Dubai is an Emirate which has always fascinated me. Transmogrifying itself from a sleepy fishing village, into a concrete ogre that it has now become, it is at first glance stunningly beguiling but hypnotizingly chimerical once you scratch its surface. It is also a utopian dream that can disintegrate into the very same dust it has arisen from, with just an untimely shrug of Mother Nature’s already jaded shoulders.

Dubai is a quixotic apparition – an inveigling shapeshifting specter that entices you. I visited it a week back for work, and noticed a slew of new attractions which have popped in the last couple of years. Of course, it is currently in the news for all the wrong reasons, but let’s not go there – we have been unnecessarily inundated by the fatuous and asinine media brouhaha about the unfortunate demise of a film star. Dubai was built on the diaphoresis and cruor expended by thousands of gullible and naïve Asians – mostly Indians and Pakistanis (working in unison, without echoing the trans-border aggression of their respective governments). The Indians, thanks to their enhanced English-speaking skills, and chiefly due to their inane ability to survive the worst of conditions, used an escalator to ascend the upper echelons of Dubai’s social hierarchy. So much so that there was a time when Indians were part of not just the business and private sector, but also in mid-level governmental positions.

Things started going south for the Indians when the UAE government started a localization drive to get more Arabs into public and private sector. Indians soon got unceremoniously pushed out of their cushy admin jobs, and they barely managed to retain jobs requiring technical and professional skills… but not for long. Over the past few years I have noticed that Filipinos have taken over almost all the pink-collar jobs (which was once the fiefdom of our countrymen) – they dress smart, speak good English and work at salaries far less than what Indians demand. Many of the technology jobs are in the process of being taken over by Sri Lankans – they too speak good English and show far more patience when dealing with their cantankerous Arab superiors. The construction industry is now dominated by Bangladeshis who do not mind the harsh weather conditions, so long as they can escape the drudgery of their own country. Many Pakistanis have taken advantage of the ease of doing business in Dubai and have entered businesses that were earlier run by Indians. In short, Indians have managed to get themselves demoted in almost all walks of life in Dubai. It is no rocket science to guess that Indians themselves are to blame for this fall from grace. Most Indians tend to get falsely self-righteous, pretentious and presumptuous once we taste success. We are never mollified with what we have in hand, and always indulge in bizarre and never-ending games of one-upmanship with others. The secret about remaining successful is to keep pushing boundaries and create new narratives. What Indians in their complacency tend to do is to allow others to redefine the proverbial box, and get entombed in these newly defined boundaries! And that is what happened in Dubai too. Not that all Indians are in this situation – there are some extremely well-to-do and successful Indians too.

In the two years that I was an erstwhile resident, I have seen otherwise vociferous Indians meekly surrendering to the demands of the Dubai government – Indians who vituperatively haul the Indian government over coals for the very same issues. Some examples – giving out the minutest of their personal details for the Emirates ID card (akin to our Aadhaar card); a cyclic increase in parking charges and road tolls; the barbarously unforgiving weather conditions that blue-collar workers labour under, and the abominably punitive conditions in which they reside in; compulsory learning of Arabic in schools; the exorbitant real estate rates; obligatory job reservations for locals; the subtle but omni-present bias favouring white-skinned individuals; accepting the recently introduced VAT without a word of protest… I can fill cumbrous tomes with this.

Sadly, this inclination to misstate exists within India too. We like to pontificate and indulge in finger-pointing rather than introspect and improve. Misplaced priorities are now personal habits and arm-chair activism a national hobby. Instead of being thankful that bank scams are finally coming out into the open, we blame the government for letting the charlatans flee; Aadhaar card registrations have wiped out millions of phony ration cards holders, but we only crib about inconvenience; we are willing to allow smart phones access personal details, but cry wolf about data breaches by UIDAI… and so on! This may sound like a rant, but needs a serious rethink by all of us. We cannot keep blaming others for our misfortune, while blithely ignoring our own fallacies. Time to clear the cobwebs of our mind…



While the jury is out on the recent statement made by a leading actor, the whole nation seems to have slid into a collective form of frenzied palpitation. I personally have nothing against Indian movies (I avoid most of them), but I find all this brouhaha about the release of Padmavati highly frivolous. All the ruckus seems to be a stage-managed show, scripted and acted out with the collusion of the people who stand to benefit from it. And since the opposition parties in this country have been virtually rendered jobless by the Modi juggernaut, they are creating their own narrative on this non-issue. Some have even gone to the silly extent of proclaiming that this issue proves how polarized we have become as a nation!!!

Sometime back “intolerance” was trending. Everyone from local shopkeepers to diamond-dripping socialites were chanting this. It soon became a status symbol for many who misused it to prove their (pseudo) secular credentials. Government-granted awards were returned with aplomb (maybe they finally realized that they did not deserve it!). Reams of newspaper and prime TV time was needlessly expended commentating and debating by a few left-leaning individuals and the above-mentioned “secularists”, creating a contrived atmosphere of scepticism and mistrust. In the bargain, realism became the inopportune casualty of the banality that got purveyed in the guise of analytical journalism. The latest trending word is “regressive”. All the old narratives have been dug out from dusty shelves, find-and-replace done, and “regressive” has conveniently supplanted “intolerance”. That these things come up just when a state election is around the corner is surely coincidental! A fringe group, who no one had heard of, raises cudgels against the “immoral” depiction of their “queen”. Before anyone could say boo, the media and self-styled upholders of artistic freedom, have declared it a monumental failure on the part of the Prime Minister (???) and an unconstitutional endeavour at curbing their freedom of expression. At the other end of the spectrum, pretentious “nationalists” have labelled the movie a salacious attempt at elevating a historically-established tyrant to the Bollywood version of a hopelessly lost lover-boy, while maligning their “religion” in their process (!!!). And all this without either side having viewed the movie (amazingly, at the time of writing this, even the Indian film censor-board has not). As a consequence of this preventable free-for-all, a fringe group gets their moment of glory, and even before its release, the movie can safely be declared a colossal hit. The actors, producers and director superfluously playing the anger / sympathy / regression card are just grist to their detractors’ mill.

According to me, true regression is when Indian movies justify heroes eve-teasing or molesting women openly; regression is also when an educated heroine is shown as a meek housewife, silently accepting all the physical, verbal, mental and other vile abuse thrown at her; it is when men from the film industry conveniently convert their religion to legalize bigamy and validate their contumacious libido; when celebrities literally get away with murder because they are powerful enough to subvert the due process of law; it is when actors shy away from naming the numerous producers / directors who have audaciously exploited them (as is being done in Hollywood), for fear of being shunned by our flagitous movie industry; it is when any woman is molested and bystanders are busy uploading pictures rather than helping her; it is when we break laws and grease palms to get away with it; it is when people accept sixty years of mismanagement and moral corruption of the nation by a particular political family and still want to see them back in power; it is when unverified reports, one-sided lies and half-truths are furnished by the media, stoking the already smouldering embers of disquietude – a recent case is the one where the government dropped two movies from their annual film festival (they were well within their rights to do so), but it was made out by the media (and celebrities) to be another attempt to subdue (mostly incompetent) artists; it is also when the common man’s mind is made the playground for political games, with religion as the goalpost; it is when an abhorrent politician or celebrity disgustingly questions the integrity of the very army which ensures that these cretins sleep peacefully in their homes; it is when we refuse to have faith in ourselves and lose hope for our country. Above all, regression is when we the people of this country accept it all and move on to consume the next divisive item served in the abominable menu offered to us by vested interests.

Every country has its unique set of problems, which in our case is augmented manifold due to overwhelming population and dynamic polyglottism. India is an idea whose time has come, and we as a nation need to have fidelity towards this idea. Forget the politicians and forget the nay-sayers – till we individually do not clean up the cobwebs of our minds, we will continue to allow such deplorable spiders of degenerating thoughts, to manipulate and make their cosy homes within us!


There has been so much of media-manufactured drama unfolding across the country, that I did not feel the need to add to it by writing a blog. Our raucous media is busy promoting a thoroughly undeserving “prince”, while shamelessly extolling the benefits of dynastic rule. Patriotism is now a dirty word and faux-secularism is the new armour for petulant “liberals”, and arm-chair satirists for whom the proposed bullet train is the new whipping boy. Playing politics over human tragedy and finger-pointing are the new games being bandied about, with blaming the incumbent government for all woes being the latest trend. Not that these problems did not exist earlier, but we are now unfortunate enough to have media that is blatant in its misreporting, misinformation and misdirection.

Amongst all this, I had the engagement ceremony of my nephew to attend. Vinay is someone I have seen metamorphize from a new-born to the strapping young man that he is now. I had missed his elder brother Ajay’s engagement a couple of years back, so I made it a point to attend this one. In addition to socializing within the family (I am famously notorious for being anti-social), such functions are an interesting place for character studies. It always presents a plethora of various characters who are interesting as well as amusing. The occasions, venues and people may change, but most character traits among its participants remain the same.

Like there is always some senior citizen (mainly elderly uncles / aunts) who exclaim that you are a doppelganger of your late grandparent. One other pet peeve of such senior citizens is the fact that my hair has started graying. I steadfastly refuse to colour my hair and the said seventy-plus senior citizen has jet black hair, so imagine the comedy that plays out for onlookers!

There is always the over enthusiastic individual who wants to be the first on stage to congratulate the couple getting engaged / married. You will notice such individuals perennially hanging around the stage, waiting for the on-stage rituals to conclude. Even before the dust has settled, this individual will display amazing acrobatic skills and land up on the stage somewhere close to the bewildered couple, who are still recovering from the intensity of the deific but incoherent mumblings of the priest. Short of photo-bombing, this individual will hover around the couple like a land-based drone that is about to annihilate the few moments of peace that the couple try to steal in the ensuing melee.

In every such function, there will always be a disgruntled or angry relative (mainly elderly uncles / aunts), who feels slighted by some inexplicable offense perpetrated on him by the already hassled parents. He will stand in one corner gnashing his teeth, sipping on the umpteenth glass of the welcome drink, staring past bushy eyebrows at the stage, like an old black-and-white movie villain. Its only thanks to the wonders of modern technology, the poor dentures stand the test of this monstrous bicuspid pressure. Only multiple unconditional apologies from the parents – who are as confused about the reason for his “hurt”, as some traders are about GST – can assuage his feelings.

There will always be someone who looks confused in any such function. This individual will keep vacillating as to when to go on stage, when to go towards the food counter and when to leave. You can identify such individuals by their propensity to approach the stage, the food counter and the exit at multiple times, without completing the act they initiated. They usually remain equally confused even when you meet them in the next function.

Then there are the bored or the indifferent ones, who usually sit in a cluster and pass cynical comments on the happenings around them. They mean no harm, but this is just their way of keeping themselves amused in what they consider dreary circumstances. You can always identify such individuals – they sit somewhere at the back of the venue and keep talking among themselves, displaying least interest in the proceedings around them.

And finally comes the foodie. This individual’s main aim in any such function is to eat! This individual is usually the first to win the race to reach the food counter and check out the sumptuous feast laid before him / her. They never hesitate in giving their gratuitous but uncalled-for views on the quality of food. They have abject gymnastic skills which they make use of, after loading their plate with mini hillocks of food and scrambling to find a place to sit, in the process invariably dropping curry or gravy on some unsuspecting soul. The way they contrive their bodies, expertly balancing their laden plate, will put the best of yoga gurus to shame!

The above is not written with malice towards anyone in particular – they are just my personal observations, which I find hugely enjoyable at such functions. These characters exist in all functions, and I am sure most of you have been witness to these (and more). If not, then be on the lookout – observe and be entertained!


I dread watching movies that open in a hospital – you know for sure that the ending would either be copiously tragic or unrealistically happy. So it was with utmost trepidation that I attended a friends and family show organized by celebrated fashion designer Vikram Phadnis for his debut directorial venture – Hrudayantar.

Our association with Vikram goes back a whole generation. His parents and my late in-laws were the best of friends, which has continued to the present generation (Vikram and his sister are very close to my wife and sister-in-law), and continues into the next (his niece and our daughter are very good friends). In fact, my in-laws played a major role in Vikram’s parents (both doctors) getting married! As a child, Vikram would keep repeating that when he grew up he wanted to be a part of the film industry just like Jatin Kaka (my late father-in-law). He took his initial tentative steps by starting out as a fashion choreographer and then graduated to being a fashion designer. He soon gained popularity and was a highly sought after designer for most of the top stars from the industry. Vikram initially floated the idea of directing a movie some thirteen years back, and had a script ready for the same. He had even announced his intentions and had spoken to a few stars too. Unfortunately, things did not work out the way he wanted them to, and saw his plans peter out, but Vikram never gave up on his dream. While his fashion designing flourished (he completed 25 years in the industry recently), he always kept the vision of making a movie in the forefront of his creatively active mind. About four years back, he rewrote the story, changed the patois from Hindi to Marathi, signed up some stellar Marathi actors and finally realized his dream – Vikram’s movie released last week to a rousing reception.

As far as the movie goes, the story is something that we have seen in many movies over the years. But the cinematic treatment, character development, direction, acting and most importantly scripting is outstanding, and believe me, I am not saying this just because I know Vikram personally. I have always believed that a good scene is where the dialogues are kept to the minimum and the script conveys the director’s vision – Hrudayantar has many such moments. Well-known actress Mukta Barve plays an ad professional who also manages her home, while Subodh Bhave plays her husband as a hotelier who has hardly any time for his family. They have both given exceptional performances – Mukta’s reaction in the scene where she comes to know about her daughter’s disease is heart-rending, and Subodh in the scene he gives a monologue explaining his perspective of the marriage breaking down is downright brilliant. But the movie belongs to the two child artistes who play their kids (Trushnika Shinde and Nishtha Vaidya) – they are mind-blowing. How Vikram managed to get such terrific performances from these debutantes is something of a wonder. When I asked him about this he was modest enough to say that they are natural born actors (but I know how good he is with kids). Just as their crumbling marriage breaks down completely, the couple are informed that their elder daughter (all of ten years) is a patient of leukemia. The family coping with this devastating news forms the crux of the movie. Dialogues are simple and the conversations feel like normal people discussing matters in their households. For those who do not follow Marathi, Vikram has done the subtitling himself – not a literal translation, but a contextual one which makes it easy to comprehend. For me the highlight of the movie were the scenes where the script makes the actors emote with just their understated facial expressions and restrained hand gestures. The music also ably supports the screenplay by being inclusive and not trying to go for cacophony in the name of exclusivity. Of course, there are a few minor flaws (it is a tad bit slow in the first half), but the overall effect of the movie more than makes up for it. Those close to me know that I rarely express my emotions while watching movies, but this one truly made me choke in some scenes. This movie truly brings about a Hrudayantar – a transformation of the heart.

This one is also a lesson for all married couples who, over a period of time into matrimony, tend to take each other for granted. This movie reiterates the fact that marriage is a complex institution which requires some adjustments, a little bit of compromise, a dash of pacification, coupled with lots of tender loving care (from both sides). The other take for me personally from this is that one should never give up on your dreams – Vikram took thirteen years to realize his! Walt Disney expressed this best when he said, “All our dreams can come true if we have the courage to pursue them”. So dear reader, remember that it is never too late to pursue your dreams!


I made the annual acquaintance with my birthday last week, and a lot of my well-wishers wanted me to write a blog in celebration. My answer to all of them was that I would convert my divagating thoughts to meaningful words once I sober down after the partying. In between the revelries some random observations (all my own, with malice towards no one) did traipse into my mind, which I have collated below.

Family and friends mean a lot: Going by the blessings and good wishes I received for my birthday, I can easily live up to the ripe age of one million! A big thank you to all for taking time out for wishing me through your messages and phone calls. As I like to say, if I were to count these blessings in terms of coinage, then I am the richest man in the world. And no amount of thanks would be enough for the efforts made by my wife and daughter in ensuring that every birthday of mine is an unforgettable commemoration. I am not very overtly communicative when it comes to expressing love, but they are indisputably the world around which my life revolves.

Gray hair and maturity: The experiences we gain while moseying through life is undoubtedly the world’s best teacher, but a teacher we refuse to learn from. Occasionally I behave indecorously with my wife and daughter (which I regret later), knowing fully well that I am at fault, but it is something that I have been trying to remedy. I persist doing some things which I should avoid (gorging on cholesterol-rich food), while avoiding doing things I should (driving sagaciously on open roads). I still try to out-shout my adolescent daughter in an argument, knowing fully well that she is just a growing girl who likes to express herself candidly. So gray hair is definitely changing me for the better, but has not yet brought the desired level of maturity.

Daughters better in all aspects: In a country where the game of cricket is a religion, the Indian men’s cricket team is unarguably the most overrated commodity. At the same time, the financially restricted women’s team is the most under-rated. I have always believed that daughters are definitely stronger than sons – the past few days have proven that given the same facilities and money, the women in blue can turn our men green with envy. But unfortunately we still pay superfluous obeisance to “boys”, while ignoring the more talented “girls”.

The transmuting social fabric of India: An alarming trend developing in India, where selective protests are being held in the name of one unlawful and deplorable lynching of a young boy, but not others. How can the equally shocking murders of a Kashmiri policeman or the Pune resident (who was only protecting her cat) be any less important? Have we debased ourselves to such a level that we are now playing politics with cold-blooded murders? Similarly, terming anyone with views opposed to your own as “bhakts” or “anti-nationals”, is equally appalling. Our armed forces may not paint themselves in glory for the civil society, but they are the ones who are valiantly trying to keep our borders safe, and for that alone deserve all the kudos they can get.

The disintegrating fourth estate: The media, which should ideally be presenting balanced, analytical and unbiased views seem busy polarizing the country using stories “allegedly” served to them by “vested” interests. A recent example being the confusion and misinformation being spread about the new tax regime. Having studied GST from close quarters, I can confidently say that it is definitely not as complicated as it is being made out to be. If monitored and implemented strictly, it can usher in a new era of tax reforms in India. Similarly, Indira Gandhi is suddenly being hailed as the best Prime Minister our country ever had, and Modi (who has a similar exacting leadership style) becomes a tyrant! Equally laughable are the attempts made to portray the Congress as the one who floated the ideas being now “copied” by Modi. If so, why could they not implement it? After all they were in power for more than 10 years (of course, they were busy looting the country)! The idea of a maturing democracy cannot be based on individuals or dynasties, but on our collective responsibilities. Governing a country as diverse, populous and divisive as ours is not a cake-walk, and anyone attempting to do so does not deserve such venomous vilification.

As I mentioned above, these are my personal observations and not many may agree with me. But unlike some of our celebrity rabble-rousers, I am open to critique. We pretentiously advise our children to clear the clutter in their room, but do we personally clear the clutter that we carry inside our heads? Over the years I have grown wiser (not older) and learned that life does not allow anyone to play catch with it, so don’t waste time fretting, fuming and holding on to your obstinate egos. Let go… move on… smile and spread a lot of smiles around.


Everyone who knows me will vouch for the fact that I am a voracious reader. As I have mentioned in some of my previous blogs, I inherited the reading habit from my late grandfathers – from both sides of the family. Both were avid readers and exemplary writers, (though their writing was quite limited). If blogs and the internet existed during their times, I am sure both would have been published many times over. I do remember the times when my maternal grandfather used to dictate official letters, while being amazed at the way he structured and worded it. He even had a manual typewriter on which he used to type some of the letters himself. My paternal grandfather would read the Time of India from the first word till the last, and would remember almost everything that he read. Every time we cousins used to announce our class results, grandfather would only be interested in the marks we scored in English!

I personally prefer purchasing printed books (rather than the currently ubiquitous eBooks). I was part of a library a long time ago, but I found that it made more sense for me to buy books and read them at leisure. The smell of freshly printed pages, the thrill of holding the book in your hands and physically turning pages as you read, can never be replicated by its electronic equivalent. Though I am a hardcore fiction fan, I also read other genres, including non-fiction, autobiographies, mythology (Indian and global), inspirational and self-help books, newspapers, and even comics (which are suavely termed graphical novels these days). In fiction I prefer thrillers, murder mysteries, fantasy and sci-fi – I believe that life in general is tough anyways, so a little bit of escapism through such books is always welcome. Thrillers (James Bond, Modesty Blaise, Jack Reacher, Gabriel Allon, etc.) and fantasy (Game of Thrones series, despite GRRM’s wearisome style of character building to move the story forward, Conan the Barbarian, Hobbit series, etc.) are some of my favourites. In mythology I am an avid reader of Devdutt Pattanaik, a modern mythologist who cleverly draws parallels between Indian and world mythologies, subtly drawing the reader into contemplating the similarities while appreciating the differences. In autobiographies the best I have read so far is Mahatma Gandhi’s, “My Experiments with Truth” – a brutally honest self-evaluation, laying bare all the warts and sores that the great man had. Though I am not his biggest of fans, the autobiography is an eye-opener for anyone who wants to understand the man. It also shows how good autobiographies should be written. This is so unlike the recent over-hyped one of a Hindi movie producer / director, which is a contemptible exercise in mediocrity, repetitiveness, balderdash and inanity. But then these are apt adjectives to describe our vacuous Hindi movie industry anyway! One exception is the recent autobiography of the erstwhile leading romantic hero, which I hope to complete soon. I do not have a huge bookshelf with aspirational books kept for show – like you see in most people’s homes. People who like show off such bookshelves have hardly read any of the books on display – this becomes obvious when you ask them exploratory questions about some of these books.

Reading is one habit which I always encourage children to cultivate. This is easier said than done, with many people not really interested in reading tomes. But reading does not mean only books – reading comics (the ones that are meant for children) is a good beginning. There are so many books written specifically for kids these days – take the Harry Potter series (though I am not such a big fan), or better still any of the children’s books written by the inimitable Roald Dahl or Ruskin Bond. A daily reading of the newspapers will be extremely influential in your life. Not that in today’s age of post-truths and half-baked information, reading newspapers is such a good idea, but these are excellent methods of inculcating the reading habit in children, teenagers and adults. Even a studied skimming of headlines would give enough material to keep one updated enough to be an erudite contributor in any discussion on current topics. I sometimes even read movie scripts (as and when I can get hold of them online) to understand the vision of the writer, and then watch the movie to see how the director has translated it onto the big screen. One script I would love to get my hands on is that of Bahubali – it would be didactic to delve into the movie script of India’s biggest blockbuster.

Reading is a habit that opens up phantasmagorical pastures of imagination for children in which they can play to their heart’s content. It enriches and enhances mental growth, while opening new perspectives for a child to indulge and partake in. For children, it throws open doors while adults see only windows that they fear to look through. And you will agree that the good habits you develop in your nonage stay with you till dotage. I would like to end with the quote from one of my favourite writers, George R. R. Martin, which is very apt for all of us – “A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies… the man who never reads lives only once”.


I had been suffering from a temporary bout of writer’s block. For the past few weeks, I had been toying around with various ideas – I even started writing one on the biggest (in scale and production values) and highest grossing (1000 crores and counting!!!) Indian movie, but there has been so many reams written on this one already that anything I write would pale in comparison. A few topical political issues traipsed into my mind, but slinked away quietly. I have decided to religiously (pun intended) avoid any write-up involving politics, since it invariably gets me branded by pseudo liberals as a “bhakt” – even when presented with sound logic and verified facts. Then a recently hosted get-together for my wife’s side of the family, planted a seed of an idea into my mind, which I nurtured into this.

I am married into a Gujarati family (and extremely happy about it), which at most times is delightful, but at others is certifiably quaint! As per Indian traditions one does not marry an individual but an entire family, which is true in my case too. Fortunately, I am always treated like royalty (make no mistake, Gujarati’s always treat their sons-in-law as royalty), and this accounts for my perennially happy state of mind. Gujaratis, and most definitely my wife’s side of the family, love food – irrespective of whether they are eating or feeding, they just love food! There has never been an occasion wherein I visited a relative’s house and have not been treated to epicurean delights – the starters are always delectable and the main course is always an opulent spread. What we ordinary mortals call dessert is something that runs throughout the course of a meal for Gujaratis – sweets can be consumed as starters, main course… and off course! Have you ever travelled with a Gujarati family? Believe me, neither the mode of transport nor location matters – they carry enough food for themselves, co-passengers, attendants, drivers, pilots, for the denizens of the place they are travelling to… and some more. Gujaratis somehow seem to travel with this perpetual fear of a provender apocalypse. You can rest assured that if a Gujarati family is travelling, the bag with victuals will far outweigh other baggage. A Gujarati family will remain relatively calm if an airline misplaces their luggage, but will definitely go ballistic if their bag of comestibles is misplaced! So if you are in the company of a Gujarati, please ensure that you do not make deprecating remarks against food.

The other thing that propels my wife’s side of the family out of stupor is Hindi movies. The family’s WhatsApp group is usually dormant… until there is some discussion on movies (or food). Any mention of movies (or food) and the group goes into an unprecedented hyper-active mode, with debates, arguments, recipes and movie dialogues going viral in the group. My grandfather-in-law, his siblings, and most of his progeny were closely involved in the Hindi movie industry. From the current generation, my wife’s niece works in a well-known actor-producer-director’s company, while another relative is an actress (she starred as one of the main leads in a highly celebrated on-going American TV series). A celebrated South Indian movie actor-director-producer and his actress wife, are very close family friends of ours. When we attended a popular Hindi play recently, the director who has also directed movies, instantly recognized my wife (he had last seen her over two decades back). He fondly recollected the delectable dinner parties hosted by my in-laws on their building terrace which he used to attend. In toto, it is like movies are part of their bloodstream – in fact, there was an uncle who used to joke that if you cut the veins of any family member of the late Vasantrai Desai, you would get film reels spurting out instead of blood! Any family pow-wow becomes a virtual hotspot for exchanging movie trivia and salacious gossip about the movie industry (culinary recipes too!).

In general, this is a community that likes to distribute happiness… and if there are some confectionaries to go with it, the better. I have rarely seen a Gujarati who looks dejected (except maybe losers in the stock market). Their immaculate hospitality skills apart (you will never step out hungry from a Gujarati household), their happy-go-lucky attitude towards life, and extravagance in everything that they do, this is a community that works hard through the week (they also happen to be one of the richest communities in India), only to party harder during the weekends. I am lucky that I am now an honorary member of this culturally rich and gastronomically diverse community.

Over the past thirteen years that I have been married, I have realized that my wife’s family is simply expressing their irrefutable love and affection for me through food. And this has actually humbled me to such an extent that I simply gorge on this food – something that has got metamorphosed as the unchecked growth of my erstwhile waif-like waistline!