Sameera Reddy: Girl Transformed!

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Published: Verve Magazine, Cover Story, November 2007
Photograph: Joy Datta

Bollywood siren Sameera Reddy has stepped out from the shadow of her model siblings into the sizzling world of the big screen. Recently seen schmoozing with the likes of Shakira and George Clooney at the Toronto Film Festival which showcased two of her films, the sultry star, who was also in the news for battling to save an orphanage, reveals to SITANSHI TALATI-PARIKH, that under all that glamour, she is just a simple girl with simple desires

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“Being glamorous doesn’t turn my head, because I have been on the receiving end of never being looked at, of never getting a rose on Rose Day in college, of being alone. I am now more wary of superficiality.”

“It was a painful time when nobody even knew I existed – that there were just two Reddy sisters who were models, Sushma and Meghana.”

“We are so opinionated and headstrong, all with ideas about what’s best for the other! Now, when my sisters and I spend precious moments together, it is a riot.”

“Being sexy is just a facet, not the whole. I didn’t start out being a sex symbol, or think that I would be an actress. It was almost like an overnight change.”

“It isn’t fair to be under constant pressure of having to wake up every morning, roll out of bed and come down looking as if you have just stepped out of a Yash Chopra film! But it is a part of who we are and what we are expected to do.”

“I go with the flow, from bubble-headed bizarre roles in Telugu films, to serious acting in Bengali cinema, to masala parts in Bollywood.”

“I am meticulous about learning all the languages in which I act and I understand the meaning of every word that I speak.”

“Being an actor makes you an extrovert. It throws you into the water and forces you to learn to swim. The image is just an extension of what I am supposed to be – but it is really not who I am.”

“The adulation is fantastic – it is what makes all the baniyawalas and rikshawalas recognise me. But, one day it’s going to go away. The day most actors dread, is the day I feel I will be set free….”

“The turning point of my career was being a part of Buddhadeb Dasgupta’s film, Kalpurush. You can’t hide in Buddhadeb’s cinema, it is just you and your character and it is the true test of real acting.”

“I got a renewed sense of confidence when Buddhadeb chose to cast someone like me, when everyone else dismissed me as just a glamour doll.”

“Toronto was a crazy picnic. I went to the Festival with no expectations and ended up meeting all these international celebrities who are so unbelievably down to earth. Having dinner with them seemed like the most normal thing to do!”

“The Indian sari is the sexiest outfit in the world. Why wear Versace and Armani to International festivals?”

“I am mad about travel and I love places with history and culture, like Turkey. I like backpacking; I have spent a month in Thailand, where I learnt how to ride a bike.”

“I am a loner and an introvert. I love sitting by the poolside reading and writing in my diary – which would probably make a fantastic best-seller! I also enjoy knitting.
I shock myself. I can be unpredictable, because I am very impulsive. I follow a strict fitness and diet regime; yet one day I can wake up and decide to eat pani puri off the road, or fly to Paris, and actually do it!”

“I can say something, and then do something completely different.”

“I would never reveal my inner self to anybody.”

“My portable PlayStation is always with me. I love Need For Speed and car racing games. Sam’s Mission, a video game revolving around me, is a great kick, pun intended!
My love life suffers because guys are really intimidated by my image. At the end of the day, I am just a girl, who wants a simple guy she can come home to, not a model, actor or cricketer!”

“My role model is my mother, a part of my dad’s business, a social worker and a constant learner, whose energy even at the age of 61 makes me want to better myself.
In a world full of superficiality, taking care of orphan kids has been a reality check. The plasma TV, the diamond ring, every big thing became so redundant.”

“I emotionally blackmailed all my friends, found out what fancy new thing they were about to buy and made them put the money into the orphanage instead. I’m proud of them for coming through for me.”

“I am not a party animal. I like simplicity. My favourite thing in the world is plopping down with a big bag of popcorn and watching a movie. What really gives me pleasure is coming home to safety and comfort after a hard day’s work.”

“It is a tight slap in the face if you think that when you win the Filmfare Award you will be happy, or when you find the perfect man or lose weight you will feel good. None of that matters – happiness should begin right at this moment with no end goal in sight.”

Literature: Experimental Writer

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Published: Verve Magazine, Speaking Volumes, September 2007
Photograph: Ritam Banerjee

A doctor, columnist, novelist and detective fiction writer, Kalpana Swaminathan is often taken aback by the absurd situations that she has been witness to in her multi-hued career. She encapsulates the banality of everyday living in her works as is evidenced by her latest offering, The Gardener’s Song. Sitanshi Talati-Parikh exchanges notes with the diverse wordsmith who delights in dabbling in different genres

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Holding a tête-à-tête with the talented, genteel lady, simply clad in a green sari, I sit at a corner table at Crossword, Bandra. Kalpana Swaminathan juggles at being a doctor, columnist, novelist and detective fiction writer, so our conversation sparks off with her unusual career choices. She brushes off any surprise at a paediatric surgeon taking to writing, with a decisive, “You have to be interested in people.”

Sensing that nothing more is forthcoming, I switch gears to what made her start writing. Looking less than pleased, she counters, “What kind of answers do you expect? I wish I could produce something magical.” As a child shouts behind us, Swaminathan visibly softens and warms to the topic. “I love children and I love to write.” She muses, “Medicine as a profession becomes a way of life. You use perhaps ten per cent of what you learn in practice. The other 90 per cent is not used for ‘doctoring’ – it serves a larger purpose, it changes the way you look at things, it changes the value of life.”

Just like one must have a sense for the written word, Swaminathan believes that one has to learn the child’s language and understand it. She defies the myth that children can’t talk or communicate. “It is actually the adult who has to learn how to communicate and learn to understand what the child is not telling you.” It is not surprising then, that she found her stories for children easy to write – they are all fairy tales, with magical things happening in the world.

Swaminathan found herself publishing short stories at the fantastically early age of 13, but soon after went through a lean period where for years she did not get the chance to write, until after the age of 30. She recalls those years as being “rich, harrowing and exciting,” all in one breath, a time when she was studying medicine and working intensely. “When I started writing again, the initial writing was easy – it simply scaled off me. After that, I began experimenting with different genres.”

Around 1996, after her foray into children’s writing, Swami–nathan began writing columns with her colleague and partner, Ishrat Syed. As I wonder if it is easy to write in tandem with another person, she brushes it off as child’s play, simply, “We had to arrive at a distinctive style.” It was an exploratory journey, from Animal Crackers for a daily newspaper, to columns, where they wrote about different things including art, food, “mad” science, literature and lingua franca. She recalls with pride, that in 2000, when the human genome was being mapped out, they tracked its progress, in a week-by-week review column. As if reading my thoughts, about why they haven’t written a piece of science fiction yet, she mentions that their jointly written book is due to be out soon, which is to be a futuristic view of Mumbai.

When the experimental writer wanted to have some fun, she began writing detective stories. Her detective Lalli is accompanied by her niece, the writer of the book. Lalli isn’t the action-oriented detective of the racy thrillers, but the analytical thinker of Agatha Christie’s genre. Noticing the Poirot-Hastings ensemble cast of her novel, I ask the inevitable question. Swaminathan is quick to reply, “Of course, I’ve read Agatha Christie – who hasn’t? She’s a marvellous writer, as all the others out there, but I like to think of my work as my work!” Her first detective fiction, The Page 3 Murders, is a spoof on a country house murder, relocated in Mumbai, where, as she puts it, “everyone lives in each other’s pockets.” In here we find the classic English whodunit.

Tired of men and their sidekicks, Swaminathan deliberately chose an elderly woman as her detective. After all, she points out, an Indian woman would be free to do as she pleased only when post-60 and problem free! Sharp, compassionate and efficient, Lalli, a retired police officer, is considered the man in khaki’s Last Resort (LR) on troublesome murder cases.

The Gardener’s Song, Swaminathan’s latest whodunit on the murder of the nosey Mr. Rao in a Mumbai suburb, is ultimately a Mumbai book, traversing Juhu by-lanes all the way to the dilapidated buildings of Princess Street, opening up the lives and eccentricities of suburban Mumbai households and communities. Her writing is experiential: “I used to know Bombay – not what is has become in the last two or three years, but its largeness, its middle-class suburban experience.”

The banality of everyday life comes under the writer’s microscope – taken aback by the absurd situations that she has often been witness to, it is but natural for her to include these elements in her story. In The Gardener’s Song, for instance, Swaminathan describes an incident where a man is in desperate need of a blood transfusion and the only person who matches his blood type appears on the scene, only to be nearly frightened away at the thought of an HIV test. Aghast by the impact of what a rumour like that could have on his social life and marriage prospects, the donor is vouched for by his employer and colleagues as “a good man, from good family” – as if to imply, that that in itself should be sufficient proof that the man is not HIV positive!

The Gardener’s Song is not lacking in social comment, as if attempting social change in the midst and through the medium of a detective story. This touches a sensitive area, as the impassioned writer exclaims, “I do feel very strongly about these things and cannot help voicing them!” She is angered that the Indian Penal Code has a separate section for dowry death, which is basically “soft-optioning it, not calling it murder.” Swaminathan finds that Indian crimes are crimes of despair, hypocrisy, refusal to face the truth: “We can’t say bad things about people, but we can murder them. We are a cruel, violent and dishonest lot, and those who disagree, do so as they are cushioned by illusion.”

Swaminathan takes a cynical view of women in Indian society, the kind of women who sustain an obsolete patriarchy, and the feminists who are tired of being feminists. She firmly believes that every man and woman should do his or her bit. Believing that the most powerful women in Indian culture are elderly women, she holds them responsible for the crimes committed against other women. In fact, this is one of the reasons that she profiled her detective as an elderly woman.

It is clear that this is a writer who understands her audience and her subject, in equal part. Swaminathan brings out nuances of the local language in her writing, nuances that are completely absent from her crisp spoken English. As we have a dialogue about Salman Rushdie’s theory of “chutneyfication” of the English language, she describes how the language conveys the essence of the person, the local idiom and the flavour of the conversation. A large number of writers attempt to bring their part of India in their writing, as the local dialogue is a bridge between writing in the local tongue and writing in English. It is in this manner, that the language comes alive and it is easy to move between time and place, to enter and explore a region and lives in a way that one can’t imagine. In fact, a lot of the conversations in her books are taken verbatim from real life.

Swaminathan isn’t disconcerted about the dearth of detective fiction in the country. Publishing in English, in India, she explains, is only 20 years old; she expects to see a great deal more in the next five years.

Taking a few moments for this thought to sink in, the middle-aged writer, who finds the time to write on a daily basis, whilst actively practising, notes that writing per se has less to do with the craft and more to do with the experience of being a writer. And what is it that she, as a writer looks for in her work? Sitting back, taking a sip of chilled water, Swaminathan smiles and says, “Every writer is looking for two things – the inspiration to write at least one line of truth, and the aspiration to write a book!”

Lillete Dubey: The Performer

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Published: Verve Magazine, Features – Multiplex cinema, July 2007
Photograph by Kunaal Roy Kapur

She calls herself ‘an accidental film actress’. Lillete Dubey has made a mark for herself as an acclaimed character actor in films like Monsoon Wedding, My Brother Nikhil and the soon-to-be-released Bow Barracks Forever. In a freewheeling chat with Sitanshi Talati-Parikh, she describes how small-budget films have given rise to an independent, alternative voice in Indian cinema

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As I wait for the husky-voiced, charming character actor of substance, I potter around her intimate boudoir with its coffee-table tomes, old family photographs and bright silk cushions. Finally I meet the “died-in-the-wool theatre person”, who insists on calling herself an “accidental film actress,” whilst she is getting primed for the Verve shoot. Over lemonade and cheese toast, the intuitive, friendly and very “non-filmy” Lillete Dubey, jumps right into the topic at hand.

When I ask her whether alternative cinema began getting a decent showing after the mushrooming of multiplexes, she begs to differ. Dubey strongly believes it is the changing expectations of the audience that has given rise to a different kind of cinema. Multiplexes have given a platform, an alternative to mainstream, commercial cinema; but it was something that was coming – people were getting tired of having no choice. Everything, she believes, is a by-product of audience tastes.

Lighting a cigarette, Dubey explains that in her younger days, the audience did not have the choice to see anything besides Doordarshan. Today, due to the sudden advent of cable TV, media exposure and foreign films, there is a much more sophisticated audience. Their demands and expectations are different. The new discerning audience is not happy with the “seven-dances-in-Switzerland” kind of cinema. A synergy between all these elements, including the rise of multiplexes, led to the creation of what she calls, the “small-budget film”. “There isn’t ‘art’ or ‘offbeat’ cinema, simply “big-budget” and “small-budget” cinema.”

Small-budget films have given rise to an independent, alternative voice in Indian cinema, the likes of My Brother Nikhil, Bheja Fry and Monsoon Wedding. Here, the story and performances drive the film. Dubey believes this is what differentiates the two kinds of cinema and why so many movies with huge stars and hype are not hits. This is the reason why a ‘multiplex’ film, made well and within a tight budget, has very high chances of doing well, whilst the risks of a big-budget movie are commercially much higher.

Dubey rues the dearth of good character roles, especially for women, in Indian cinema, a fact that is slowly changing with the advent of smaller, independent films. The talented actress, whose upcoming ‘multiplex’ movie is the ensemble English film, Bow Barracks Forever, about Anglo-Indians in Kolkata, says thoughtfully, “Most actors (including me) would say, ‘I’ve never got the role that does me justice.’ That may sound presumptuous, but it is the remark of someone who is still striving to better than what they’ve always done. Any intelligent actor will always hanker for something richer, better, more complex, more difficult and more challenging. That’s the nature of the animal.”

Dubey agrees that a film-maker should keep trends, profiles and tastes of audiences, economics and universal appeal in mind when making a film. However, she strongly believes that if a film is made from the heart, with a good story, it will work better than a movie contrived with too much agenda. “In the end,” she smiles, “good cinema or any creative art is simply about illuminating the life we live.”

Chick Lit for the Soul

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Published: Verve Magazine, Features, April 2007

Single career women filling reams with the sardonic and witty prose about the angst of their lives, loves and non-loves, create a space for female readers who are tired of romances that talk about the exotically beautiful and the perfectly endowed. Increasingly, women writers are willing to pen the trials of the real woman in a real world where Mr Right may not exist. Chick lit romance is contemporary and true, with a sense of humour that stands the test of modern roles and expectations. It’s another matter that few writers can complete the final chapter without a Mr Right! Sitanshi Talati-Parikh attempts to unravel the attraction of this feel-good genre

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With cosmopolitan women choosing a martini over kesar-pista milk, the face of the contemporary Indian woman is changing and so is the writing to keep up with the new form of Westernised liberalisation.

Discovering an empty niche between perfectly real literature and unrealistically perfect romance, books featuring the lives and loves of young professional women, aka chick lit, comes as a form of salvation to the average woman who wants reality on the rocks, with a twist of humour. Smoothly banishing the heavy-handed depressed monotone of philosophy, and sardonically diminishing the fluffy picture-perfect description of fantasy, international chick lit queens like Helen Fielding (Bridget Jones’s Diary), Candace Bushnell (Sex and the City), Lauren Weisberger (The Devil Wears Prada) and Emma McLaughlin and Nicola Kraus (The Nanny Diaries) have set the standard for chick lit across the globe.

Seeing modern Indian women identify with these books and protagonists, Indian writers, like that of other countries across the world, have adapted this space in the local context. chick lit writer, Kavita Daswani, believes that a woman anywhere in the world is a Bridget Jones in the making, and that her angst is not much different from any working middle-class woman. Daswani points out that today’s woman anywhere in the world is probably looking for a boyfriend/husband, satisfaction in her career, good friends, enjoyment; she has money issues, she gets involved with the wrong men, and she might have conflicts within her family – all those things that any 20 or 30-something professional woman encounters on a day-to-day basis, probably anywhere in the world.

Rajashree, a Mumbai-based writer is pleased with the similarity. “I can identify with her (Bridget Jones). I was so delighted to read the portions about Bridget’s mom – even British mothers bug their daughters about getting married!” And this is how we find amusingly disgruntled, unmarried career women, filling pages with the sardonic and witty angst of their lives, loves and non-loves, create a space for the average woman, who are tired of the romances that frontline exotically beautiful and perfectly endowed women, and are willing to read about the trials of the real woman, in a real world, where Mr Right may not exist.

Women, however, being who they are, find the perfect satisfaction when Mr Right comes around and says ala Bridget Jones, “I love you just the way you are!” Every woman’s writer is selling a fantasy, it may be more real in chick lit, where the romance is contemporary and stark, with a humour that stands the test of modern roles and expectations, but no writer can complete the final chapter without a Mr Right!

This person may be an unexpected springer from the sidelines, overshadowing the ‘perfect’ man, who more often than not turns out to be the bad guy, but Mr Right inevitably appears, satisfying every reader that however unwholesome she may be, she can most certainly hope for the man of her dreams to swing by her street.

This is the actual brand of hope for those Indian women who struggle with the pressure of family expectations, arranged marriages and an optimum work life, and attempt to find a way out of the muddles of society. Swati Kaushal, author of the best-selling Piece of Cake, believes that the Indian marriage scene is not so different from dating abroad. “An arranged Indian marriage as it happens these days in India (where the girl and guy do meet a few times before they say yes),” she says, “today starts to appear as not so-very-different from arranged dates in the Western world (where a girl and guy meet a few times before they decide to go ahead). Everyone wants to have a relationship that succeeds. It’s just a question of how you get it started.”

All said and done, arranged marriages (however similar they may be to the Western dating culture) haven’t left the lives of Indian women. It seems difficult to imagine Indian chick lit bearing substance without the angst of arranged marriages in tryst with the love lives of protagonists. Rajashree agrees, believing that arranged marriages are to Indian chick lit, what dating is to Western chick lit – full of comic possibilities.

Though Swati Kaushal’s Piece of Cake upholds the same themes, where the protagonist’s mother is constantly trying to get her married to the ‘right’ man, Kaushal, herself, feels a deeper sense of worth in the novels: “I think of the bulk of my generation of middle class Indian women as torn between tradition and modernity, between what we learned from our mothers and what we learn from the Internet. Our angst derives from wanting to achieve more, to do more, to be more and quite unlike Bridget Jones, whose ambitions and preoccupations were steeped in the middle class cynicism of a mature, western economy.” Piece of Cake succeeds in bringing this out as Minal (the protagonist) comes through the pages as a character that avoids succumbing to the infinitesimal terrors of not having a mind of her own.

In Beyond Indigo, the heroine, Nina, struggles with the formula of marriage: “My mother and father made it work. Although it wasn’t the best marriage in the world they were still together and in their own way, they loved each other. Raj was a good man and that was the most important thing. He was practical, stable, kind, and he loved me and would never do anything to hurt me.” Eventually Nina has to choose between stability and risk, arranged marriage and love, tradition and loving a foreigner.

In its essence, all these novels are encouraging a coming of age of the Indian woman – whereby she cuts through the bonds of social obligation and stands up for herself. This is breaking free from the shackles of a patriarchal society, where women of a previous generation encourage the next to continue subservience to the male factor. Thus, encouragement from the written word comes at a time when women face the most insecurities and frustrations associated with an independent career-oriented life.

These novels are not feminist in the fighting sense of the word, in fact, they believe in the male significance in the woman’s life – but without sacrificing the woman’s worth and self-respect. Daswani’s Everything Happens for a Reason where a Delhi girl, Priya, is married to a California boy, and is made subservient at their wonderful California home, seems like a trite story, but the character of Priya manages to break through with a sense of subdued independence. It ends up more as an all’s-well-that-ends-well sort of story, rather than sensitive storytelling. Daswani herself agrees that the theme of arranged marriages and in-laws might have been over-touted and over done in Indian chick lit. She believes it is now time to tackle the challenge of finding unusual ways of telling those stories, or perhaps having those particular cornerstones being less important to the overall plot: “Just because an author is Indian doesn’t mean she can only tell Indian-themed stories.”

Rajashree’s Trust Me brings the theme of the big bad men, with a difference – she chooses the Indian film industry as a backdrop to the theme, drawing upon her own professional knowledge of Bollywood. In the end, one comes to realise that despite the backdrop of California, London or Bollywood – the situations and themes are not very different, and men and women are the same everywhere. It is now up to the writers to create scenarios, characters and personalities that stand out, if chick lit is to be considered seriously.

Preethi Nair’s Beyond Indigo creates such a powerful character. Nair’s storytelling is gripping and her characters tear through the pages to reach out with the power of literature and the critical depth of real story-telling. Nair’s work, like Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni (Queen of Dreams) crosses the chasm between chick lit and women’s literature. Where chick lit often remains fluffy and feel good in its writing style, women’s literature (not the chick lit sub-genre of women’s lit) is more serious and developed. As Nair, who doesn’t have much time for chick lit, puts it, “You just don’t think, ‘I’m going to write a novel now’ – you have to have something to say!” While Nair and Divakaruni’s books contain the basic elements of chick lit, it may be as tricky classifying them as chick lit, as may be Austen’s Pride and Prejudice.

Prof Dr Shefali Balsari Shah, Head of the English Department, St. Xavier’s College, Mumbai, has had entertaining discussions with her students about chick lit as a form of popular culture. Considered a part of the romance genre studies or the feminist approach to popular culture, she warns against using simplistic criteria to slot a women’s novel as chick lit. She however believes that chick lit is running out of steam and into repetitive and self-plagiarising mode. Where the wit and humour works, she wonders if the writing will be able to sustain itself.

Many of the chick lit writers are not traditionally writers by profession – they often come from varied backgrounds, and inspired by a story or incidents from their personal life, write successful chick lit novels. Since chick lit is about professional women in their mid 20s or 30s, who are juggling a career, a love life and social obligations, it is not surprising that the writers are using experiential techniques in the novelistic form.

Swati Kaushal, herself has an MBA from IIM Kolkata, and has worked with MNC’s like Nestle and Nokia for several years. Her familiarisation with the corporate culture formed her research and helped her portray Minal’s professional career accurately in Piece of Cake. Rupa Gulab, writer of the popular Girl Alone, also draws from her own experiences of living in a hostel. Similarly, Rajashree, a film writer and director, chose to try her hand at novels, placing her protagonist within the milieu of the Indian film industry.

Beyond Indigo was practically an autobiographical novel for Preethi Nair, who had experienced similar social and parental pressures to be in the ‘perfect’ job and find the ‘perfect’ man. She, like her protagonist, Nina, managed to break free from these obligations and managed to find success in what she really wanted to do – take the path less travelled.

The fact that these novels draw from personal experiences of women who are out there in the field, are writing about events that are current and relevant, make these novels all the more enjoyable and identifiable. Easy reads, simplistic themes and bright witty characters, make them the novel of choice for the average woman. The fact that they are popular is obvious from the number of books that populate bookstores and flashy covers and catchy titles that ape the genre that has found rapid popularity in the West.

Whether the quality of writing keeps up with the speed with which these novels are churned out, is questionable, where good storytelling and openhearted confession need to be seamlessly integrated. Instead, light and enjoyable becomes trashy and annoying, themes are becoming formulaic. Nisha Minha, a UK-based writer, whose books are most widely available in bookstores, is one such example. Lacking depth and character development, these novels are neither clever nor enjoyable for a discerning reader and are merely a notch higher than Mills and Boon, with a lot more regressive soap-opera-type sex and drama thrown in for good measure.

Daswani, a California-based writer, discovers interesting shades in chick lit by Indian diaspora. She explains that the most obvious difference is that authors of the Indian diaspora weave in their own cultural sensibilities, perceptions and observations into their work, telling their stories from a unique Indo-American/Indo-British/Indo-European point of view. She believes that “this clashing of cultures, even in its most subtle incarnations, can make for some very vivid storytelling”.

Chick lit, by Indian writers of the diaspora is less easily available in India, compared to chick lit by non-Indian writers! Most bookstores in Mumbai do not stock most of these writers – they are either out of stock and not reprinted or simply not available. It is also true that there are more writers of the diaspora attempting Indian chick lit, rather than local Indian writers. That could be due to the greater influence of Western culture and the growing influence of chick lit abroad, than locally. Interestingly, chick lit has its own domain and space in bookstores abroad. However, it is heartening to note that writers like Daswani and Nair are very popular amongst readers at circulating libraries like Shemaroo. As the latter puts it, the readers like something that they can read, enjoy and forget!

Kaushal, ruminating on the influence of chick lit, suggests that Indian society is changing, quite rapidly, as its economy is growing. She is cautious about the growth of chick lit: “I’m not sure there is enough writing out there to catalyse the change, one can only hope that eventually the influence of progressive books becomes more wide reaching than that of regressive serials.” Daswani on the other hand is more positive, opining that the role of chick lit is also inspirational, where many of these books serve to illuminate and enlighten, showing readers a life beyond what they know.
Whether the life that is displayed in these novels is beyond reality, or a fantasy that is clothed in reality, the books do serve to lighten the mood and temperament of professional women. Identification with the real-life heroines brings empathy through the pages, the wit and humour serves to remind us to take life not so seriously, the coming of age redefines our sense of self-worth, and more importantly the storybook endings play their part in negating cynicism and shining a beacon of hope.

Mumbai On The Rocks

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Published: Verve Magazine, Musings, January 2007
Illustration by Farzana Cooper

Sitanshi Talati-Parikh meditates on Mumbai, a city where sex, drugs and alcohol race through the party circuit, Indian traditional values are discussed over sheesha and bhang and the hippest people are those that find a perfect balance between the raciness of the culture and the values that are harped on at home

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Hip, trendy and captivating. When the season to entertain is here, the tourists and diaspora start floating in with the cool Queen’s Necklace breezes, looking starry-eyed and thirsty. Coconut water or lassi isn’t their cup of tea; the quenchers are fresh sugarcane martinis and melon caipirinhas. They move to a beat that is ultimately Mumbai – trippy techno, remixed goldies and American hip-hop. Their cuisine of choice isn’t kebabs and bukharas, but French fusion and Thai curry. The melting pot of cultures that they want to experience isn’t Punjabi, Gujarati, Muslim and Christian, but a svelte girl in a miniskirt, getting ‘hammered’ on a vodka-with-wings, grooving to hip-hop and making eyes at a wannabe American frat-boy. Where sex, drugs and alcohol race through the party circuit, Indian traditional values are discussed over sheesha and bhang and the hippest people are those that find a perfect balance between the raciness of the culture and values that are harped on at home.

They flock in hordes, flooding every fashionable place in sight from Colaba to Juhu, experiencing the way of life that is Mumbai. The Gateway of India is just a landmark for the Taj Tower or Privé, the lounge bar and Elephanta, Ajanta and Ellora are mystical card patterns sold at traffic signals. From breakfast at popular bistro, Basilico, late lunches at Indigo Deli, percussion and cocktails at Henry Tham, wine at Intercontinental’s dome, sushi at Shiru, sheesha at Souk and dinner at India Jones, these tourists are here for the nouveau luxury and sophistication that is creeping into the bumpy roads that still continue to get dug up every few months, whilst fabulous new buildings and sparkling malls pop up at every intersection. The chauffer-driven Mercs and Beamers, bearing Armani and Zara, chandelier earrings, platinum credit cards and stiletto heels, accompany them to all the hot spots, where the conversation is no longer about what is going wrong, but what is going right.

As my friends start holding their designer exhibitions in happening nightspots like Red Light, instead of staid shops, homes and galleries and art is displayed and discussed over wine and hors d’oeuvres at Saltwater Grill and at evening shows at Dusk, before a nightcap at Olive, one begins to wonder whether the city’s nightlife is pervading our everyday existence. Ryan Tham, restaurant owner, believes that it is the constant need to do and try something different. I wonder: are we really so different, or are we aping a culture that we have brought home with us, after our sojourns abroad? Is this who we want to be and is this an organic social change, or one that is racing headfirst towards collision with an intrinsic culture that is no longer in line with what is considered ‘in’?

Sunday brunches are the new buzz in a city that apparently has no limits – it is no longer chic to throw a party into the wee hours of the night – rather, it is delicately suggested to drop by for a Sunday brunch at one of the happening lounges – Vie, Squeeze, Taxi, Ra. As the sophisticates stroll in by 2 p.m., the welcome drink is a shooter – tequila, kamikaze, and slammer. Inside, the liquor and rhythm are readily flowing, replicating a night-time soirée. The only noticeable difference between the partying a few hours prior and the afternoon lies in the designer pair of sunglasses that must accompany every man and woman, to be considered fittingly attired for the occasion. To be seen without one of those, is a faux pas of the biggest sort! It is mid-afternoon, after all, and what better way to hide the previous night’s hangover than with a pair of gargantuan Versace or Gucci shades that cover most of the painstakingly made-up faces? Fabulous summer dresses, skinny heels and matching totes are perfect for the occasion, where conversation gets tiresome and the music gets louder until the invitees inevitably get completely inebriated by early evening. The ‘lunch’ is of course served by 4 p.m. and eaten in most part by 6 p.m. As I wondered why these invasive, but inordinately jolly, gatherings sliced straight through my routine massage on my only free day of the week, I was perkily asked by one very tipsy girl, what better day to party than that of the Sabbath? Besides, the best way to get rid of Saturday night’s hangover is to simply roll out of bed and drink some more! The future of cosmopolitan India suddenly looked painfully bright through the skylight.

This is the much-touted ‘McDonaldisation’ of Indian culture. Our Art of Living has found a new form of materialistic meditation, where money flows like a brook, as easily in as out. I am not surprised to find friends under 30 with complaints of high blood pressure, premature balding, cholesterol and heart trouble. Stress amongst the youth is as common as a Louis Vuitton at a party and as high as the sensex. In the race to become a Manhattan, we are quickly becoming mad hatters. Life is on speed dial and a party’s calling.

For those aching for a different scene, Goa is the ultimate weekend spot right around the corner. From ramshackle beach shacks to exquisite luxury resorts, they zoom in by the hordes. Bathing, tanning and getting ‘stoned’, Goa is their escape from the reality of their lives. They’re quietly raving but not ranting; the youth has given up complaints in lieu of escapist complacence. From Manchester to Mumbai, people ironically swoop in to hide in this ecstasy-driven pleasure haven. King’s beer, Goan curry, Domino’s pizza served on the beach, entrancing music, bohemian culture and a pace of life that refuses to speak of stress or worry, ease the harried nerves and form a balm to the acid of each day.

From the palaces of the North, to the spas of the South, India has now begun selling a lifestyle that is contemporary and current, instead of the history and glory of the past. Whether this lifestyle is appropriate is no longer the question but the worldly Mumbaikar has arrived, with luxury, sophistication and ideas galore. The icing on the cake is his endless desire to party, every night, every day and on any occasion. As the visitors flicker in by the dozens, they feel more at home, away from home, where the metropolis buzzes with excitement every minute, laced with an intoxicating flavour that is truly, Indian cosmopolitan.

My American-born-desi friend looked scornful and shocked when my husband and I announced our decision to leave the Bushy ‘country of dreams’, to take the rickety and bumpy ride home. The same person, while visiting us recently, was culture-shocked by the life that was now Mumbai. After 12 event-packed days, he left, hung over, a few kilos heavier and determinedly clutching the business card of a real-estate agent in Mumbai.

From the Scandinavian girls in small-town Italy, who speak not of the Taj Mahal (monument), but of plush Indian resorts with fabulous swimming pools and massages, to the Argentinean couple touring China, who talk of the cultural differences and expensive lifestyles in cosmopolitan India, foreigners are no longer bewildered and querulous of this poor, once-rich country. They are now in awe of this rich, poor country that is climbing the lifestyle ladder faster than they can build rungs to the top. What is it that amazes them? The ability of this Asian peace-haven to break the Lakshman rekha of tradition and dance on the bar-top of fire? Or is curiosity to see how this yogic nation can successfully climb out of the quagmire that has been sold to them by a country that failed miserably in doing the same? And can we, the brainiacs of the globe, manage to come a full circle and find material peace with the fire that burns in our souls?

Q&A with Jeev Milkha Singh

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Published: Verve Magazine, Features, January 2007

His winning streak in 2006 – after a seven-year winless drought – has made Jeev Milkha Singh the first Indian ever to rank in the top 50 on the European tour. All set to make his debut appearance at the US Masters 2007, the golfer talks to Sitanshi Talati-Parikh about his myriad experiences on the international circuit

Sincere dedication and a tough fighting spirit have seen Jeev Milkha Singh emerge victorious against all odds last year. Suffering from injuries, India’s first golf superstar surmounted a testing seven-year winless drought with a one-stroke victory at the Volvo China Open in April 2006. A graduate in golf, from the Abilene Christian University in the United States of America, 35-year-old Jeev won the NCAA Divison II individual golf championship in 1993. He was the first Indian golfer to become a member of the European Tour and the US Tour. Keeping up the family tradition apparently comes easy to the sportsman – his father is the ‘Flying Sikh’ and Olympics athlete, Milkha Singh and his mother, Nirmal Kaur, is the former captain of the Indian volleyball team.

Jeev celebrated his birthday last month in a special way, playing at the Volvo Masters of Asia, on the second day at the Thai Country Club – having already won the Volvo China Open and Volvo Masters of Europe. A group of caddies sang for him, as he blew the candles on his birthday cake at the club. At the Asian Tour award function held in Bangkok, he swept three prestigious awards, including the inaugural category for ‘UBS Special Achievement’ for 2006 in addition to winning the ‘Players’ Player of the Year’ and the ‘UBS Order of Merit’.

With a career in steep ascent – his ranking jumped to 37 at the end of the year – 2006 has been an excellent year for the golfer who is currently Asia’s top ranked player. The first Indian ever to figure in the first 50 in the European tour, having recently played with the world champion, Tiger Woods, Jeev Milkha Singh talks with confidence and ease on his birthday, about his experiences and dreams.

Your father once said, ‘Let not people say you are Milkha’s son. Let them say I am Jeev’s father.’ How does he feel about your resurrection in the game?
I think I have found happiness. I am a firm believer in discipline, hard work and honesty in the sport. So far, it has worked out well. My family is pretty proud of me. Without doubt my father has achieved a lot and I feel now that I am getting closer to that pinnacle.

Both your parents are sportspeople. How did they feel about you choosing a sport that was new to the country at the time?
My family has always been very positive and supportive. They did tell me, ‘If you take the plunge, then there is no coming back!’ Whatever I chose, the aim has always been to be the best. I have been very fortunate with those who have helped me reach here. I remember the time when I had discussions with my coach in the US, talking about becoming a professional golfer – and now I have.

What change in mindset drove you to these great heights after your many trials?
It has taken a lot of mental training, hard work and I also changed my swing. Every human being is result oriented. It is all about process and routine. For me, for six years, only the result mattered. The change in my mindset has finally made a difference and it shows in my performance.

What was your experience with the peaks in your career and what have you learnt from the downs?
The game of golf is like a roller coaster. One week you are the best and the next week, you are nobody. No one can be at the top forever – unless of course, you are Tiger Woods! Even now, where I am, I know it is only temporary and the down is around the corner. One can never stop working hard and being mentally strong. It is a mind game and humility makes a big difference.

You recently played with Tiger Woods for the first time….
I was nervous playing with Tiger Woods. But he immediately put me at ease. He is really the best sportsman in the world and I felt comfortable playing with him. It is the greatest thing one golfer can do for another – make someone else relax. I learnt a lot from him, the way he conducts himself, his routine.

What do you think is the future of Indian golf? Do you believe this game can ever match cricket as a favourite sport for the Indian masses?
That is a tough question. I hope and believe that golf in India will come close to cricket in the next 10 years. With due attention being given to it by the performance of the players, enough sponsorship and more money, it may just reach its potential. If we are to do this for our country now, we need to get responsible.

Do you believe that you would have achieved what you did if you had trained in India alone?
Technically, I don’t think so. In India, there is hard work, but no places for practice. There are not enough public courses available. If the common man has to think about playing golf, where can he go? The government should be much more involved. With cricket, for instance, one can go to a park and get started, but it’s not the same for a game like golf.

Do you believe that women will find an acceptable and serious place in golf, especially in India?
I have seen young talent in our country. It can definitely happen here, just like in Japan, where the ladies’ tour is ranked higher than the men’s!

What does a man who has so many firsts want out of life?
I have been very fortunate in what I have achieved. I would like to give something back in return. I want to make this game popular, garner attention and make it seem like a possible dream to get here! One should always dream bigger and take a chance and go for it. I think with sponsorships, big tours, getting the government to open public courses and getting the private courses to give membership to young talent would be a start! In a few years I look forward to starting my own golf academy.

Being one of the busiest players in the world, how do you like living this nomadic lifestyle?
I love playing golf and it is a dream that I am following. I travel worldwide, fulfilling a dream to play well, perform well and make my country proud. Yoga is something that helps me stay relaxed and controlled. I am a huge movie buff, I’m fond of everything – Hollywood, Bollywood and even television shows. Presently, I am watching season five of 24! I love watching Harrison Ford movies and one of my favourite Indian movies is Black. I always carry a portable DVD player in my laptop bag with a 100 DVDs…!

Literature: The Passionate Scotsman

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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

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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

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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)

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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.