Actually, the hangover’s been gone a long time ago. What with a constant stream of visitors coming to pay their respects to my parents who are visiting me, reunions of friends one was in class with, et al, and of course, the tremendous amount of angst due to lack of tickets for the Herbie Hancock-Wayne Shorter concert in Mumbai on Jan 13, there’s been no time for hangovers.
What will the New Year bring, is the single most important question on everybody’s lips. Depending on the paper you read and the astrologer you follow, there are variations on a theme – but all seem solidly agreed that 2007 will be fantastic, fabulous, absolutely magnificent and supercalifragilisticexpialidocious and only more so. Great faith in the stars that our astrologers have.
I think its gonna be a pretty good year too, without much help from the stars, planets, feng shui, vastu, whatever. No logic – just faith. Woke up the last few mornings, without the blues of any sort – that’s a good feeling in the pit of your stomach. So there!
However, I have a few suggestions which, if followed, will make 2007 a really fantastic, fabulous and the supercaliwhatever year every body is desperate to make it out to be. So here is my “wish they came true” list. I have no idea how these things can be made to happen – but I am sure there are enough enterprising men and women out there who have drive, initiative and the go-getting spirit to make these come true.
So, in no particular order, here goes:
- Remove Eva Longoria from the pages of all newspapers in India. She must have the best PR company in the world. Not a day passes without her pic and some story about her gracing the pages of the papers I encounter in Mumbai. Yes, I knew she’s cute and sexy, and Tony Parker is a really good basketball player – but I am currently suffering from a surfeit of Eva Longoria. Given the amount of publicity she gets, I wouldn’t be surprised if Tony doesn’t end up feeling the same way: he’s practically a nonentity.
- Put Britney Spears on a course of religious instruction and hope she becomes a nun and vanishes from human consciousness
- Make Posh Spice go on a surprise diet so she bloats up to a comfortably permanent 145 pounds and has to shop for oversize dresses. That should be sufficient for her to vanish into Beckingham Palace and remain there far from the madding crowd
- Some American soccer team should offer a job to David Beckham so he can retire in Wyoming or Idaho and teach the local American football players how to bend a touchdown. [I believe that this particular wish coming true!! He’s been sacked from Real Madrid, and he’s soon on his way to California, earning as much or more than Kobe or Tim or any of the baseball or basketball stars.]. I’m going to miss him, though – he had an absolutely magical right foot, with hinges; his deadball stuff and from the right wing were just about the finest I have seen.
- A good doctor should treat Himesh Reshamiya so he gets he loses his nasal tone. This may be the only way to prevent him from inflicting more indignities in the name of pop songs on human ears.
- Isn’t it possible to sue George Bush and Tony Blair for genocide, premeditated murder, and other crimes against humanity? And arraign them side by side with Osama bin Laden, Dawood Ibrahim and other such types? Of course they deserve this – the question is how. If that can be done in 2007, it would make me really happy.
- I get to complete my second book and get a gullible publisher suckered into publishing it. Having got one out of the system, I have tasted blood; not a day passes without me getting the urge to launch another tome onto the unsuspecting public. So far I have restrained myself – but 2007 will see my next. For sure.
- I hope I get tickets for the Hancock-Shorter show day after tomorrow. Two of the greatest musicians who have ever graced our planet – and I may not be able to get to see them! The populace has risen in revolt for less – witness the French Revolution where the jacquerie rose just because the queen told them to eat cake instead of bread.
- I hope India gets out in the group stages or whatever in the cricket World Cup this year – at least early enough. I am sick of this mindless addiction to that ‘unprofitable parade of somnambulists’ (to use the immortal description of cricket by that pre-eminent cricket lover – P G Wodehouse). I am mindlessly addicted to that other sport where 22 men, breathing heavily, chase one innocent and harmless globule, eight inches in diameter, trying its best to escape attention.
- I get called a cool dude once more – by a suitably cool dudie. I thought I was getting there – the other day, a colleague of mine told me that his cousin (a female of some thirty summers) thinks that I am really the epitome of the tall, dark and handsome man of legend. I was pretty flattered – until I recalled that we had met only once, inside a car, at 9 in the evening, on a street where there were no lights, in the company of my colleague and his driver, and the only source of light was that from the car dashboard. On second thoughts, perhaps my colleague wants a raise.
(first posted on sulekha.com on Jan 12 2007)