Celebs Gone Wild. The saga continues...

Today was not my day. One of those 'got out of the wrong side of bed' ones.
The good news however, is that Axl Rose had a solid reason to bite the security guy's thigh at a hotel in Stockholm (thigh being so much more ewwer than 'leg' which is what I was going with yesterday.) Give the guy a break. I mean the rooms at this hotel were not good enough for the man which is totally unacceptable. But rather than looking for another hotel and firing his travel agency, he started yelling like a rockstar knows how. When the security guard told him to keep it down, Axl pushed him and the guard responded by pulling him down to the floor by the braids (ouuuuch) which is precisely when the biting occured. Pulling hair can do that.
Well put across by a reader, it is certainly a bad sign when they start biting...definitely the end of the line. But like I said already, if you've ever had your braids pulled on, you can empathize somewhat.
The other reader comment to yesterday's post is hilarious and so true! Poor Suri...not only will papa look at her less lovingly as she didn't meet his annual baby revenue targets, but 'therapy' for the poor kid is going to be a nice chunky line item in his balance sheet!

Celebs Gone Wild.

What is going with celebs right now? As if Axl Rose hadn't had enough fun with Tommy Hilfiger (they had a good punching match last month) the Guns n' Roses head honcho was arrested in Stockholm yesterday after allegedly biting a security guard in the leg at his hotel. Yes you read that right. Biting him in the leg??? I mean if you want to bite a leg why would you pick a hairy 55 year old man's leg? Why Axl why? You had it so good man.
And frankly I'm sick of Naomi and her maids suing her every three seconds. I mean the woman is cleary a mean bitch. Hello. You know how cranky you get when you skip even one meal...well what do you expect after 20 something years of supermodelling? Poor dear obviously doesn't have enough designer jeans that she has to throw a cell phone at a starving maid who was borrowing just one pair on a long-term basis.
I don't care who you are...if you have it better than someone else, especially if you have it soooo much better, be nice and let it go already. And stop bashing up people for goodness sake.
My last beef on this topic today is Tom Cruise hanging on to pictures of his baby girl Suri and not releasing them to the press because he isn't getting the right price for them. Apparently Cruise is offended that his baby's photos have not commanded as much $$$ as Brangelina's baby. We're talking $4 million here by the way. For baby pics. Ouch. I didn't know babies were an incremental revenue stream for ageing actors did you?
Once again, celebrities continue to remind us in their fun little ways that money and power is everything. Sigh.

My Dancing Queen.

I love Madonna. And when I saw her last night on tour wearing a shiny robe with the words 'Dancing Queen' sequined on the back and with a lining of twinkling lights, singing 'Lucky Star' like it was 1983, I realized there is only one person in the universe truly worthy of that title and boy is it her!
What a night! Sheer brilliance I tell you.
Song after song, or rather I should say performance after performance...each piece was a work of art. That's what I love about her so much, she actually has a message, a strong %$!@# message! Oddly enough, my favorite moments of the concert (concert is a lowly word to use in this case) and the parts I actually remember vividly (don't you hate when the whole show is a blur a second after it's over!) weren't even when Madonna was singing...they were:
-A captivating and emotional several minute-long video montage of world horrors, from AIDS to images of war, terrorism and a mockery of Bush, all set to a fabulously jarring tune with interludes by Madonna. The last screen read 'the audience is listening'. Very amazing. You had to be there.
-Her album (Confessions on A Dance Floor) literally brought to life through three gripping solo performances by her dance troupe members. They were talking, confessing, dancing passionately...it was so raw and so real. Ironically, I'm convinced her dancers are either genetically modified or robots. They are unbelievable.

Of course, the night was filled with many political, religious, sexual and philanthrophic messages. Madonna showed everyone the finger, appeared as Jesus crucified on a cross, stuck her hands down the front of her pants and then shook hands with audience members...I could go on.
She doesn't shock me though. I love that she can do these things at 47. I love that she can prance around like a 16 year old and dance her perky yogified butt off. I love that she didn't stop giving her 200% on the concert stage that was her dance floor, despite the "bitches in the front row" who refused to get up and groove. Most of all I loved when she sang 'La Isla Bonita' which is my best Madonna song ever and which I have been singing since I was six years old. Everyone has one.
The 250 mile journey on a Monday night to go see my Dancing Queen was worth every second. (Don't even ask...ever heard of a yatra?)
She opens tomorrow night at Madison Square Garden. You HAVE GOT to GO people.

Summer Solstice Scene.

If you read my first blog post ever you would know I'm somewhat passionate (not the right word really) about the HPV-Cervical cancer issue. Time magazine (no I don't work for them) just featured a piece on the cultural debate that has spurred since the FDA approved the new HPV vaccine, Gardasil (don't even get me started on the name). Here is the article for those of you who care: http://www.time.com/time/nation/article/0,8599,1206813,00.html
Just so you know, I do have a strong opinion on this particular topic but I'll save it for another day.

On a (much) lighter note...
Yesterday was the official start of summer. Dreams of sunny beaches, backyard barbeques and lazy walks along the pier.
For the average Manhattanite however, summer means it's not too cold to stand in lines and take the partying up a notch.
Let me explain.
A bunch of us went out last night, not to celebrate the summer solstice (as good an occasion as that is) but to show an 'out-of-town' friend a good time in the city and bring in his birthday. We started the evening at a new hot spot '230 Fifth,' a fabulous rooftop venue atop an unassuming office building on 27th and 5th. Unassuming until of course you put a red velvet rope outside the place and a bouncer or three. Throw in two lines (one for regular folks like myself and the other for the Manhattan somebodys) a few clamouring model-types and several hundred investment bankers and you've basically got yourself a good old 'New York City Scene'.
The inherent problem with scenes is unless you are on a list or getting bottle service you are pretty much like chewing gum on the bottom of a last season Prada suede boot. You're annoying and uncalled for.
It was a Wednesday night people...the line and attitude was a rude surprise. Excuse me for not knowing that summer solstice and private parties go hand in hand. Who are these people throwing these parties and why don't I know any of them anyway?
Many minutes and several protesting whines later we made it up there. 230 Fifth is a gorgeous place. The views are stunning and the crowd even more so. Not that you can see much of either given that you're pretty much stuffed into a corner. Being barely over 5 feet tall doesn't exactly 'heighten' the experience. Sorry that was plain corny.
So I thought to myself..ok this place is pretty new which explains how crazily packed it is and how hard it was to get in but moving on to another rooftop venue in the city -- 'BED' the situation was worse. Standing in yet another line close to midnight and no we weren't on the list, it was only a well-thought out speech to the bouncer about how my friend wouldn't like to bring in his birthday standing in line (why do New Yorkers say 'on' line? Isn't that the internet?) that did it. Once again it was men in suits and pretty JAPpy (thats Jewish American Princess) girls all around partying like it was 1999. Boy do these folks know how to herald in the summer!
Sure it's fun to be in on the action and take in the glory that is Manhattan night life, but the 'scene' is tiring in more than ways than one. I'd take a walk on the beach over that anyday.
Which is precisely where I'm headed ...so see you next week!

Scary Subway. Continued.

Reader's comment to yesterday's post: "I was five minutes away from the WTC on 9/11 and witnessed a lot of the events first hand .. very scary and disturbing to think that another attempt was made to destroy life in 2003, and i didnt even know about it till now... "

That's the thing that really bugs me. Why are we hearing about this just now? Because Suskind is trying to get some PR buzz around his book? Well ok maybe I should be nice to him because at least he is telling us this as opposed to uhmmm... lets say the Government perhaps? I mean New York officials knew about a planned subway attack and didn't feel like alerting subway riders? So what if the plan flopped? Don't we have a right to know? God forbid we stop riding the subway and start walking to work.
I just don't get it. All these years we've been doing this dance with terror alert colors, one day yellow, another green, don't go on bridges, stay away from tall buildings on July 4th... but how is it that we weren't told about this? HydrogenCyanide in paint-can like devices in 10 subway cars is news-worthy surely? Who gets to decide what to tell the public anyway?

The other part of the comment I wanted to respond to...do you know what they are now saying as to why the subway attack was called off at the last minute? Because it was apparently not scary enough compared to 9/11. It wasn't going to contribute to an upward flow of instilling fear in people. No I'm serious. They were afraid it was going to look like an opening act after the main band had played. Appetizers after entrees.
The terrifying part in all of this that no one is talking about as much is that the actual members of the opening act or the dudes serving the appetizers are still floating around somewhere. Their chief may have called off the attack but as of today we don't even know where they are or who they are.
Time magazine's website has some excellent coverage on this whole topic including a live Q&A with writer Ron Suskind whose book has opened our eyes to this new information. As alarming and disturbing as it all is, it's extremely vital for us New Yorker's to know. The more we know, the smarter we can be. There is only so much a subway poster that reads "If you see something. Say something" can accomplish.

Scary Subway.

In case you haven’t seen it already, I wanted to draw your attention to the article in Time magazine that everyone is talking about today and which is an excerpt from the book 'The One Percent Doctrine: Deep Inside America's Pursuit of Its Enemies Since 9/11.'
http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,1205321,00.html

This new book by Ron Suskind has revealed a foiled Subway terrorist attack in 2003. The Time excerpt is fascinating and chilling –I could literally feel my heart pounding faster as I read it and I can’t wait to get my hands on the book…but the news is grim as this type of news always is. In case you don’t have the chance to read the article, the gist of it in 3 sentences is:
---A chemical dilemma has been solved-the bad guys have figured out how to mix hydrogen and cyanide into a gas form that has a faint odor like bitter almonds and when inhaled is lethal.
---‘Mubtakkar’ which means invention in Arabic, is the delivery system for Hydrogen Cyanide. The deadly device is small and portable, easily fitting into a small backpack and be triggered with a cell phone.
---An attempt to take Mubtakkars into the New York subway system in 2003 (into 10 subway cars at rush hour) was stopped in its tracks by a top Al-Qaeda leader. This leader is then killed and a deadly mystery remains unsolved and buried in a complex spiderweb of politics and power.

I wish I could say this was a Bollywood movie plot and it certainly sounds like one. But sadly it isn’t. For millions of subway riders like me who can’t even hear the conductor announcements about what the next station is (is the R or W train suddenly going express?) and the cause of subway delays (stand on the E train platform and tell me you can hear any of the station master’s announcements over the din of the A and C train whizzing by above) and who spend a good part of every single day down there in the dismal public transport system that is New York City’s beloved subway, stories like this don’t make for a fun morning commute.

This blogger don't do summer weekends.

It's official people. I have not two readers but 6!
I had four people email me today saying "I am your third reader."
How darling!
So for my six readers, please note that as long as it's summer I'm not going to be posting on weekends and I really hope you're not going to be reading this on weekends either. Or anywhere near your computer for that matter. (This only applies to us in the non-Tropical continent.)

Have a wonderful weekend and I'll be seeing you on Monday!

Respect to the D-List

For my two loyal readers-I'm posting this just after midnight because it's technically tomorrow and since tomorrow is going to be a really crazy day for me and I didn't want to let you two down...

I watch a lot of crappy TV sometimes. I know we all agree this is extremely therapeutic after a hard day's work and therefore completely justified. There's only so much intellectual stimulation one can handle in a 24-hour period.
So I just finished watching Kathy Griffin's 'My Life on the D-List' on Bravo and I have to say this is the second or third time I've watched this show and frankly its freakin' hilarious! Kathy is out of control-she makes you cringe with embarassment at the things she does and she's so ridiculously honest and funny it's truly addictive.
She actually auctioned herself on eBay a few shows ago and it turned out that her winning bid at $28K fell through and they had to go down this long list of runner-up bids until the 40th bidder accepted and won. Yikes! The winner was this random dude from Cleveland who spent $5K to spend the weekend with Kathy...anyway the whole thing was a riot but she has this amazing ability to turn any situation, even a super-awkward one into a LOL moment.
One always assumes celebrities have it good and it's so easy to imagine that they all live the same fab celeb lives no matter who they are. As long as we see them pose on TV and in the tabloids they have it good right? But watching this show, you get a real sense that all is not fair in love and Hollywood and that life on the D-list can really suck. Of course, Kathy is one sassy D-lister who can laugh it off and no doubt is the brains behind monetizing her struggling celeb life with this show. But it makes you think of all the other D-listers ...imagine always having to live in the shadows of shallow celebrities like Paris and Nicole when you have so much more to offer (assuming you do of course). On the last show I watched, Kathy was invited to some event and exactly 11 people turned up - out of which 7 of them were the organizers! Not fun.
It really takes so much more than we give credit for to put yourself out there in a position where you are so vulnerable to rejection. I've always admired people who can laugh at themselves and Kathy does it brilliantly.
Normally I don't care about this stuff and I know she will never be on the A-list -she's far too real and approachable for that and I don't think she's even trying to be there, but I really do hope this show gives Kathy Griffin the respect and recognition she deserves as a talented comedian and women. Even more so, I hope, as in my case, it gets people thinking about what goes on behind the scenes and what it takes to get there. It certainly takes the respect up a notch.

Shopaholics Unite.

I was wrong. I am not a shopaholic. Going by the event I witnessed from 6p.m to 10p.m yesterday, I am faaaar from a shopaholic. My love for shopping is purely emotional and very mildly physical (physical meaning the action of extending your hand into your wallet). Husband please take note.
Picture this scene-more than 40 fabulous designers selling clothes, shoes, bags and jewellery, hundreds of gorgeous New York women (this is THE place to find them all in under one roof), a few random guys (bullied boyfriends, desperados, wannabies and token pretty gay boyfriends) an open bar, a massuese, makeup artists, hairstylists and manicurists - sheer fabulousness all around!
The Gen Art Shop NYC event was truly a force to be reckoned with. The atmosphere was electric, buzzing with the enthusiasm and anticipation of scoring a designer bargain, finding that perfect dress or buying yet another pair of croc wedge heels.
From the moment I entered the Puck building, I was in my happy place, filled with a wild energy and a warm, fuzzy feeling all that the same time. Sigh. Such is the life of the emotional shopaholic. The crowds were maddening - women buying designer items like candy, dresses and tops flying everywhere in the chaotic discount store-like changing rooms. The check out lines were tiresome and no I did not make it to the masseuse chair, the makeup artist or the manicurist (which I never really expected to anyway.) But I did get a free drink (or two), some shampoo samples (who doesn't love those things?) and a few precious designer "souvenirs" to take home. I have very few complaints and absolutely no regrets. A tug-of-war match over a silk kimono top would have been nice entertainment but there was none of that drama. None that I witnessed, anyway.
Ultimately I was in a place where I belonged...where any and all guilt associated with shopping was alleviated and everything was considered a great find and an even better deal (isn't a $350 python clutch purse suchhhh a fab deal?) A mecca for fashionistas everywhere.
Do you remember the time when Lucky magazine would feature stuff from the Gap and Old Navy and you could actually afford to go out and buy featured items and then they went completely high-end on us and you could barely find one thing below $100. I would always wonder who is reading this magazine and actually buying this stuff? Well I found them all under one roof last night.
It's NYC with the shopaholicism!

Shop NYC

I'm a shopaholic-no doubts about that one. I am soooo excited because tonite I'm going to 'Shop NYC' at the Puck building downtown. Shop NYC is organized by Gen Art- an extremely cool organization that organizes fashion, art and music events. Over 40 designers selling their wares at deep discounts plus the promise of being pampered...ok ok we'll see about that one. Ever notice how you can never find the dude with the champagne and the makeup artists are always extreeeemely busy...?
Watch out for a detailed post-mortem of this event!

Bad Salad.

Is there anyone out there who doesn’t like salad? If so, please call me. We need to meet. We need to have lunch together and get to know each other. We must be friends. BFF even.
It’s not that I dislike salad, but when did it become totally acceptable for salad to be a whole meal by itself? Rather, when did it become totally unacceptable to eat anything else for lunch, especially at social and corporate settings? I mean I want my steak and fries damn it or my steak and cheese damn it (this is on carb watch days). Who are these women setting the precedent of ordering salad at lunch? You can be seen wearing last season’s Prada but order anything other than salad…forget it!
Salad is not and should not be a meal of its own. We’re talking about leaves here for crying out loud. Ok so you can stick in some protein, bacon bits even, take all the crumbly cheese in the south of France and lather on dressing till you’re swimming in the stuff, but we’re still looking at leaves. Just leaves. And some leaves are worse than others. Take the lame lettuce for example…70% water. Now tell me if I wanted water, I would just drink it from a bottle wouldn’t I? Why go through all the pain of chewing leaves for water?
Anyway you just can’t make a whole meal based on leaves. It won’t take you anywhere. Who gets full on salad? Ok there’s a temporary fullness that anyone chewing leaves for water will certainly experience, but then what?
This is clearly a cultural issue.
The truth is that I spent my childhood between two (other) food obsessed nations, England and India. These countries take lunch seriously. Lunch is a hot, wholesome meal to get you through the day. In India, salad equals raw sliced onions sprinkled with red chili powder and salt then squeeze on some lime and throw in a handful of raw green chilies for good measure and you’re all set. This ‘salad’ is a side dish, a mere accompaniment to the fragrant, hot meal. I’m talking steaming rice, aromatic curries, hot spicy lentils and delicious cumin-flavored fresh vegetables. Ask an Indian vegetable vendor for Romaine and see what happens. He’ll tell you ‘no madam this is India not Rome madam’ - that’s what. We only have one type of lettuce in India-and it’s called ‘salaaaad leaves’ (Yes leaves. My point exactly.) And it’s used mostly for decorative purposes or to line a burger or sandwich.
England for me was even worse, probably because it was mostly those fabulous school lunches I ate day after day - mash, mushy peas, bangers and more mash. Super healthy stuff we’re talking here. It’s no wonder there’s always such a ruckus over school meal choices these days. What you eat at that age seriously impacts the food choices you make later on in life.
Mine clearly does not include the leafy stuff. It’s sad really but now that summer is finally here (Thank you Weather Gods) I’m going to try and make peace with the whole salad situation one triple-washed baby spinach leaf at a time. Wish me luck.

Parle-G is not a cookie. It is a biscuit.

I’m sitting here at my desk. The dream job: working at a high profile ad agency in a high profile city and what am I doing? I’m eating Parle-G biscuits dipped in Brooke Bond Taj Mahal chai (not chai tea people just chai. Thank you.) This is my little piece of home at work. This is my connection to home every day, day after day. Each crumb of my exquisite glucose biscuit brings back a wonderful memory. The Pune monsoons, the piping hot chai at the Pune University circle on the way to lazy drives to NDA, sunny early mornings at school and college. That was the life. What is it about Parle G I love so much? First of all can I just state up front that at 6 packs for a $1 it’s a pretty damn good deal! This my friends is THE biscuit of choice in India for the common and not-so-common man. The calorie count isn’t too bad either. I was forced to check this out when I found myself going through the entire pack in one sitting. This has become more the norm by the way but at 450 calories a pack its way less than your average treat at Starbucks-yes even the reduced fat blueberry coffee cake.
But my love is far more emotional than all that.
The feeling you get when you dip a Parle G biscuit into a steaming hot cup of good Indian chai (except when it melts into the chai-you have to get your timing right here.) Aaaaah. That’s when you know its going to be okay.
You know what’s really upsetting me though? There’s suddenly this new packaging-it’s a plastic wrapper-yikes! Whatever happened to that lovely waxy paper wrapper that was so inherent to the whole Parle G experience? They kept the same cute kid on the plastic wrapper but it just feels so wrong. The kid looks less cute on shiny plastic…matte was far more flattering on her, poor dear. They’ve even added some captions on the wrapper like ‘world’s largest selling biscuit’ and ‘Power supply’. Now listen. I work in advertising and I know I’m probably not the target audience here (you don’t think ‘Urban city chick with India withdrawal symptoms’ age 18-49 is a key target segment?) but I want to know who is indeed their target and if they’re really loving this new packaging. Does the fact that it’s the world’s largest selling biscuit even matter to them? To anyone?
I decided to do a search on Parle G and found a pretty decent brand website. The site tells us “Parle-G is consumed by people of all ages, from the rich to the poor, living in cities & in villages. While some have it for breakfast, for others it is a complete wholesome meal. For some it's the best accompaniment for chai, while for some it's a way of getting charged whenever they are low on energy. Because of this, Parle-G is the world's largest selling brand of biscuits.” Huh. So I guess I am in the target audience…the whole world is!
This biscuit has been around since 1939 and used to go by the name Parle Gluco. It got shortened. Kind of like P Diddy from Puff Daddy. Ok whatever. Bad analogy.
The old packaging is adorable and very Amul-like (another of India’s classic brands) with cows and a cow maid.
The website went on to explain the new packaging, big news that it is (not being sarcastic)
“Originally packed in the wax paper pack, today it is available in a contemporary, premium BOPP pack with attractive side fins. The new airtight pack helps to keep the biscuits fresh and tastier for a longer period.”
We don’t want premium BOPP pack - whatever that means. Give me my wax paper back dammit! Listen first of all-what the heck are “attractive side fins?” Are we talking about fish or biscuits here? Secondly, we don’t need the biscuits fresh and tastier for a longer period-we eat them in one sitting. Helloooooo. Two sittings at the most on good days. Am I alone here? Can we have some focus groups please?
I needed to get to the bottom of the new packaging…there had to be something more to it. Several searches later I started to discover the several ‘stomach-churning’ incidents that had occurred involving bugs and the like (sorry I refuse to go into detail—far too loyal) which I’m assuming prompted the move to plastic and therefore far more impenetrable wrapper.
Ok Ok I rest my case. Hygiene conquers all. At the end of the day I’d opt for my bug-free biscuit over a matte looking chubby brand icon kid any day
It’s just packaging after all.
All I’m trying to say here is that everything changes and there are such few things in life you can look at and say “you know that will never change”. Well my Parle G was one of those things. And it did change, at least on the outside. The inside is a different story. While the promise of flavored product extensions lurks near, I will make the most of this original wonder-biscuit.
(http://www.parleproducts.com/parle-g.html)

Fashion 'Oopsie' Janet Style

This might be super old news by now but I recently learnt that India’s hot and sexy Fashion week turned out to be a little hotter and sexier than planned. More than one gorgeous Indian model had a Janet Jackson moment on the ramp-one whose Halter top completely slipped off revealing her boobs in entirety and another whose skirt ripped revealing her entire naked backside. Imagine those guys who decided to skip out on this particular designer’s run…how they must be hating themselves!
On a more serious note however, modeling is bloody hard. I used to choreograph fashion shows once upon a time at a pretty amateur level (although one of the models I worked with did become Miss India!) and even at that level the stress and chaos we endured at each show was intense. Missing outfits, torn outfits, missing models, drunken models, stoned models, ego clashes, broken heels, messed up makeup, ruined makeup, backstage drama…I could go on and on. I mean wardrobe malfunction was pretty low on our list even when we didn’t have the fancy designers backing us and more often than not a top was basically a piece of cloth wrapped around a model’s breasts. Have you tried walking-no sorry cat walking, in 4 inch heels with barely any clothes on, on an elevated ramp with bright white lights shining down on the inch of makeup on your face, the pins stabbing your scalp, trying to look hot? Didn’t think so.
Unfortunately for India’s Fashion Week, the Indian government and media decided to make a big deal out of the whole incident, even accusing the show organizers to have planned the whole mishap to generate publicity. Judging by the looks on the models faces, I hardly believe that’s true. If you watch the video on youtube (yes it’s there) you can see how the model just pulls up her top and keeps on walking with her head held high. I’ve seen plenty European models scamper off the ramp like mice or giggle like a two year old when something like this happens. At least this one was professional about it!
The right wing politicians are inconsolably upset and using this as yet another reason to go on about how our country is losing morality, making remarks like "Such exploitation of a woman's body for commercial purposes is not acceptable to us."
Are you kidding me? Have you seen the sari blouses the hosts are wearing on Indian TV these days? And what about Bollywood? It’s like Spring Break! Why are they picking on Fashion Week-the one fabulous event that brings a bevy of amazingly talented Indian designers together for the world to see and admire?
Are the designers to blame for creating such skimpily precarious outfits? The editor of a leading national paper actually accused the halter-top designer of creating shoddy clothes resulting in the faux-pas. Hello. When you have all of two minutes to change between sequences and you are scrambling to make it on stage from backstage madness, in heels, prepping to come off as fabulous, calm and sexy, there is a good chance you didn’t fasten your halter top properly. As for the skirt ripping in the ass…I betcha that model just had a cupcake too many the previous night. Come on people. Give these women a break. A little boobage never hurt anyone. The media broadcasting the ‘incident’ 16 times a minute and the public shamelessly exchanging video clips via cell phone just adds insult to injury. Masala on the wounds I say.
No one wants an ‘ooopsie’ moment in public. God knows we’ve all had our own. Anyone walked over a Manhattan Subway grate with a skirt on? Trust me. There's a Janet moment in everyone's future.

The Disneyfication of The World

The FDA approved the HPV Vaccine yesterday. Please read my posting from June 7th.

I read an article yesterday in the New York Times titled ‘The Disney Touch at a Hindu Temple.’ (http://travel2.nytimes.com/2006/06/08/travel/08letter.html?ex=1307419200&en=45c30f275cb73996&ei=5089&partner=rssyahoo&emc=rss)
Mildly offended and very intrigued I read on to discover that a new temple has opened in Delhi complete with boat rides, musical fountains, movie screens and more and that the religious organization (Bochasanwasi Shri Akshar Purushottam Swaminarayan Sanstha a.k.a. BAPS) that built this temple proudly stated that they did indeed get their inspiration from Disney World and even visited the park several times as part of their research. Now as a temple-loving Hindu, I will admit that yes there are too many temples in India and so I understand the need to differentiate oneself, providing unique benefits and features to attract your target audience-this is Marketing 101. But at some point I think we need to draw a line.
I’ve been to a BAPS temple in London. Despite visiting at a busy time of the day and week, the whole experience was beautiful and peaceful. London, however, doesn’t have the same temple overload problem as India so they can get away with building a ‘basic’ temple there. But do we really want Disney World meets Hinduism as our main draw? One might argue that animatronics a la ‘It’s a Small World’ ride is a great way to engage the younger generation and teach them about religion but when people come to the temple as if it were an amusement park rather than a temple then isn’t the sanctity lost forever?
I’ve been to many a temple in India and my favorite have been the small, local neighborhood temples where the focus is on creating a quiet yet cheery environment allowing you to channelize your thoughts and energies towards a higher power. No overpowering carvings and sculptures, no magical musical fountains, just the basics. I’ve also been to the fancier temples and frankly I just can’t understand why I would stand in line for hours only for 12 seconds of happiness. In those 12 seconds you are being jostled, harassed to donate money all the while trying to be blessed. I once had a priest snatch money from my hands while I was trying to pray ...not fun. Some might argue it’s just like the Disney experience where hours of standing in line culminate in a few seconds of pure thrill.
As the writer of the Times article pointed out, the crowds that visits these temples are ‘multigenerational middle-class Indian families’ always in search of a good (and free) time. And yes even in ancient times temples have been social places of gathering but surely BAPS could have found some other way to attract these folks rather than go down the Disney World path. The little mouse that sits at Lord Ganesha’s feet is very different from our good friend Mickey.

Weird Title Dude.

I feel like I need to explain my blog title choice before I get too far ahead in this blog game. After all we all know that we do judge books by their covers and no one opens emails where the subject line is ‘Ephedra is back. Get it while you can.’ So to provide some context here ‘Nothing About Much’ is in fact a legacy thing. About nine years ago (gosh I feel old) I used to write for a ‘youth’ magazine in Mumbai called JAM (check out http://www.jammag.com/index.php) and in the spirit of single syllable, three-letter acronyms I decided to name my column 'Nothing About Much' –NAM, which is also part of my name. Honestly.
Boy did I need a writing mentor back then.
In any case, ‘Nothing About Much’ was a decent effort at the time and ran for a solid two years. I wrote passionately and highly opinionatedly. In fact, when I look at my writing now, some of it makes me squirm. Let’s just say I developed a growing hate club of engineering students. More on that another time. So anyway, the nostalgic beast that I am, I decided to let the name live on and gave it a contemporary touch with the ‘From Mumbai to Manhattan’ part. Sounds so soap opera-esque no?
I’ll have to be honest -- I’m not from Mumbai. I worked there one summer and my husband is from there. And while I work and breathe in Manhattan I moved out in search of a lower rent check two years ago. Home for me is Pune and Jersey City but ‘From Pune to Jersey City’ doesn’t quite have the same ring to it as ‘Mumbai to Manhattan’.
It’s ironic how close those cities are in both lands--Pune from Bombay and Jersey City from Manhattan and how one little mode of transport – Expressway and Hudson River respectively, changes everything for most people. But for me these places represent the same two worlds that are my life. My India and my America. And not to add to the confusion or anything but you will soon discover there’s also a ‘my Nigeria’ (born there) and ‘my England’ (grew up there). See why I needed to start a blog now? I have so much to talk about!

Please Tell Someone

There’s a new advertising campaign out called ‘Tell Someone’ which aims to spread awareness about HPV (Human PapillomaVirus) causing cervical cancer in women. My husband and I were sitting in bed one night watching TV when the ad came on --I had seen it before but it was his first time seeing it and of course he rolled his eyes as he does at most pharmaceutical advertising, most advertising actually. He loooves critiquing ads and is wonderfully expressive about it much to my amusement and entertainment. Anyway his eyeroll towards the HPV ad had me all in a frenzy (meaning I raised my head from the pillow and objected-hey it was almost one in the morning!) I pointed out that at least someone (yes it’s a lovely Pharma company looking to market the new HPV vaccine) is making an effort to spread awareness on this problem. See HPV is close to my heart…I have a friend who like most other Indian girls never had a pap smear in her life and when she came to the US and decided to finally visit the Obgyn as is standard here for a 21 year-old women, she discovered to her horror that she not only had HPV but that nasty little virus had wreaked havoc in her cervix turning cells pre-cancerous. Imagine finding that out at your first pap smear ever!
The scary part is had she not been in the US she would have never even got that pap and God knows what would have happened…it might have been too late. HPV is evil. Condoms don’t prevent it…nothing really does and an alarming number of people have it. The virus can be dormant and harmless in most people while in others the virus is a monster strain ready to cause trouble. But there is no way of knowing you have HPV unless you get a Pap smear or HPV test! Even men contract (dont you hate that word?) HPV by the way but it usually doesn’t do much harm at all -other than sometimes causing warts (ew) but worse than ew is the life threatening condition HPV causes in women. So ladies…please DO tell someone.
I want to tell someone to tell someone in India. I'm afraid of an impending cervical cancer epidemic there anytime between now and the next 10 years. My fear is all these sexually active kids in a country where cultural norms and stigmas mean that young girls aren’t looking after their sexual health. If you aren’t married you are presumed to be a virgin and why do virgins need to go to an Obgyn and get a pap smear test anyway? There’s your problem…lots of young women with HPV with no idea they even have it. Can someone please start an awareness campaign in India? I’m afraid we may be a while away from doing that. The sad truth is that even though over 20 million Americans have HPV an awareness campaign comes out only now because a company needs to sell something. Better late than never I say but India will have to wait. I hope this drug company takes the drug to our shores…unfortunately the cultural barriers will not go away and I can hardly see young women lining up to get a pap test. In the meanwhile if someone you know you think may be at risk, please tell them what you now know. Something must be done before its too late.