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A NOSE FOR MELODY - THE BALLAD OF REMIX HIMESH

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I wrote this piece for Time Out when Himesh Reshammiya first became a thing - when he replaced Altaf Raja in my nightly auto rickshaw rides. It's a pity Time Out didn't keep its archives online, so if I want to share something I wrote for them I have to do it here. These were early writings on culture for me, and I think I was quite lucky to have the space to write about things other people thought were quite faltu - such as this piece on Rendezvous With Simi Garewal  (of which I was was an ardent fan ) and a new singer I heard on the radio called Rabbi Shergill :) I also wrote about my ongoing Himesh amusements on this blog at the time - about going to see Aap Ka Suroor and then! Meeting some people who had acted in the film in Stuttgart :D as well as seeing a fab docu on the Making of Aap Ka Suroor! Anyway the reason all this came back to me is that I just stumbled upon a truly genius instagram account called Himesh Doing Things , which I believe was #madeforme and well, Hi

Bodily Fluid: The Movement of Bollywood Dance from Body to Body

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I wrote this essay for a book called tiltpauseshift: Dance Ecologies in India, published by Gati Dance Forum. I'm sharing it because Saroj Khan's passing made me remember it. Bodily Fluid: The Movement of Bollywood Dance from Body to Body Paromita Vohra For long, the song-and-dance elements of Indian cinema were seen as guilty pleasures, not to mention proof of its artistic inferiority. Even today, when this approach is being reassessed, it is not uncommon to hear the dismissive term ‘dancing around trees’. It is presented as an emblem of popular Hindi cinema’s infantile silliness, apparently on account of both un-realism and coyness about sex, disallowed by censorship. Into present time, directors of the new wave of Bollywood ‘indies’ declare their squeamishness with the song-and-dance routine, and talk about how they work around it in their films as it is a necessity of the market rather than an artistic preference. Their solutions are often pr

SOME PLACES TO DONATE FOR COVID LOCKDOWN FALLOUT

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The Lockdown in India has had a devastating effect on so many sections of the poor - daily wage workers now without any earnings, migrant workers left to walk home on their own, sex workers, transfolx. Some people are starting up initiatives and this is not exhaustive. I'm just putting it down in one place because I think Facebook becomes very scattered. In terms of how to donate, I think we should not feel anxious that what we are giving is not enough. Every bit does count. You can do it two ways. Figure out what you can afford to give, increase your first figure just a little if possible, then either give all to one or give a little to a few initiatives (I'm dong the latter). Please try not to think thoughts like 'these people are stupid why don't they stay put' etc. These are people no one has factored into their planning. Don't feel that because people criticize the government and you disagree, your only option is to also criticize the poor. You can

Now You Simi, Now You Don't

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So Simi Garewal's show is coming back! Here's an old piece I wrote about her in Time Out Mumbai (which alas, is not online) a long long time ago, thanks to the encouragement of Nandini Ramnath. NOW YOU SIMI, NOW YOU DON’T It’s time to hold hands in a pink and white freeze frame again. Rendezvous with Simi Garewal will kick off its ninth season on Feb.12 with new sets – although let’s face it, how many shades of white can you do on TV? But news of this return isn’t exactly generating thrill and thrall. First there are those who hate to love Simi. They look ambivalent and sheepish, then cite the Camp Defence. Yes, Simi is truly the queen of camp. But the kitsch poshness, the demented whiteness, the insistent well-keptness can take you only so far. The truth is – we love celebrities and Simi pulls in the A-list and makes them talk, not just re-state their celebrity, which is what makes the show a delicious indulgence. In much larger numbers are

Bas ik jhijhak - to Papa on his birthday

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Since my father passed away in 2005, I’ve tried on his birthday to write something for him, to remember him in. I haven’t always managed to do it here – of late it has been small things on Facebook I guess. Today too, it is almost the end of the day when I have the opportunity to write this, a fact that as usual would have made him tsk tsk about my misplaced priorities, my lack of real discipline. There were many things about my father, which, as time has gone by, and as I too am older, with a head and heart more weathered than before, I see now, were truly special things. One of these was his love of poetry, especially Urdu poetry. As a child in Lahore and even after moving to Delhi during Partition, he had studied only Urdu and English. I am not sure where his great love for Urdu poetry came from actually – whether it was part of the cultural milieu or whether he had acquired it from some friends. But I knew it was always there. Ghalib was his favourite poet. I did not understa