer wall 6,210 metres in perimeter on the ground level. Within this area was an inner wall that surrounded the burial mound. Both the walls had watchtowers and gates. The burial mound was 115 metres high over 2,000 years ago. With the passage of time, it has been reduced to two-third of its original size. It was later learnt (since the original discovery in 1974) that three underground pits, traversing an area of 22,000 square metres, contain an estimated 8,000 life-size ceramic warriors and horses.

As I tour the factory that describes the restoration process, I learn that all the terracotta figures were fashioned from local clay, weighing anything from 110 to 300 kilos each, with an average height of 1.8 metres. In the pits, the terracotta warriors and horses are arrayed in a practical battle formation, with different ranks of the army, ready to protect and serve. Their distinctive dress, demeanour, size and weapons display their ranking, ranging from generals, officers, soldiers, charioteers, cavalrymen, kneeling and standing archers, with bronze birds and implements accompanying them.

The interactive movie brought the period alive, where according to reports, XiangYu, a rebel in the Qin Dynasty, burnt Emperor Qin’s palace and mausoleum in 206 BC. The fire damaged the pits and the buckled roof pressed the terracotta warriors and horses into ruin. When uncovered, fragments and broken remains were all that remained, which created a mammoth task of restoration for the archaeologists, with each statue often taking months to be mended and restored. The story of this world wonder parallels that of the People’s Republic of China, reminding one that history does repeat itself, often in strange ways. The country is being pushed by its current president for a different kind of immortality – that of a nation’s supremacy over the world, where the ability of the common man to join together and work in cohesion for something greater, will serve as a landmark reminder of a wonder yet to come. One only hopes that nothing gets burnt along the way.

Travel blog: The Forbidden City of the Dragon Lady (Beijing, China)

23 Tuesday Jan 2007

Posted by sitanshi talati-parikh in Publication: Verve Magazine, Travel Stories

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Beijing, China, Food, Great Wall of China, Interviews: Travel, Tian'anmen Square, Verve Magazine

Published: Verve Magazine, Travel, January 2007

Meandering through the oriental imperial gardens at the Summer Palace, digging into spicy Sichuan-style cuisine and watching an emotional tableau at the Red Theatre, in Beijing, Sitanshi Talati-Parikh finds herself riveted by the magnificent historical aura of the Chinese capital

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The subdued historic capital of the People’s Republic of China is coloured bright with the anticipation of hosting the Games of the XXIX Olympiad in 2008. Steeped in history, this city hasn’t shed its old-world charm, whilst donning the garb of modernism. With memories of the past lurking in every corner and tourist site, Beijing is exciting for its strange and unsettling tenor of an ardent hold on the past and an unequivocal desire to be a forerunner of the future. I could feel this fill up my senses as I walked through the X-O line that divides it from east to west and is the heart of the city, on which lies its history….

DAY 1
8 a.m. TIAN’ANMEN SQUARE
In the light of the early morning sun, the Square, which is usually crowded with jostling tourists and insistent peddlers, is serene at this hour. I am lucky enough to catch the ritual national flag-raising ceremony at daybreak, where the largest square on earth celebrates the dawn of a new day and the beginning of an era. On October 1, 1949, the founding of the People’s Republic of China was solemnly proclaimed here and since then it has become the symbol of China and its capital, Beijing. Symbolism is prevalent in every aspect of this city, as I discover in my first lesson. My well-informed guide announces that the national flag is red in colour, as a reminder of the bloodshed that took place here and the yellow stars signify peace, harmony and freedom.

9 a.m. FORBIDDEN CITY
The fact that the name makes it sound mysterious and exciting adds to the fact that this metropolis has indeed seen a lot in its time. It was the imperial palace during the Ming and Qing dynasties. Over a span of more than 560 years, 24 emperors called this home. It is the largest and the most complete complex of ancient palatial structures in existence, covering 7,20,000 square metres. Walking the X-O from Tian’anmen you reach the Forbidden City. With only one entrance and one exit, anyone who enters must complete the journey in order to leave! I learn that it was decree that to maintain the power of the imperial palace, no bright colours were to be used in its vicinity. Royal colours were only meant for the area inside the Forbidden City. It makes me wonder, whether the life inside the imperial palace was as rosy as its colouring, whilst the life outside remained as dull as its grey exterior.

11 a.m. SUMMER PALACE
The place slowly opened up to me. Situated at the foot of Xishan Mountain in Beijing, the Summer Palace, originally called the Garden of Clear Ripples, began to be built in 1750. Covering an area of 2.9 million square metres, it is chiefly formed by the Longevity Hall and the Kunming Lake. There is also the Suzhou Street, Garden of Harmonious Interests and the Longest Corridor in the world. Whilst embodying the style of oriental imperial gardens, is also an artificial lake. The Chinese believed that the beauty of a place should not appear immediately, but should unfold slowly, like the chapter of a book or a beautiful poem. The majesty of the place lies in its spacious exteriors and intricate interiors. The emperor was so moved by the landscape of Southern China, that he painted thousands of murals of this scenery in the Summer Palace. Moving through time, you slowly begin to imagine living here and the past begins to come alive. The story of the Dragon Lady unfolds: the queen who wielded command over the people for 48 years through two young emperors (her son and subsequently her nephew). When the nephew rebelled, he was imprisoned in the imperial palace and that is from where the prison derived its name. I surveyed the grounds through the lookout areas in the corridors, restored to its past elegance, where women, who couldn’t walk around openly would find a place to view the outside world. In a time when women were restricted, the Dragon Lady had found the ability to create an imperial prison for a prince!

1 p.m. IN A SOUP
In the moment of truth – the first lunch in the middle of the city, in a country of ten thousand cuisines, that is rumoured to be the bane of Indian vegetarians, I looked for sustenance. From a choice of noodle or dumpling restaurants, I managed to pull out a Sichuan-style meal, which to my astonishment, was not only palatable but also delicious. From then on, the food mantra was “Sichuan,” which meant food from the Sichuan province – hot and spicy!

2 p.m. TEMPLE OF HEAVEN
Rejuvenated, I thought I had had my fill of history, as I trudged up the long walkway and enormous flight of stairs with aching feet. Everything in this megapolis was generously laid out. As I looked at the well-kept pastures surrounding the walkway, I asked my guide what these beautiful grounds had been used for. I was shocked at her unflinching reply, “breeding ground for sacrificial cattle!” Emperors would sacrifice an animal to please the gods in this Temple of Heaven. As I climbed up to the top, I surveyed the serene country before me, one that had seen bloodshed of many sorts, to one that now had camera-clicking tourists scampering around for a piece of history and a part of heaven.

4 p.m. SHOPPING FOR 2007
In this buzzing metropolis, I discovered that there are ample places to shop. I scouted the Silk Street, Panjiyuan Market and Hongqiao Pearl Market amongst others for hidden treasures. Easily diverted by the ‘magic trick’ peddlers, I am now the proud owner of curios of a bygone era.

8 p.m. PEKING ROAST DUCK
A die-hard vegetarian, this is one thing I left untried and accepted the verdict from my husband. Eating Peking Roast Duck is considered as much a must-do, as climbing the Great Wall! Immersed in condiments, roasted over an open flame, it is served with Chinese onions and a special plum sauce.

10 p.m. SINGING FOR THE MONEY
As night-time arrives, for music lovers, Beijing is the prize catch with the capital’s very own international festival with musicians and performances from Chinese to Russian and from BBC Symphonies to Mozart. The renowned Peking Opera is my choice for an authentic Oriental experience: a breathtaking performance of song, spoken dialogue and movements. For those who miss the 7 p.m. show, let your hair down on the Bar Street to the tune of worldwide music including rock, jazz, blues, country, pop and folk.

DAY 2
9 a.m. BEIJING BREAKFAST
If the sumptuous hotel buffets don’t do it for you, then grab the popular local snack off the streets. Sold by vendors, this pancake, into which an omelette of vegetables, sauces and spices is folded, is a quick and easy meal on the way to greater heights.

10 a.m. MING TOMBS
Quite missable except for the beauty of the walk and the view from the top!

12 p.m. THE JOY OF PORCELAIN
I was amazed at the intricacy and delicacy of the work involved in making the famed Chinese porcelain. It was not possible to resist buying, buying and buying…!

2 p.m. THE GREAT WALL OF CHINA
Autumn is considered one of the best times to visit the Great Wall, to view the change in foliage, but this wonder of human civilisation remains breathtaking all year round. Its construction began in the seventh and eighth centuries B.C. During the period of over 2,000 years, more than 20 dukes or princes and feudal dynasties contributed to the building of the Great Wall. Stretching 3,950 miles, the huge monument was built as a defensive structure.
The most well maintained and popular section is at Badaling, 50 miles north of Beijing and over 2,625 feet above sea level, but its magnitude and beauty can also be seen from more remote locations like Jinshanling, Mutianyu and Simatai. At any spot, however, climbing the wall is worth it, just to view the beautiful landscape that is China and a way to marvel at the feat that took thousands of years and millions of people to complete.

5 p.m. WHERE THE ROADS MEET
The Chinese capital consists of an eclectic mix of old and new styles of architecture. These contrasting designs can be noticed at the Dashanzi Art District. The city holds everything from dull grey monotonous buildings and beautiful ancient structures to modern skyscrapers. For the most upmarket address, drive down the Avenue of Eternal Peace and check out the luxurious hotels and buildings.

7 p.m. PAINTING THE TOWN RED
As if the wonders of the world were not enough, I am once more bowled over: this time by the brilliant Kung Fu show at the Red Theatre. The story describes the process of becoming a monk, training from childhood, the trials and tribulations and then passing the test of a warrior monk, brought to life with excellent live performances, brilliant lighting and stage effects.

11 p.m. BEIJING REFLECTIONS
As I prepared to say goodbye, I felt a sense of completeness, as if I had experienced the past and been shuttled back to the present. I peered down at the busy streets and reflected that here was a city where history had been made and one in which the glory of its heydays had not dimmed in the light of its future accomplishments.

The Main Course is French! (Shanghai, China)

23 Saturday Dec 2006

Posted by sitanshi talati-parikh in Publication: Verve Magazine, Travel Stories

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China, Interviews: Travel, Shanghai, Verve Magazine

Published: Verve Magazine, Rambling Reporter, December 2006

A smattering of ramshackle buildings amidst the gleaming skyscrapers in Shanghai makes Sitanshi Talati-Parikh wonder how the city grew from ugly and dwarfed to tall, splendid and oh, so cosmopolitan, in just over a decade

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As I landed in the city that is the poster child of the modern world, I held my breath until I could espy the snaking highways and the splendid buildings. I recalled seeing a row of symmetric buildings read: boring) from the plane, and a few dilapidated structures whilst being stuck in the traffic on the highway… and the tension gnawed at my insides. All along, this place, this city, is what I had been waiting for, with an innate knowledge that it would be simply outstanding. They all told me it would. I couldn’t be so sorely let down?

Secretly though, I wasn’t sure if I was happy or sorry to be unfazed by this city. It didn’t look like much – and I had given it all of 15 minutes! I refused to believe that any city held together by socialist-communism could offer a better way of life than a democratic one. My views were challenged every minute that I spent in unarguably the most modern city of the world. As I held onto my possibly jaded view, I saw the New World Order.

The city sneaked up on me. Slowly but surely it began to grow, like hunger or a snake uncoiling itself. It began to get bigger, bigger than I had ever imagined, and better, better than I had ever seen before. I tried to run away from it, afraid it would engulf me, but it towered over me at every opportunity. Even standing atop the tallest Asian TV Tower (Orient Pearl), looking down upon the city didn’t make it any less overpowering….

As my father raved about the city at every opportune moment, I would respond with a diatribe – the highways were excellent, but the traffic was still too much; the people were hardworking and intelligent, but they couldn’t piece a word of English together and the locals were a rowdy and uncultured lot. The government wants the city to grow, the country to prosper and the people to be well cared for, but it’s communist!

And suddenly it just didn’t seem so bad to me. Could all of this be so miserable? I recall the hungry eyes of the children on the streets of my hometown, and I compare it to the satisfied gleam on the faces of the youth of China. What had my so-called democracy done that was better than this? Our freedom of speech was not feeding the poor and making them happier! As the per capita income rose, the people in Shanghai grew wealthier. They were well provided and cared for.

Our hotel was plush and luxurious, and it was one amongst the many luxury hotels that vied for attention. It reeked of comfort and wealth, as did the fabulous multi-cuisine restaurants that you could choose from. From Italian wine and Mexican margaritas to Spanish tapas, Japanese sushi and French main courses, Indian dessert and Chinese tea, you could pick a cuisine from a myriad places on the globe. If the tastes were simpler and more local, you could just walk down on one of the smaller streets and pick up some dumplings or skewers.

Finishing a long drawn out meal at Giovanni’s, on the 27th floor of the Sheraton Grand, my father wistfully pointed out the glittering lights below. “Doesn’t that remind you of the Queen’s necklace?” Instinctively, I reacted with a, Yeah, right! It seemed like a role reversal. I was, in barely a few days, intensely cynical of the town that brought me up, and in awe of this city of lights.

Somehow, celebrating Diwali on the Shanghai-by-night river cruise, alive with sparkle, flavour and culture, didn’t seem out of place. This was a city totally livable – by anyone. As if to prove a point, little boats chugged by all day, on Shanghai’s Huangpu River, with enormous TV screens flashing a new lifestyle.

The city is truly cosmopolitan, in its own right. America has hit Shanghai (and China for that matter) pretty hard. Even obscure American franchises dotted the Eastern landscape; Chinese fashions were a culmination of Western haute couture with an extra zing and smaller sizes! That was very evident by the upcoming Shanghai Fashion Week that I happened to be right in time for. (Must-buy from China’s first upscale global brand, Shanghai Tang).

There is Halloween around, and the locals groove to Western pop music without understanding a word of the songs! It’s surprising to see a Starbucks inside a traditional Qing-dynasty architectural structure. Has America arrived in China, or is it the other way around? In a city where the subway system was yet to be integrated in whole, the roads were packed with cars from every country imaginable. Was I in New York or Shanghai? Subtitle the hoardings, pump up the highways, de-slant the eyes and you wouldn’t know the difference.

For a city that opened to the world after the Opium War, where foreign adventurers set up trading firms and mansions on the Bund (still the happening spot in town) from the proceeds of Opium trafficking, today, the skyscrapers in the city house the well-off middle class, while the rich live in plush villas in the suburbs, along with the poor. Whether walking on the Bund and the beautiful riverside promenade or on the streets of old Shanghai, with the Yu Gardens, Jade Buddha Temple and teahouses, one can marvel at how far this city has come.

I was incredulous as I saw the smattering of ramshackle buildings amidst the gleaming skyscrapers. I asked our tour guide – how in the world does the city go from ugly and dwarfed to tall and splendid in a span of just over a decade? The answer seemed unbelievably systematic – the government provided the residents of the buildings (that were to be razed down) with alternate housing, and replaced the old buildings with better ones! Easier said than done? Not quite! Rules and regulations were accepted, as a way of life, not something to be troubled by. The city reminded me of the brilliant Chinese acrobatic show I saw that evening – balanced gingerly on a pole of socialist-communism, but landing upright every time, not wavering even once.

Despite the cocoon of luxury, any tourist to Shanghai only wants one thing. A bargain, or many of them! The renowned Shanghai flea market is what we wanted, with a burning sense of need and urgency. The itch to bargain hit us like we’d been forewarned, like never before, not even on Mumbai’s ‘Fashion Street’. It didn’t take but a few seconds for that desire to be blown apart, when we were sorely informed that the ‘fakes’ had been taken off the roads. The flea market was eradicated in June. But we were welcome to shop at the government authorised malls. Malls? Why in the world would one go to malls in China? Malls, which were better than those in America…. Buzzing glass elevators that climbed like purring felines, shops that held one in awe, the sizes of which simply extended to the end of the earth.

To our enormous relief, Nanjing Road (the walking street, where one can take a little tourist motor train, but not any other form of vehicle) gave us local shops and boutiques… and hawkers. The hawkers that were like the plague; they ensnared us and led us into shady little alleys where following a dizzying ride up rickety stairs and hidden closets, you discovered that the fake hadn’t quite deserted Shanghai – it was just concealed from the naked eye. Polo, Abercrombie, Burberry, Gucci and the lot still flourished here, originally fake.

This made me wonder…. Maybe it was my purely democratic fantasy that refused to let me accept otherwise. Just as the fake Gucci was hidden, was the other side of life in this mystical country hidden from us too? We, the wide-eyed tourists, who came with a desire to see the People’s Republic of China in action, saw one side of the proverbial coin. Was the coin transparent or were we seeing exactly what they wanted us to see?

Literature: The World Cannot Become Uniform (Vikram Chandra)

26 Thursday Oct 2006

Posted by sitanshi talati-parikh in Art, Literature & Culture, Interviews (All), Interviews: The Arts, Publication: Verve Magazine

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Indian Fiction, Interview, Literature, Sacred Games, vervemagazine, Vikram Chandra

Published: Verve Magazine, Features, September-October 2006
Photograph: Gaurav Bhat

Straddling two continents, wordsmith, Vikram Chandra is deeply inspired by Indian mythology and epics. In Mumbai for the release of his latest offering, Sacred Games, the award-winning US-based author speaks about modernity and ‘Indianness’ in a tête-à-tête with SITANSHI TALATI-PARIKH

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Muted conversations, tinkling of wine glasses, dusk setting in saw the world-wide book launch of eminent writer, Vikram Chandra’s much awaited third literary offering, Sacred Games, in Mumbai at the Hilton Towers’ Rooftop. Early the next day, at the suburban Taj Lands End, Mumbai, a conversation enfolded with the award-winning novelist who surfaces in the world of words (earlier works are Red Earth and Pouring Rain and Love and Longing in Bombay) after a long sabbatical. I had to ask – why so many years before another novel – seven in the making. He replies with alacrity, “I’m just slow, very slow. It does take some perseverance and a large degree of obsession!” This trait is remarkable in the little man with precise and fluent thoughts and a great deal of patience. As the dialogue swirls around lengths and time, Chandra states that writers have their own best lengths. “I did short stories as an experiment,” he says, “to see if they would work, but even those got really long! For me, long length is natural.”

It becomes very clear that the California-based Chandra is, as one can tell from his writing, deeply inspired by Indian mythology, the epics and other magical tales. “What forms us when we are young and growing up, stays with us,” is his strong belief.

Born and brought up in India, but having left for the States out of sheer frustration at not being able to find a good course in creative writing (when he followed poet, Nissim Ezekiel, around), Chandra did his undergraduate degree magna cum laude in English. He looks back and wonders: “Before going abroad, you live in your own parochial world and somehow think that you are universal; that you are like the person on the other side of the world. Once there, within the first couple of days, you realise that you are talking in different languages, even though everyone is supposedly speaking English!

Since then, he has been studying, working and living in America, with frequent visits to the city close to his heart, Mumbai. As a professor of creative writing at the University of California, Berkeley, he finds the cross-cultural mingling stimulating and educational for both sides. He marvels at the rapid changes in India too, “The modern urban Indian is a very different creature from the modern urban New Yorker. In a world that’s rapidly globalising and seemingly getting smaller, we are also fragmenting more and more and the polarities are growing more intense.”

What is his concept of ‘Indian’, then? What we think of as ‘Indian’ is actually the result of many, many changes all through the ages, Chandra explains. He points out that to talk of an unchanging Indianness and the nostalgia for an unchanging past and subsequent stability is itself a falsehood. Brooding about the changing nature of society, Chandra insists that “the world cannot become uniform, even if it is a smaller place”. He predicts an increase of the parochial and the local or an urban niche. “The seemingly contradictory thing,” he says, “is that even as we become more modern, we become more tribal.”

Chandra often and wistfully recalls the days when he and his friend, Anuradha Tandon started the adda in Goa Portuguesa, a restaurant in Mumbai, as a meeting ground for young thinkers and artists. He notes with some amusement that while the Mumbaiites would be dedicatedly taking part in discussions that went on into the wee hours of the morning, their American counterparts in DC, would rush off home by 9 p.m., since the next day was a working day. With barely concealed enthusiasm, he states, “It really was amazing and a lot of fun! That kind of cross-pollination and conversation is really helpful for all kinds of people – really good things came out of that.”

With the turmoil prevalent in the world around, Chandra believes that in some ways it’s a really good time to be a writer because there is so much turbulence and change. The material that is offered to you, that you come by – although it is often painful – is really rich. “In some sense, every book that I have written is a response to what is going on around me,” he says.

Coming from a family that is prolific in the arts, it is no surprise that he is also greatly influenced by the people around him. While his mother, Kamna Chandra, a playwright for All India Radio at the time, was concerned about how all her children would make a living by choosing a vocation in the arts, the entire family came together as a great support system for each other. The atmosphere in the house was always filled with literary discussions and varied artistic interests – what with sisters, Tanuja Chandra (film director) and Anupama Chopra (journalist-writer), to add to the talent pool.

One would imagine that with so many writers in one household, there would often be a difference of opinion. Chandra, on the other hand, looks unfazed and finds it productive. “It’s all in good faith. It doesn’t get to the point where you start resenting somebody else’s opinion. It’s great to be around people who understand the life of being somebody like that. You are, in a sense, strange and different.” Talking about his wife, Melanie Abrams, who is also a writer, Chandra recalls meeting her at an art festival in Los Angeles and staying in touch via email. He says, “We sometimes completely baffle each other. The universe we see is different from that of the other person.”

Chandra, himself, is a man of many talents. His proficiency with computers was discovered when he was working his way through film school in New York. A self-proclaimed computer geek, he loves to dabble in a bit of programming to relax!

After his ambiguous experience of being one of the writers for Vidhu Vinod Chopra’s Mission Kashmir, Chandra is pretty emphatic about not returning to script-writing anytime soon. “As a novelist, you have such complete control over what you do but film-making, from the ground up, is a collaborative art. It’s thrilling at times, because you pass around ideas and then directors step in and the actors make something of what you did. At other times, you want to do something and you can’t! So, then you feel really angry and frustrated.”

Funnily enough, Chandra recalls with a sheepish look, “I actually went to film school because I was scared of being a writer!” After his BA, he was lost and didn’t know how to earn his livelihood. For a year he drifted around taking up odd jobs from that of a night baker to a security guard and furniture mover in Los Angeles. Then he decided to go to film school, figuring that at least that way he would have a chance at a creative job. Ironically, it was film school that led him right back to writing books!

As the discussion revolves around the topics he chooses for his books, Chandra matter-of-factly states, “One writes something close to what one reads and gives pleasure. The Victorians, for instance. I love the diffusion of characters…!” He believes that Indians would necessarily write about the Indian experience, since that is where they are coming from. However, he warns, “One does have to be careful about getting stuck in an ethnic ghetto…for instance, the temptation to write yet another story about cultural confusion.”

For the choice of the detective genre for his latest book, Chandra believes it is a neglected and curiously pleasing form, which weaves across cultures. The detective incarnates the scientific method and the form fits with logic and reason against the chaotic. “In the end,” he says with a smile, “you love it because it comforts us and restores order.”

Has the million dollar-signing contract restored any order for Chandra? Quick to allay the thought that he is discontent, he states a little ruefully, “People presume that with that kind of number, you are set for life. After paying taxes, what you are left with isn’t enough to even buy a house! At the end of it, you are still faced with the task of making a living and feeding your dog. It’s not as if you are transported into some kind of heaven!”

A kind of heaven for Chandra, it appears, is his time distributed between his two homes. He does miss Mumbai and writes about it through the characters in his new book as well. “That is also not to say that the city is not trying and exhausting and wears on you like nothing,” he chuckles. He finds the travel and distance to be a much-needed perspective. “Getting away is a sort of purposeful dislocation – and each time I return, I can feel the city experientially again, renewed.”

While stating that there is so much territory left to explore, Chandra does show a semblance of weariness as he states that he has no plans for another book as yet. A holiday is on the official charts for him – a much required and enforced one.

Quietly contemplative, he concludes, “I realise now how lucky it is to be able to do work in the world that you actually enjoy. It’s not a privilege that everyone gets.”

Sleepless in Seattle

23 Sunday Apr 2006

Posted by sitanshi talati-parikh in Publication: Verve Magazine, Travel Stories

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Interviews: Travel, Seattle, USA, Verve Magazine

Published: Verve Magazine, Travel, March-April 2006

Home to Microsoft, Boeing and those fabulous Starbucks frappuccinos, Seattle, the vivacious city on the ‘upper-west’ side of America, is a ski-jump away from Vancouver. As it always does at this stage – when flying for business takes precedence over flying for pleasure – SITANSHI TALATI-PARIKH’S rendezvous with the Emerald City began with a business seminar…

Seattle

A typical East Coast sentiment kicks off with a nasty red-eye leaving me with a whopping two hours of sleep that night. Straggled and disconcerted, I peer out at the city through heavy-lidded eyes and get accosted with a whiff of the sharp ready-to-rain-anytime air that chills and warms you at the same time. I happen to have the day free before I start spending quality time indoors at the seminar, and I quietly contemplate the best use of my precious hours of freedom. Many, many hours behind on sleep, I crave the much-advertised soft beds of my hotel. As I swing into Downtown, however, my eyes pop open and my body surges with adrenaline.

The adrenaline didn’t abate until I got on that flight back home, and even at this moment, I can still recall that heady feeling. I knew the moment my cab snaked its way into the city that this would be one memorable trip. With fatigue threatening to take charge, I could sleep in or check out the city. The choice was easy. For that one day, I shed the business suit and became the camera-clicking tourist – backpack and all.

The hilly roads that can get steep without a moment’s notice all lead to the most fun place of all – Pike Place Market. A cut above the designer stores in their typical city décor, this market is just downright homely, with ‘fresh’ being the operative word. Miles and miles of the most beautiful and fresh flowers lay spread out before me, of every hue imaginable. I purchase some of the fresh farm fruits from those ever-smiling vendors, surreptitiously sample some of the homemade honey and gourmet chocolates, and join the onlookers watching cheese being churned by hand. Guiltily, I purchase a Seattle shot glass for my collection, a Chinese wall hanging and a sketch of Starbucks. The joy of strange little souvenirs. Compare the inviting little café-style restaurants with tantalising aromas and cuisines for every palate, to the airline’s ‘generous’ serving of pretzels.

My personal favorite remains the scrumptious Mediter-ranean sandwiches at the Sister’s European Café. I went there every day in lieu of the seminar lunches. They are just that good.

A local market singer strikes up a song about my T-shirt, and I realise a bit too late. As I begin to draw undue attention from the crowd, I look down aghast, at the words: ‘Guys make nice pets!’ Somehow, the Abercrombie & Fitch T-shirt didn’t seem like such a big deal when I actually bought it! A trifle nonplussed, I decide it’s about time I scram and I quickly clamber onto the nearest vehicle heading out. Turns out to be a bus going to the Seattle Space Center. Checking out the area, I also discover a Science Fiction Museum and something called the Experience Music Project. And then, my eyes catch a sign for ‘Ride the Ducks of Seattle.’ I was intrigued.

Could anything be more fun? The vehicles used are actually World War II relics and they go on land and water, giving a 90-minute tour of the city! I was in it for the ride.

We learn the duck sound and the tour guide-cum-driver is just brimming with jokes. Every age group is present and the racket we make is quite extraordinary. The people in this city are so friendly, even the harried business sorts (I’m not one of them today) actually stop by to wave and some even do the duck waggle! We do a by-land and by-water tour of the city and its skyline, check out the Art Museum (there is a Van Gogh Exhibit this week), the Seahawks Stadium, and an ancient refinery….

The most interesting part about this city is the diversity from one part to another. The Belltown District where the Space Needle is located is only alive when there are tourists around. The Space Needle (surprisingly) originated as a science project by some students and is now a famous Seattle landmark.

After a steaming cuppa’ at the Space Café, I ride to the top of the Space Needle to check out the real-time web cams. Zooming into the city, I can almost spy my husband, Sahil, sneaking furtively into a Banana Republic when he should be busy taking some business away from Microsoft!

The next stop was the Pioneer District that is actually underground. When that part of town was rebuilt, the roads ended up covering the first floor of a number of buildings.

Glowering totem poles stare watchfully at me, daring anyone to make a comment on this strange part of town. It feels like something out of Alice in Wonderland, where life exists at a subterranean level, very separate from its sunny counterpart. Taking an Underground Tour brings to light a dark sort of existence.

The Fremont is the artsy area, what with naked bicyclists, alternative and grunge music. Downtown has classy shops and restaurants, the theatre and Pike Place Market. The harbour area is always busy, and catching a ferry or a cruise to a nearby island is a piece of cake.

Taking a short ferry ride to the closest island, Bainbridge, is fun. The Island is small and cosy – I really feel it’s quite possible to walk from one end to the other! Leaning against a colourful mural in front of a little art gallery, it all looks very serene. The painting comes to life and the fields seem to extend endlessly behind me. After a quiet lunch, the ferry ride back is invigorating. The wind whips past my face, as I take in the Seattle cityscape in sharp relief against the clear blue sky. I sigh contentedly as Seattle has generously kept her ubiquitous rain clouds away from my weekend trip.

After such a memorable few hours, I can’t imagine a day spent indoors. There are lunch breaks though, I console myself, with much the same I’m-so-busy-but-oh-so-mournful look sported by the business sorts. And after 5pm, strolling down the streets of Downtown is something to look forward to. Incredibly fabulous Italian restaurants like the Palomino and Vivanda are at an appetite’s length; I noticed Fox’s Sports Bar earlier and some interesting breweries. Or I could catch a musical nearby. It’s not like there’s a lack of entertainment, just a lack of time.

The seminar paled in comparison to the mysteries of the city. I can think of a dozen more things I would have liked to do whilst there, but isn’t that the case with any new place? These are the moments when mixing business with pleasure comes to life….

No Time To Preen

26 Monday Dec 2005

Posted by sitanshi talati-parikh in Fashion & Style, Interviews (All), Interviews: Lifestyle, Publication: Verve Magazine

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Designers, Falguni And Shane Peacock, Fashion, Interview, Lifestyle, Style, vervemagazine

Published: Verve Magazine, Features, November-December 2005
Photograph: Akash Mehta

When Falguni married Shane Peacock, together they conjured up a funky treasure trove for the tired fashion victim. Sitanshi Talati-Parikh chats with the creative couple behind the flamboyant designer label, who work 24/7 and suffer from Sunday morning blues!

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The Juhu studio is warm and snug, tastefully embellished with touches that are all Peacock. Settling myself in on an olive love seat with golf motifs, I look expectantly at Shane Peacock seated across me on an animal print settee; he appears as reticent as he is known to be. The other half of the duo – Falguni Peacock – chirpy, bubbly and innately hospitable, bustles about attending to things while talking at breakneck speed.

They could be just any newly married couple, bickering good-naturedly over minor differences, suddenly quiet, otherwise talking over each other, and completely head-over-heels in love with their three-year-old budding fashionista daughter. The conversation flows over a coffee and then some tea.

Theirs is a fairy-tale story of how a self-reliant, salwar kameez-clad Gujarati girl came upon a pig-headed, Christian boy. Ironically, Shane, who was a member of a rock band, had always fantasised about meeting a ‘propah’ traditional girl who didn’t smoke, drink, or ‘go wild’, and there she was. But Falguni wasn’t easy to woo. With a delighted chuckle, she recalls how Shane once asked her out for coffee and told her to come wearing jeans. When the usually conservative dresser obliged, he knew he had won her over.

But conventional as she seemed, Falguni was a career woman through and through. Even before she got married, she had started her own clothing label and Shane, meanwhile had also studied fashion design. It was not long after their marriage that they pooled their talents into the flamboyant and unique Peacock brand.

Their success didn’t come easy. Shane started college, studying engineering at the behest of his father, and Falguni who came from a background of chartered accountants and lawyers, was greeted with equal scepticism when she chose to become a fashion designer. In the end she settled for a Commercial Art degree to make her family happy but working in an ad agency only made her unhappy. Reminiscing, she says, “I told my father, in no uncertain terms, ‘One day I will be a really famous fashion designer’. Unfortunately, my father isn’t here to celebrate my success, but he would have been so proud.”

Shane faced similar rebuke at home when his preference for spending his days sketching outside class was discovered. Horrified at the thought of his son becoming a “ladies tailor” or even worse, being gay, his father took him to task. The rebel in Shane sprung forth and he walked out on his family. Falguni interrupts, “It is really his live wire nature that got him to where he is right now.”

Chasing those dreams, however, was easier said than done. He was forced to give up his indulgence – the rock band, he over-stayed his welcome at a friend’s house by a year and jobs were not easy to come by. It was a while before he thought about doing something on his own.

Shane drags us back to the present. “Let’s not talk about the past; it is only the present and the future which matter.” With the slightest touch of regret but no resentment, he states thoughtfully, “If I had my family’s support, I could have reached here faster. It is frustrating sometimes to think about the extra years I had to put in to get here.” Immediately distracted by his daughter, noticeably the apple of his eye, he reflects on his relationship with her, “She calls me Shane – and I like that. Calling me ‘dad’ would put that extra distance between us, which I don’t want.”

Their marriage was the turning point of their personal and professional lives. When Falguni married Shane, together they conjured up a new vision for discerning dressers. Today 90 per cent of their business comes from the international market, and the Peacocks are a global brand. Ironically, it is the Indian market that they seem unsure of. Appreciative of the attention they have been receiving nationally, they still believe that India as an organised market has a long way to go. Shane explains that selling an outwardly simple outfit for the equivalent of Rs 40,000 abroad would be no problem at all; it would be valued for the style, the cut and the label. In India on the other hand, he states matter-of-factly, “People want their money’s worth. A woman seeing a price tag of Rs 40,000 would ask for the piece to be heavily embellished so it looks like that much karigari has gone into it. Simplicity, which is really more my style, won’t work as easily here as it does abroad, at the prices we retail at.”

Falguni joins in by stating that they know their target audience, “We don’t want anyone and everyone to wear our garments. We are very selective about our clients and our stores. It is the cream of the crowd that we cater to and as long as they appreciate our work, we’re happy.” She says they would rather sell limited garments than drive volumes. It quickly becomes clear that Falguni is the hard-nosed businessperson of the two. Shane seems to read my thoughts, adding, “Falguni is the more pragmatic of the two of us, she sees the commercial viability and makes those key business decisions.” But they both agree that, “At the end of the day, you have to ensure that your work is commercial. You can’t make a masterpiece that is admired but never worn. We want it to sell, but in our style and on our terms.”

Shane strongly believes that talent alone was not the only deciding factor in their successes. Instead it is largely through smart marketing that they have been able to make themselves be seen and noticed. To promote their line, the Peacocks tried working with models, but were not happy with the results. They explain, “Models didn’t provide a value addition. You can’t identify with them, they don’t seem entirely real. Spectacular garments can’t be remembered for just that. So we decided to take on celebrities to build relevance.” That eventually turned out to be quite a marketing coup. They look at each other and smile. Falguni continues, “We set about getting the people we wanted. It was not easy convincing Manish Malhotra, himself a very successful designer, but we managed the impossible. Rita Dhody’s campaign was the most talked about. She is a flamboyant and sensual woman and epitomises glamour. Each person is very different and since we can’t change the character and personality of each, we just take their image and make it even more attractive than it is. Nawaz Singhania’s campaign was tuned into her personality; the lines were slightly more conservative, the look more accessible”.

Shane reiterates, “We want even the most ordinary looking woman to look and feel beautiful in our clothes.” As Falguni strides up to one of the racks and pulls out an outfit to demonstrate, Shane emphasises that they are known for their plunging necklines. That doesn’t mean they don’t make cover-up pieces like kaftans and such, but a large number of their designs carry their signature low necklines. “We cater largely to the kind of woman who is a lot more conscious today about fitness, health and fashion. Everyone wants to look younger and more attractive, and that’s where our necklines come in,” he laughs.

So what is their signature style? Clothes for the woman who is not afraid of going over the top. Shane deliberates and then says, “It’s all still quite new and experimental for us. Four or five years down the line we’ll know exactly what a Peacock piece is meant to look like.” They know what’s important to them, though: “Women feel slimmer and sexier in our clothes. We want a woman to show her feminine side, look like a woman, go slimmer on the waistline, let the garment flow, not be rigid. It will always be funky and distinctive.”

They’ve been echoing each other’s voices for so long, that I begin to wonder about any creative differences that they may have. “Oh, we fight a lot – on everything, but mostly work. We’re both very independent and that is what brings us at loggerheads. But our differences just seem to resolve themselves.” As Shane calls time out to talk to a friend about a trip to the Maldives, I wonder if taking time off from work helps stimulate creativity. “There are barely any holidays for us! We’re always stressed, and all of our travel is work-related. At the most we take one day off to shop (Falguni by the way, loves to shop!). We just don’t know what to do at a beach – it’s almost too stress-free. A city is the perfect place for us, like New York.” Pausing for breath, Falguni suddenly bursts into laughter and resumes, “Even on our honeymoon, in Kerala, we got bored and cut the holiday short!” Shane who finds most pleasure in spending time with his daughter Nian, adds, “Sundays bore us.”

 

What about giving each other space, I ask. Falguni is quick to assert, “Even if we are together 24/7, we are still doing separate things.” Shane joins in, “We handle separate factories.” As a woman though, it is difficult to manage home and work. Falguni agrees, “The baby came sooner than we had planned.” She makes a quiet mention of the fact that she owes much of her professional success to her mother, who takes care of her daughter, enabling her to keep these busy hours. They are both the creative heads of their line. “We don’t want to be dependent on assistants,” he says, and adds, “The day I feel money is more important than autonomy, I will outsource our designs to employees. That day isn’t here yet!”

 

So what’s in store for the future, besides more stores and new tales of success? Falguni clinches it by stating their vision, “If a person walks into a crowded room, and if what she is wearing is recognised as a Peacock from miles away, we would have achieved our dream.” Shane adds, “Some people have called us the Cavalli of the East – but we don’t want to work under anyone’s creative shadow. Our fashion house, as it will be in the future, will be sustainable enough for our daughter to carry on the tradition. We want our line to find mention among the top ten global design brands, we want to be a household name…and to live up to our unique surname, to be a Peacock is to find success in it.”

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