ATMs, any time any place
Plastic + Silicon = Crisp Paper. A sleek equation, and aeons away from that ancient Indian torture called the Mint with the Hole: a dirty metal token through which if you looked long and hard enough you saw a grumpy cashier lazily flicking his thumb between his tongue and a yellowing wad. (Or do you still prefer banking with a human touch?)
Something’s brewing
Sullen Black Knights behind an iron cage. Vile amber potions. Desperate buccaneer names. That was our poison—Indian Made Foreign Liquor! Now we don’t have to drink ourselves oxymoronic. Aussie beer, Russian vodka, Californian red wine and Scottish—well, Scotch. We must be maturing with age.
Me, The Dog & My Li’l iPod
The rub lies in how much music you can cache and carry. Back then too, punks were wired for sound. (First as the Walkman; then the Diskman, 25 albums in CD zipper.) But now techheads are truly liberated from market whims. It’s free music: hot off the Net, rapidly shared, zapped into gigabyte pocket libraries. Only, we download more, listen less.
The Gas of Life
If NASA had studied the ozone layer above Delhi’s ITO crossing in the ‘90s, it’d have doubtless found a gaping, smoking hole. It was Asia’s nastiest junction, crossing it the equivalent of being in the vicinity of a million frying onions.CNG changed all that. But the devil still stalks the crossroads in other metros, and we can smell the sulphur.
Saassy sagas
Once, unisex lather ruled. Then, a tectonic shift in domestic politics: Kyunki Saas.... Nameless nuclear bahus battled their men for the remote to feast on joint family zenanigans. Side-effects: Komolika-style sexy blouses, mile-long mangalsutras (and TV No. 2, with hubby playing Beyonce on mute).
Nautch everywhere
Cut to hot babe in a mini-me dress...Babuji, zara dheere...the audience wakes up. The item girl, the face of a thousand promos, is the new pauseless, unbuttoned face of Bollywood. But it’s raw, in-your-face action, nothing like the sexy elegance of a ’70s Helen. It seems our buds have taken a liking to extra chilli flakes.
Credit worthy
Bought a wonder car that runs on "finance". So what if sundry EMIcheques...for the AC, plasma screen TV, touchscreen laptop...are bouncing like rubber balls? They are now ready with a loan against that car! And there’s a new gold card in the mailbox. Maybe even a new address on the edge of town.
Cricket cimbos
How did Mr & Mrs Batliwala get hooked on to the Pathan? Well, they brought in the bimbo. Even old aficionados are tuning into the ‘expert’ opinion bubbling out from noodle-strapped eye candy. Who cares if Mandira doesn’t know fine leg from third man? Everyone’s waiting for rain to stop play.
Gym-toned babalog
Toned and muscled is ‘the look’ for middle-class India now. Even auntyji and uncleji are at the gym, grunting their way to sleeker shapes, healthier hearts. Taut biceps are in, spare tyres are out. Who would have ever thought?
Art for our Sake
Dear Indian/NRI, made your first $20 mn yet? Well, there’s a large Raza or Souza out there just waiting for you. Perfect accessory for those silken walls. And we can talk for hours, over wine, about Op Art —opulent artifice, that is.
Dhoom the Kasbah
Debojit from Assam, Qazi from Kashmir...you see ’em everywhere, Buntis & Bablis from small towns chasing big dreams in a liberalising, changing India. Not just in TV talent shows, but in fashion institutes, call centres, beauty contests....
