Bawa's the Boss

I was watching this hilarious episode of Koffee with Karan last week (before you jump on me with "How can you say humor and Gay Johar in the same breath, PU, lemme clarify, it was just a one off thing), which brought a very special memory of Bombay. Since the url of this blog and its mores root from there, I guess I will never really stop writing about my memories of the city. Coming back: this particular episode of the soppy director/ producer's talk show played host to three performers by who I'm quite tickled. Riteish Deshmukh (for his comic timing), Sajid Khan (for his unabashed bitching of all of the Hindi Film Industry) and Boman Irani (for the life he brings to every character he portrays, his svelte personal countenance and of course, those Bawa dimples).

Boman Irani and I have a personal connection. And while it may sound completely outrageous because he probably didn't even notice it and celebrity encounters happen all the time in a place like Bombay and I
have no reason to claim mine was special, it changed a day and reaffirmed a young girl's belief: that Boman's the Boss! Like ANYONE cares for such a belief either.

Exactly a year ago, when I was barely coming to terms with my job and what not in Bombay, and life seemed nothing short of a hell hole, one evening, I wept silent tears riding pillion behind a jam weilding NiNa
before Khodadad Circle on the bike.

As suddenly as it seemed to have dissolved in the thick traffic, there appeared a white sedan with a very reclined driver's seat and a driver who seemed to have come straight from a trip to the Bahamas. Music
gentlemanly plugged in through the earphones and a boy of about 12 sitting beside him doing ditto.
In a jiffy, Irani and my glances met, and he had this mischievous wink 'n smile as if to say, 'god's design, what to do?'

I will never forget the 0 to 60 my tears did with drying up. I've always believed Irani to be one of the most charismatic personalities among recent entrants in the indian film industry. He has the power to bring terror as efficiently as joy to a room full of individuals on the silver screen. But this one time, he proved he
could also mesmerize off it.

Thank you Boman bawa, for making my royally screwed day better. *hug*

Ooh! -pasana

A few weeks ago Neel stumped me with “Where do you get your Bong music from now?” after I shared a sassier jazz version of a number to which he had first introduced me.

It did not seem normal for me to say, “But of course, Upasana, who else?” because there is nothing ‘but-of-course’ about it. But Neel’s question got me pondering and only two startling similarities came out: Both Bongs who have lived in Bombay for a considerable time and in Kolkata long enough to worship it.

While Neel is, what my music teacher calls a kaan-sen, Upasana also sings. And that is where the two seem to walk their different directions. Oops or Upas (the latter is what I often refer to her for convenience) has become so many things for me in a matter of weeks. While she jests with her husband about it, it is a fact that she and I spend more awake time with each other than she does with her husband!

I’ve now seen Upas around Ron, her mom-in-law, the bosses, her friends, et el and the one thing that hits you, even before the big brown lemur eyes do, is her very active nod, as if to say, “Yes! Yes! I’ll help you with WHATEVER you need!” – From coffee coupons to helping you get to speed with work to finding you the broker’s number for acco in her township to car pooling to letting you use her microwave to cook pasta for a week. There is nothing this angel will say no to if it is in her power. Actually, I could’ve stopped at “There is nothing this angel will say no to,” even if it means bending few rules or just getting by them *wink wink*.

And yet, even this attitude of helping-them-all won’t be what stays with you spot in the middle of a serious meeting as you suddenly start grinning at the memory of a pathetic joke she cracked last afternoon. Her repertoire spans such abysmal excuses for humour that you’d have to be insane to laugh (as we are and so we do). She can beat Sriram Ayyar, Priyanca Vaishnav AND Akhil Chakravarty hands down. The incidental one-off-ers don’t even stand a chance!

A chance is what Upasana will also not give you when it comes to desserts and food. Think butter chicken and the first image that pops in my mind, is of a salivating Upasana Sanyal. When cake is ordered for a birthday celebration at office, not the budday-boy/ girl nor the cake shop is consulted on what would be the best flavour. Madame Sanyal fields “आज कौनसा order करें?” with panache: “Belgian chocolate? Strawberry and Black Forest?” And when her majesty, the queen of desserts and the best judge of ANY cuisine is to pass her final verdict, everyone awaits it with bated breath.

Upasana has cheered up many a heart-broken evenings and the ends of several straight-from-hell days at work with her upbeat chatter and mad acts like waving crazily at the boss from the driver’s seat like we haven’t seen her in ages (while actually saying bye to her only less than half an hour back). Upasana is also capable of leaving you alone when you need to shed the silent tears or extract them from you when you’re suppressing them to evade attention with a simple five-worder.

It is not hard to comprehend Upasana. It is, though, to fathom her energy.