Amidst that uncompromising fog of fervour and furore about Taslima Nasreen’s poetry, it’s forgotten that her plume coaxed Cry from sax genius Steve Lacy. Mujhe Dena Aur Prem, her first Hindi collection, likely won’t hit a note as high.
What is it about Unmukt Chand that so readily lends to India’s champion U-19 skipper that ‘aww shucks’ quality? His winning ways, the happy knack of spending hours at the crease, his gel-spiked plumage, or that irresistable little brotherly chutzpah?
For one possessed of such impeccable form on the hog, it’s surprising MSD’s superbike racing dream hadn’t peeled out earlier. But then, he does like to ride on the seat of his pants. He’ll need his bottom hand to tackle the chicanery of the race course. And Nagarjuna, to bail him out of those tight spots.
Where once her unflinchingly shapely sashays down the runway radiated unattainability, Sushmita’s decision to walk back down that thinly sliced memory lane can only be said to have been a bad trip. But if the harsh reality was jarring, Momma Sen’s helping hand was not.