Right, so what was 2001 like. As always, full of action, full of incident. But one man, clearly, controlled the year. No, it wasnt Bush, the guy with the arms and the arrogance. It was that bearded dude, the Saudi Arabian with 18 kids. Cant think of anyone who has occupied so much press space, TV space and mind space in just four months. He caused world markets to crash. Billions of dollars to be lost. Jobs to be taken away. And what did Bombay do?
Parmeshwar partied. Fardeen snorted. Farhan rocked. Aamir soared. Mallya rode high. Akshay married. Ektaa ruled. kbc was locked. k3g unleashed. Shobhaa added another a. Shatrughan went on stage. Zubin delighted. Dada Moni passed away. And Busybee was gone.
But global recession, economic downturn and tragedies be damned. Nothing fazes this city of seven islands. Bomb it, blast it, ravage it. Bombay gets up and walks. Or dances.
The Glitterati, the Chatterati, the Gossipati, the Page Threeati, and the Socialiati of Bombay know how to party, how to rock. Seven days a week. Hangovers, late nights, no bar. And they partied in 2001, like never before.
Bombays entrepreneurial spirit met them more than halfway. You could sample varieties of coffee at absurd prices. Puff intelligently at cigar lounges. Sip wine at art galleries. Bowl, shoot or recite poetry at entertainment centres. Take your pick from Vietnamese, Burmese and Italian multi-cuisine eat-outs. Groove maniacally in smoke-filled techno pubs. And boast of your most recent foreign jaunts at European-style bistros. This year, glitter truly met gastronomy. For the first time, Bombay seemed like New Yorks Greenwich Village.
And another year just rolled by.