I had heard a lot of bizarre stories about India but it just took one trip to Delhi (as part of the recent F1 circus) to realise how crazy things really are. For starters, let me tell you about a visitor (Filmy Canwallah) who called on me. Normally, I wouldn’t have entertained him but for a call from Hillary Clinton herself. So there I was, ushering in Mr Canwallah. “Namaste, Stefani Joanne Angelina Germanottajii,” he said with a warm smile. “Mr Canwallah...let me call you Can... and I guess you can call me Gaga,” I said upfront. (The last time I heard my full name was from an angry teacher at the Sacred Heart School, east Manhattan). “Oh pardon me,” Can was apologetic, “in India we like to be formal, Germanottaji, sorry, Gagaji. But henceforth I will only use the name of your preference.”
With that out of the way, I was curious to know his equation with Hillary Clinton. “Oh that,” he said rather sheepishly, “I must confess I know her though she doesn’t know me. Actually, I sought the services of a friend from one of the comedy shows to call you. He’s a very good mimic. Why, not just Hillary, he can even do Obama.” Hearing this, I was naturally upset. “So you’re a conman?” I screeched in C-sharp. He was even more apologetic: “Gagaji, that was the only way to meet you. See, I have a great film project lined up. Will you listen to the plot?” he implored. And immediately, without as much as waiting for my response, launched into the story: “It’s about a singer who falls in love with an F1 driver and forgets all about her own bhola bhala—I mean simple and innocent—chauffeur. The poor chap actually loves her but she doesn’t know. Finally, the lady gives up on the F1 guy because he can’t drive in Delhi’s manic traffic and wears out too many tyres. Also, she likes bhola bhala’s mother’s desi cooking. In a nutshell, it’s a romantic musical with several songs including Bebe Gaga/Bhabi Gaga.” Here, Can hummed the tune which sounded like Queen’s Radio Gaga. I let that pass but wondered if I would have to do any running around trees. “Fantastic question,” he exclaimed, “we have something more innovative—the trees will run around you! Extras dressed in foliage (made of bio-degradable, Centre for Science and Environment-certified eco-friendly plastic) will do the running around.”
Well, from here on there was no stopping Can. Incidentally, the film’s title will be ‘Gaa-Gaa-Ga-Ga’ (Gaa means ‘sing’ in Hindi). When he finally left, I thought the worst was over. But a team of Indian auditors from CAG barged in. They wanted me to sing a jingle. The lyrics: ‘Lady Gaga say don’t gag the CAG/ Keep flyin’ the flag/ ’Cos from veggies to valium/Groceries to grenades/Every bill is a charade fake parade.’
Phew! But it didn’t end there. Folks from the Phone Tappers Association called, they wanted to adopt my hit, Telephone, as their jiving song. They claimed it helped them relax after hours of monitoring calls! After all this, what do I tell folks back home other than repeat that familiar mantra—India is truly incredible....
(As imagined by Ajith Pillai)
