And Not a Drop to Drink

Graphic scenes of a parched, sundried land turning hostile on her own people have been as inescapable as the dead heat of summer. There is a sad pathos to watching women and children trudging miles for water, which, ironically enough, may have been their birthright had perhaps the Narmada Dam been built all those years ago. Again one ponders the reams of media space given to the Medha Patkars and Arundhati Roys for having stopped the dam and its relocation plan, when now village after village in the path of that very dam dies a slow and painful death. That last year’s South Westerly monsoon failed us should have been the handwriting on the wall for this year’s severe drought and calamitous famine that is to follow. Appaled as one is by the inertia of just about everyone in tackling this situation, I feel a deep sense of helplessness, as how does a concerned citizen even begin to grapple with a drought? In the sheer magnitude of the number of villages affected only crisis management by the powers that be can save the situation. In the light of this unfolding human drama, a social inertia seemed to be order of the day.

Coastal fare has always been a passion with me. Ashok Shetty (brother-in-law to close friend, the gorgeous singing sensation, Shweta Shetty) opened an eatery devoted to seafood called the Bay of Bombay. On Thursday night, Ritu and Ajatshatru Singh were in Mumbai on an impromptu visit, so we went to Ashok’s restaurant for dinner. We ate clams, crabs and prawns and when Ritu splashed her ice blue sari twice with curry, despite the precautionary apron, we knew we were having a whale of a time, eating, drinking and laughing. The restaurant deserves special mention not just for the tasty sea food but the correct ambience in a ‘Ship Ahoy’ sense of nautical.

Another eatery that I breezed into with my young son Shiv last week was the Italian restaurant Biscotti, at Crossroads. We had a wonderful Italian meal and then went up to the video parlour for a half hour of ear-jamming, joy-stick-controlled entertainment. I so enjoy this mall and all its enterprising outlets. It is indeed a pleasure to have a world class mall in the heart of Mumbai.

If I regretted my inability to make a celebration this past couple of weeks it must have been to the wedding of A D Singh, the dapper owner of the bowling co to the beautiful Sabina in Goa. I was pleased though to have made it to Kishen Mulchandani’s private party at Palkhi, pre-wedding. It was a small intimate group of friends that made up this private evening, a few weeks back, but fun was had by all. I wish A D and Sabina marital bliss and hope the temporary closing of the bowling co is just a minor blip and that now that they have each other to lean on as life partners, life and all its problem’s seem minor. I fervently hope the bowling coey reopens soon seeing as it was not part of the faulty block that lead to the tragic death of five workers. But again unless adequate precautions are taken to protect the lives of one and all we could seem uncaring in hastily re-opening the not-so-safe areas of the Phoenix Mills. In retrospect, since the beam of world media focussed on India during President Clinton’s visit our nation has witnessed an unprecedented number of calamities. The stock market crash, the drought, a Kargil revisited syndrome building up in the North, the treacherous situation building up in Sri Lanka, and the ignominious fall of our nation’s heroes — the cricketer — has me pondering. Desh ko nazar to nahi lag gaya?