The deal to start operations of AirAsia India—the common man's airline—firmed up, the joint venture's advisor, Ratan Tata, takes charge of the controls. The limp thumbs-up is being delivered by group chief Tony Fernandes.
Chetan Bhagat, cult author for the neo-literate, spins around Gujarat for a NatGeo series, sponsored by a carmaker. “I want to see the real India," says he, though a Siddi village (see Books) finds him probably contacting an exotic call-centre.
Where are they going, a slouching, ochre-toned Deepika Padukone revving up her rusty, stationary Bajaj scooter, a grimly determined Shahrukh clinging on? A warning (publicity) shot for pea-brained Bollywood's stupidest south-watching movie. That's an achievement in itself.
The tide is high, the surf is green, the rum's served, and cricket's but a distant screen.... That's doggerel in case you didn't notice, but both terrible commentary and uninspiring cricket at Kingston's Sabina Park couldn't distract us from the beach beauties on display.