The art of living and giving...

This past weekend in London was dominated by the warmth and hospitality of an illustrious family that has culled a place in the heart of British civilisation — the Pauls. On Friday night, the ‘young tusk’ scion of the Paul empire, Angad Paul, turned thirty. As the youngest son of Lord Swaraj Paul, Angad could have settled into the lap of life’s comfort and extravagance as a birthright. Instead, he has proved his mettle as a new age film producer, and is part of the epicentre of London’s night club scene both as an investor and a patron.

Angad’s thirtieth birthday bash was an unqualified, unmatched superb success in that it blended generous hospitality, baby doll glam girls, sashaying super models, Richie Rich playboys, true blue industrialists and voyeurs galore, all in one smash hit of a party that lasted all night long. Having come to the party with the dashing older ‘bro’ Akash Paul and glamorously sexy other half, the irrepressible Nisha, I was introduced to a dozen hunks and their seriously ‘Barbie’ girlfriends. But the mind boggled as it dealt with the ambience of Akash and Nisha’s new, yet soon to be rebuilt home set to ‘baraat’ flower drapery, pink faux fur ‘‘chill room’’ and most eye catching of all a camouflage leaf drapery on the ceiling that was gravity-defying yet chic.

The DJ’s perch over this authentic, army cover of autumn coloured leaves was pure inspiration as the music was an explosion of the best Club music London could have ever served up. Per square inch there was more glamour and wealth than all of LA and Mumbai put together. But everyone, everywhere seemed to be having the time of their lives, thanks in no small measure to the warmth of Angad himself, greeting each and everyone of his three hundred and more friends with a warm hug, and the oh-so watchful eyes of Akash and Nisha ensuring that the flow of hospitality and snacks was never ending.

By midnight the Prince Charmings and Princess Bountifuls from the homeland rolled in and a true amalgam of cultures, colour, race and by extension, new labour’s dream mix of upper class, uppercrust that rubbished the colour race bar of yore to bring the brightest and the best Indians in the land to a desired forefront, ringside seats in the house of Lords. Accolades and praise showered on the true blue, the first family of whom undoubtedly are the Pauls. Familiar faces that evening, celebrities aside, were friends like Saira, Matt Farheen, Andrew Carnegie, Matt, Rishi Sethia. Sethia was unfortunately a victim of a mugging incident just that evening — a Rolex raid where he was accosted by four Blacks who took his watch and left him shaken.

But being the man of charm and courage that he is, he was there to wish Angad. I noticed Ajay Piramal, the Ruia brothers, Bobby Saigal all partake of the festivities. After we left, close friend Talvin Singh, the king of fusion souped up an evening that was already way up there amongst the stars by DJing for an hour into dawn which got the crowd past the sound barrier to Mach Three. Within Lord Paul’s abiding faith in his nation of domicile, the UK, is dovetailed a home spun success saga that bears testimony to the laurels of a lifetime of hard work and dedication. Within the ambit of his savvy, razor sharp business acumen lies the mellow expansiveness of a man of simple habits with lofty ideals.

In his three sons he has instilled a deep sense of honour and tradition, allowing each an identity that sets them apart, yet binds them in a strong familiar tie of ‘all for one and one for all’. On the Sunday, the London zoo was the focus of a plethora of guests which included politicos, the gentry, the desi, and the moms and dads accompanying their offspring on a day out at the special enclosure dedicated to Ambika, the little daughter of Lord and Lady Paul’s, robbed of her precious young life by the dreaded leukemia.

The invitation had a black and white sepia photo of little Ambika and in the deep pool of her doe eyes, the little angel face brought a swell of emotion as Ambika seemed so vital, so alive and indeed with the special enclosure at her favourite haunt, the zoo, she is immortalised. Again we availed of the unending hospitality of Lord and Lady Paul and witnessed first hand the respect and love they command. I was thrilled when a voice from my distant past, a junior from Lawrence School as it turned out, yelled ‘Gopika’ and upon reaching us paid me the compliment of a lifetime by asking if indeed I was Gopika as I hadn’t changed since I was in school.

Puppy fat cute in school and matronly good looks now are poles apart but it tickled my pride and gave me an ego message of proportions that had me strutting to a beat, that was ‘You sexy thing, ‘Rock me baby’ and ‘I did survive’ at the same time.

Cutting back to the party H.H. and Surina Narula, Ramola Bachchan, Mala and Anuj, Mr Noon, Keith Vaz were some of the friends I managed a short exchange of conversation with before Shiv my younger son had his face painted to look like a tiger, though cat was a more appropriate end result. As I left, I marvelled at the strength and talent of the Pauls and felt a swell of pride to be counted amongst their friends. Their success echoes the prosperity that every NRI hopes for, but in their basic one to one we are the world, togetherness ... the reality of life be generous and giving and it will be blessed manifold.

Mumbai Blues

Back in Mumbai, the relentless assault on the paid quotient at a loved one’s illness, the monsoon petering new fury, and Rajan’s fifth death anniversary all made for a slide into dereliction and pain. Sanjeev Chaudhary my close friend picking up the nine-flag typhoon distress signals, hosted a fine dinner at Frangipani on Saturday. Close friends and family made up the private room table, Sanjeev, Bharat, Kishen Mulchandani, Sonia Garware, my brother Bobby Nair, his wife Varsha, Krish, Nitin, Urmila and I closed ranks as only friends can and had a wonderful carefree evening.

The ambience, service food was superlative. We meandered on to Indigo, just to keep the spirit of togetherness going and it proved to be the panacea for all ills. When Sanjeev leaves us mid August, it will not just be the rain clouds that weep, he is going to be missed by many and to the inner circle he calls friends, we have our ‘brave heart’ masks out but deep inside of me I know that I will sorely miss one of the best friends I ever had, and learning to cope will be a hard uphill task. Sanjeev returns home to Canada after a three-year stint in Mumbai as a diplomat. We wish him the very best always, he deserves it.