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This appeared on GQIndia.com today
Guy trips to Las Vegas are legendary. From Fear and Loathing… to The Hangover, no one expects a trip to sin city to be ordinary. But getting the mix right and hitting the best spots before the bright lights and spinning wheels clean you out of money and good sense is easier said than done though. So here are GQ's tips for a Vegas adventure you’ll remember for the right reasons .
Casino and hotel: Aria Don’t bother packing your pajamas because you’re not going to sleep a wink. Aria, the latest addition to the glamorous strip, is a visual treat. It is surrounded by upscale stores that feature the world's most elite brands like Dior, Hermes and Fendi. In addition to the 4000 plus guest rooms, it has some 500 suites with an exhilarating casino floor. The high rollers have access to the swankiest private space where nothing is off limits. When you want to catch a breather from all the gambling, you can head on over to one of the 16 restaurants by celebrity chefs like Michael Mina or hang out by one of the 10 bars.
Nightclub: XS at Encore Vegas is a clubber's market and quite a saturated one at that. XS at Encore is amongst the few new additions worthy of a taste. It’s popular in the celebrity circuit so men have to pay a good cover charge and wait in long lines. But can you really put a price to partying aside Paris Hilton and Kim Kardashian? Dress to impress if you want in and just don't rule out bribing the bouncer (You didn't hear that from us). The drinks sure are expensive but how many clubs do you know with a pool area and day beds?
Pool party: Rehab at Hard Rock Hotel and Casino Rehab is a massive all-day pool party, one of the wildest you’ll find in sin city. But women in skimpy bikinis aren’t the only incentive to visit this place. If ever there was a land of plenty, Rehab would have to be it. With alcohol galore, renowned DJs, relaxing cabanas, slides and sexy vibes – it's a brilliant playground for adults. Rehab only opens every Sunday from 11 am to 8 pm and unless you're with a group of super hot babes or a hotel guest, access may not be easy. But making reservations for one of the cabanas by the pool will guarantee you a piece of the action. Be prepared though because you might need a day of rehab after Rehab.
Show: Le Rêve at Wynn This 75-minute show takes place at the gorgeous aqua theatre inside Wynn. 'Le Rêve' literally means 'The Dream' in French and the show is a collection of stunning dream sequences. It’s incredibly imaginative and shows off some pretty crazy stunts in a backdrop of rain, fire and dancing lights. Just don't get a seat in the first row unless you love getting splashed on.
Exhibit: Ferrari display at Wynn When you’ve had enough of the boozing, gambling and pretty women, head on over to the Penske Wynn Ferrari display. This part-car dealership, part-exhibit features some of the most exotic automobiles ever built. Our personal favourite is Wynn's own Enzo Ferrari that’s worth over $1.6 million. Hands off though because this beauty isn’t for sale.
Restaurant: Mix at Mandalay Bay Located on the 64th floor of Mandalay Bay, the setting at Mix is just as much an experience as the cuisine. Thousands of glass spheres hanging from the ceiling and an all-white room set the stage for elegant dining. Add a spectacular view and futuristic "pods", capsule-type booths, and you've got an intimate dining experience to woo the ladies. It's one of the most romantic restaurants you'll find anywhere. The trick is to remember to eat.
Here is a link to the article on GQIndia.com http://www.gqindia.com/content/six-places-visit-vegas
This appeared on gqindia.com today
During my short period of fascination with LA tabloids, I was introduced to stalking stories which intrigued me to an embarrassing extent. It’s a phenomenon I attribute entirely to then President, George W. Bush. His bloopers, his cartoons and his public speeches loaded with ‘Bushisms’ lost fizz after a while pushing me away from conventional media into the world of yellow journalism. Restraining orders being issued to stalkers against celebs are often splashed all across tabloids. It gives me the comfort that all's well with the world.
It's not unusual for crazies to drive around the distinguished 90210 zip code and try to jump over the sky high fences to peek at their favorite celeb or hang from fragile branches to get shots of Jennifer Anniston sunbathing topless in the privacy of her backyard. Not so private after all is it. Then there would be the occasional dimwit peeing at a celebrity doorstep and getting arrested because he'd forgotten all about security cameras. Britney Spears, I concur just from the myriad stories, must be the queen of stalker land. In fact I’m willing to bet good money that stalkers-in-the-making practice with a full blown cardboard cut out of hers. They must hate her at the LA Superior Court given the work load she adds by getting countless restraining orders issued.
Come 2010 and everyone can have the esteemed privilege of having a stalker. All one has to do is activate 'Facebook places' or 'Twitter locations' or get an app like Foursquare and you're on your way to giving Britney a run for her money. With these apps, you can tell friends your location and track where you have been in real time. The 'check-in' points you earn and the lure of becoming a 'mayor' while earning discounts is sure appealing and if you aren’t a female supermodel, why fret right?
Here’s the catch. Everyone Google-searches themselves when they’re bored. It’s no surprise that the public information available about you is often frightening. If you live in the US, it’s too late to undo any damage. UK has more stringent privacy laws but it still be a significant bit. India will be there in a few years as Nilekani’s Unique Identification Card project picks up speed. As the technology world moves towards a single integrated identity across social networking platforms, combining information across your accounts and profiles, they also end up making you more vulnerable each step of the way.
As with everything else, common sense and knowledge about options and settings on these apps will save you from becoming a target. But if you're building a fan club, it's all yours to play with. Next time you make a killer presentation at work or conclude a crowd-maddening speech at the college social or win a polo match and feel like a superstar, go on a Foursquare usage spree and wait for the stalkers to roll in. Of course, a cool profile pic will help too. Enjoy the limelight.
I might have chanced upon the ultimate romantic hotspot by the bay. It ain’t an exotic restaurant or a sizzling nightclub or an island in the pacific but a majestic castle on a vineyard tucked away in Napa Valley that’s eminent for producing some of the world’s finest wines. It’s not called the seductive land that is both cosmopolitan and quaint for nothing.
As I drove past several dozen gorgeous wineries a few weeks back that savor the bounty of this vinous enclave, I hit upon metal studded enormous gates of this castle that seemed to beckon me. Castello di Amorosa. The name alone has a magical ring to it and the place has the power to transport you in a blink into the Tuscany landscapes and regardless of the company, make you fall in love. You may not buy this but in the unbearably bright sun, I even saw a rainbow. Told ya, love.
Over five unique and evocative red wine tastings accompanied by some seriously delectable breadsticks and tinted cheese that looked like art, I learnt an awful lot about wines from my very chatty server. The winery primarily produced Italian style wines. All the juicy red grapes which can pass for blueberries, albeit longer, are grown in the valley around the Castle. Vineyards are typically on hillsides since hillside quality is usually far superior to valley floor grapes. Oh and those grapes are all hand-farmed. If you happen to ask them how they set themselves apart from others, you might hear “with delicious, classically structured, intensely flavored, well-balanced and elegant wines”. Who knew they were all adjectives for expensive drinks. Swirl, sniff, sip, repeat.
Winery tours are a must do but not the kinds that chauffer you around in a stretch limo serving sparkling liquids inside. Those are no fun. I mean the real deal where you get down and dirty. The ones where you can follow the course of the grape from the vineyard through the cellar to the finished product and learn about the many aromas and the basic components of a balanced wine. As a bonus, you might just spot a few owls and hawks who ‘work’ in official capacity as predators so your wine doesn’t smell of rodent poisons.
Now only if I got to attend a fashion show or a live auction full of ridiculous treasures or some equally outlandish event in this marvelous setting wearing a designer hat, it’d be amazing. Or perhaps I’ll get to photograph an over the top Indian destination wedding at this locale. Imagine the grandeur of jellewery and exquisite costumes against the backdrop of a royal castle and home grown wines to go with every dish. I may finally learn what wines compliment Indian cuisine. Dionysus, are you listening? Wait, is Bacchus the god of wine? I forget.
I bet you knew that drinking wine does give you superpowers; the superpowers to live healthier and longer. Cheers. 
This appeared on gqindia.com yesterday.
Using shorter versions of ones name is cool but it’s no fun when one has to resort to coffee aliases (using Americanized version of one’s name at coffee shops) just because the server doesn’t have time for you to explain to her why your parents/relatives/neighbors chose an extraordinarily long and complex name for you and how you had no say in it.
It’s almost been a decade since I moved to US and I've noticed the gradual shift in the qualities often associated with immigrated Indians. Back in the day they were the same set of boring questions. It was all about the irreplaceable nerdy image ("Ours doctors and engineers have a multitude of skills. We don't need a third profession."), the explicit red dot on the forehead ("It is for the little boys to practice archery"), curried spicy food that could kill ("If our armed forces are overworked, then that is how we destroy our enemies"), the HQ of arranged marriages ("Try it. My aunt can set you up.") and our supernatural skill of making snakes dance (I'd vary my answer on this one).Fast forward a few years and Shilpa Shetty's yoga DVDs have replaced those of Baba Ramdev’s on Amazon's yoga section, Frieda Pinto's sizzling sex appeal has replaced Tabu's docile image on movie screens in the US, Anita Nair's memoir about dating has replaced Arundhati Roy's prismatic literature on book shelves across the nation and Anil Kapoor's cameo on ‘24’ has replaced the typical Indian-doc-with-funny-accent on most shows.
It's not just media that is projecting these new improved versions. We’ve ourselves undergone bit of a transformation. Luxury cars have replaced our loyalty towards Hondas and Toyotas. Co-workers no longer shy away from inviting us to go bungee jumping or jet skiing since we’ve finally evolved past playing cricket in neighborhood parks. We don't just order diet coke without ice at restaurants anymore and resist the temptation to cover 15 countries on a first time trip to Europe in 15 days.
A few things will never change though. Like our nerds will never cease to be nerds. And I say that lovingly. The technology world needs them. Like our men's undying love for white tennis shoes for every occasion. Slick blazer, gap jeans, hot babe and white tennis shoes. Is it a sacred thing? I don't get it. Like our kids averaging 5 rides an hour at Disneyland when others can only average about 2. Eating from home packed lunch boxes sure beats standing in hour long pizza lines. We’ve morphed all we could. The rest, the world will just have to deal with.
This appeared in The SA Times today.The Indian publishing industry is undergoing what I underwent a decade back. Too many changes, too soon. Such arbitrary changes that if they plotted a graph for every trend that has occurred in the recent past, they run the risk of being more confused than they might have been prior to plotting the graph.
First off, the concept of monopoly is passé. The space has opened up in a big way inviting major international publishing houses to get their fingers wet. So professionalism is in high gear and modern outlook, a must. Enter lit agents. It’s not a job title you might have heard of forever but now you can bump into them at a cocktail party for a book launch of a newbie (read not even old enough to drive) author and they’ll tell you they’ve helped bridge the gap between writers and publishers.
Commercial books (those that can unite a billion people with simple language and a touching story) is a big business now compared to literary and self help books back in the day. No points for guessing that whatever genre you’ve admired in international titles is home grown today. Crime, sci-fi fantasy, romance, graphic novels, children’s books… name it and we’ve been farming it. Just look around the fancy bookstores sprawled across every city, big and small. Until Chetan Bhagat came along, a book that sold 5,000 copies in India would be classified as a bestseller. Today, the numbers have risen steeply from that level in the ball park of 50,000. The next Vikram Seth or Amitav Ghosh book is just around the corner. Literally.
When an industry undergoes an explosion, a sub-industry comes into action too a la iPod style. If you like to be in the know of the newest statistics that hit the stands, here’s one. For every hardcover book that sells in the US, close to 2 e-books sell. It’s a significant ratio considering how young the e-book market is. I haven’t helped the ratio in favor or e-book btw. Still a hard copy kinda girl. Call me cliché but I love the feeling of holding something that I can spill coffee all over. Plus my blackberry does more than I need. I’d rather not own another device and have them fight in my handbag for space and attention.
A Bangalore based company just introduced a new e-book reader for the Indian readers under a brand name Wink. It stands at Rs. 11,500 and one can not only read books in 15 Indian languages but it also offers over 200,000 book titles on debut. 200,000! Impressive. It also offers access to journals, newspapers, magazines and selected articles.
The funny part is that Pi, the country's first e-book reader, was already launched at the beginning of this year. So technically Wink is 2nd in the game. But all I hear is “the first ever”. Who’s keeping a track right?
Wink seems too pricey and hello, no snob value. But one day, I’m sure I’ll see a panwallah reading a gujju newspaper during an extended lunch hour on one such device. And then he’ll take off in Tata Nano. All I can ask for is that he not judge me when he sees me with a then extinct real book.
This appeared in The SA Times on Saturday.You know you were born in a pre-independent India if you strongly believe that a critic of books, theatre, cinema, art or anything else that fits the ‘creative’ mould would be someone who is qualified to carry out the task through detailed study, evaluation and interpretation of the subject. Someone who has a deep understanding of the form of art and is able to objectively assess without letting mass media opinions and biases impact his decision. Someone who has the requisite experience to understand the why, how and what of it.
Fast forward to 2010 and EVERYONE is a critic. Me included. I’m worse off actually. This article will in fact establish be as a critic of the new generation of critics. It’s a spooky place to be but someone has to do it so I shall oblige. And it’s not like I live in Iran where people get sto… terrible things happen when you do irresponsible acts like this so what the heck.
In the 90s, when every other news and tech magazine was running cover page stories of ‘internet explosion’, the extent of explosion was unfathomable. Some possibilities looked promising, some fascinating and most were inconceivable. Social media was one such concept. It’s gone from ‘ya right’ back in the day to a ‘the only way to live’ super rapidly. It’s also the sole reason why everyone is a critic now.
I have my reservations about whether people produced a million opinions a day in the pre social media era. With the ‘whats on your mind’ and the ‘whats happening’ questions that these website pose, one is forced to think and in turn produce an opinion on the spur. Opinions are a dime a dozen so guess how much these websites are worth. Some opinions have to be limited to 140 characters and if one doesn’t take a bold stance, the ‘likes’ make a no show. And we all know those likes are almost as important as paychecks. I’ve noticed trends lately where even zygotes criticize established authors and actors mercilessly especially if their gender is male. Women get the soft treatment atleast on the face. If the good old notion of ‘no publicity is bad publicity’ is to be relied on, it must help those on the receiving end of it a tiny bit. But I can’t help but feel a little sad every time I come across brash and brazen virtual bashing. Wittily worded criticism sounds catchier than simply expressed admiration and goes viral much faster thanks to those impressionable brains amongst us. Forwards, Retweets and several copy-paste statuses later, it becomes something equivalent of a movement ruthlessly scrutinizing those in question.
In good old days, an author or an actor would just have to open a few newspapers and flip a few news channels the morning after to check reviews. It is a rather extensive process now. First thing in the morning, with trembling hands, check Youtube or MTv to see if someone’s made a parody of their work already, then check online newspapers before checking their print versions to read public comments on the review, then watch news channels through fingers covering their faces to listen to random civilians being interviewed outside movie theatres expressing candid views, then log onto their Facebook fan pages and check who’s said what, then check their personal Twitter account to check how badly they’ve been butchered … and so it goes.
Yup, it’s a way of life. Perhaps soon enough, everyone in the public eye will mutate enough to swallow the superfluous criticism and go about life as usual. After all, as Aamir Khan once infamously said “Apun public hai public, jisme apna paisa vasool nahin, uska dabba gul.” True that.
This appeared on gqindia.com today.
I might be slow on life lessons but have discerned that near perfect weekend mornings aren't an illusion. My new blueprint is here to stay until it gets old: divine savory mushroom crepes and tangy goat cheese salad for brunch, a modest bit of sun to warm up my face, Wall Street Journal’s weekend edition which is so heavy I can almost skip weight training, followed by a frothy drink to accompany me as I strut down the city streets.
I was gearing up for an 'everything exotic' afternoon last Saturday when abruptly the backdrop changed into familiar territory. God loving souls in a salmon soft cotton tee and matching dhoti with salmon powder smeared across their foreheads. Engaging a crowd. Imparting bliss. Allocating books. I took it as a sign from God that its time to buy the salmon shorts I've been eyeing at Zara (although I'm not entirely sure it'll complement my personality), read some interesting books (the profound ones have been neatly put away and I've read way too many breezy ones), replace my Lancôme sheer powder (Dr. Oz's bacteria detection tests on stale cosmetics have given me numerous nightmares about live stuff mooching off my bronzer. it's morbid) and mingle with new people (a competent geek, a fashion forward gay dude and a wonky writer is what I wish to add to the current mix of acquaintances). Mental notes made! I don't need next gen phones to remind me of notes I make on the fly. My brain never runs into space, capacity or performance issues despite storing petabytes of seemingly worthless information.
ISCKON followers sublimely dancing away in the trendy Haight Ashbury neighborhood of San Francisco where hippies hold fort is not something I expect to see. Or for that matter on Filmore street which hosts the city’s most glam designer stores and chic restaurants.. “The soul transmigrates from body to body” is what fell on my ears as I walked by and all I could do was wish my soul would get the body of the girl on roller blades across from me (her, LA 10; me, LA disqualified).
Ubiquitous (ISCKON followers), yes they are. I should have known post running into them in Rio de Janeiro, London and Santa Monica in the months gone by. It wasn’t just them. I ran into a gypsy tarot card reader recently and received some mystical wisdom “don’t be afraid to open yourself to the world”. But I'm on Twitter! Then there was this Sufi Saint in downtown saying jumbled words. And my loan agent’s been insisting I use his astrology site.
All mere coincidences or is the universe conspiring to uncover a revelation to me? *Shudder*. If my caffeine addiction doesn’t kill me, this trepidation certainly will. But I’ll still blog from afar.
A link to the article on GQIndia.com: http://www.gqindia.com/content/sign-above
