The Seventh Night - The Veena and the Jackfruit

Veena Vadini
One of the many names of the Goddess Saraswati and so her association with the veena is fairly well known. But what has the lumpy, unprepossessing jackfruit have to do with the veena?  
Well, let me start with the veena first….
The veena, one of the oldest instruments in the world, symbolizes both the divine and the primordial. Its physical form is said to represent the human spinal cord and the sound that it creates is said to be closest to the human voice. Said to have been invented by Narada, the celestial musician and son of Brahma, many deities in the Hindu divine pantheon played this instrument including Lakshmi, Parvati, Hanuman and Shiva.
But apparently the maestro of the veena was Ravana who played this instrument with such expertise that he could please any divine power with his music!
There are several references to the veena in the Puranas, the Mahabharata and the Ramayana. As the story goes, Valmiki, after completing the Ramayana, said that when it is recited/sung, the instrument most suitable to accompany it was the veena.
But it is the association of the veena with the Goddess Saraswati that remains the most enduring and profound. Presiding deity as she is not just of knowledge and wisdom and the arts, but of all sound, musical and spoken (one of her many names is “Vach”) it is but natural that the veena should be such an integral part of her divinity.
In her hands, it symbolizes more than just music. It symbolizes harmony, not just musical harmony, but harmonious existence of all living things, it symbolizes the music of the universe, the eternal sea of sound in which rest all of creation, all of knowledge and all of healing.
19 Veenas, one music
Across the splendid expanse of its ancient history and in consonance with its image as the musical instrument of the gods, the veena has had as many avatars as the divinities that played it. Among the 25 or more known avatars of the veena, here are some of the more interesting ones
Veena Parivadini - Said to possess strings made out of gold and was performed by the Pallava king, Mahendravarman
Mahati – 20 stringed veena said to have been played by sage Narada
Pinaki – played with a bow.  Lord Shiva is also called  “Pinakapani” or He who holds of the Bow.
Rudra – Shiva’s instrument, named after him and is the veena currently played in North India.
Brahma veena - has only one string
Satatantri – the 100-stringed veena which existed over 2000 years ago and said to be the ancestor of the santoor.
Kinnari – mostly widely seen and mentioned in Sanskrit literature, paintings and sculptures.
Vipanchi – the 9 stringed veena which is mentioned in Adi Sankaracharya’s 'Soundarya Lahari'
Ravanahatta – the veena supposed to have been invented by Ravana and named after him. It is still popular in Rajasthan
Audumbari – the veena played during Vedic times by the wives of the sages when they recited the Vedas during sacrifices. “Audumbari” means “papal” in Sanskrit and it is possible that this veena was made out of the wood of the pipal tree.
Finally of course is the exquisite Saraswati veena that is to this day is played and is the most popular in Carnatic music
Which leaves us with the bit about the jackfruit…
Which is what the modern day veena is made from - the wood of the jackfruit tree! Chosen because of its particularly resonant quality. But I like the explanation given by Mangalam Muthuswamy, a well-known vainika. According to her, the tradition started in olden days, when the wood was taken from jackfruit trees growing in temple courtyards because it was believed that they had absorbed the resonance of the temple bells!

Magical jackfruit!

And the fruit that looks like a cross between a lumpy green hippo and a porcupine has other magical things about it….
The jackfruit grows all over Asia and in many Asian countries like Sri Lanka and Cambodia; one of the foods believed to increase breast milk production in nursing mothers is tender jackfruit!
And why not? Look at the nutrition that it packs in! Starting with beta-carotene, cued by the beautiful yellow-gold colour of its insides. Beta carotene, apart from being one of the most powerful disease-fighting antioxidants, is also the raw material, which the body converts into Vitamin A, the deficiency of which causes millions of children in developing countries like India to go blind. The jackfruit’s cache of Vitamin A is high enough for it to be recommended in the Bangladesh government’s campaign to combat vitamin A deficiency.
Then, like so many other tropical fruits, jackfruit also is an excellent source of minerals like calcium, potassium, iron etc. In fact, it is said to contain more calcium and magnesium than the banana!
The jackfruit is also an excellent source of complex carbohydrate and dietary fibre, making it a great energy food. In fact, the jackfruit’s nutritional profile makes it the perfect staple food – which it is, especially among poor Asians. T
he seeds are even more impressive - dietary fiber, vitamins A, C and certain B vitamins, calcium, zinc, sulfur and phosphorous, apart from a whole range of antioxidants! In Kerala, many even say that kanji eaten with “spoons” made of the leaves of the jackfruit tree is good for respiratory problems!
Today and for the next 3 days, we worship the Goddess Saraswati, one of the Devi’s five avatars. Wellspring of all wisdom, all art. Awed by this, the Lalitha Sahasranama reels of a hosanna of names.
Veda-Janani - Mother of the Vedas, who feeds not only our bodies but also our souls as Gyanada - the giver of Supreme Knowledge.
Gayatri or the Gayatri mantra itself.
Without her we would’ve been mute, because She is Gomata - the source of speech.
Bhasharupa, the embodiment of language.
Kalanatha, Kalanidhih and Kalavati - the fountainhead, the presiding deity, the very embodiment of all art.
Kavyakala - the art of poetry.
From her springs rhythm and music because She is Layakari.
She is not just Yogini but also Yogada and Yogananda who blesses us with the wisdom and bliss realized through yoga.
And finally, She is Vedyavarjita - She who being all knowing, has nothing more to know.

The Sixth Night - What is Brinda doing in Your Medicine Cabinet? (Or for that matter, Gauri? Madhavi?)

Some would call her a herb but that would be the most inadequate of labels because she is so many things. Medicine, antiseptic, health food, tonic, insect repellant, air purifier. And as many think her to be, even your passport to heaven. She has been a part of our homes, our temples, our rituals, our everyday lives for centuries.
We name our daughters after her.
And she even figures in India’s most watched television serial.
But, lest we forget, she is also a Goddess.
Today is the 6th night of Navratri and the last one dedicated to the Goddess Laxmi. So what better occasion than today to tell you about Her most wondrous avatar.

Tulsi

Its English name “basil” is derived from Greek basileus which means “imperial” because the  fragrance of this herb is considered royal. In Latin, it is called Ocimum sanctum , ocimum said to be from the Greek word 'to smell,' and sanctum meaning holy or sacred. But it is in India, the place of its birth, where it has not one but many, many beautiful names.
Patrapuspha, Brinda, Gauri, Haripriya, Krishnamula, Madhavi, Manjari, Vaishnavi.
And of course - Laxmi

Nature’s GP
Remember that now almost extinct species of doctor called the general physician? Whom you went to not only to treat your ingrown toenails and your baby’s influenza, but also your mother-in-law’s dicky heart? Whose bedside manner was almost as healing as his medicines? Well, you could say that the tulsi plant is Mother Nature’s GP. Just look at the vast range of ailments that it can treat – coughs, colds, bronchitis, asthma, influenza, headaches, skin diseases like ringworm, bad breath and pyorrhea, digestive problems, heart disease and insect bites.
Impressed? Wait – how about that if I tell you that it can sharpens your memory, is a nerve tonic, anti-malarial drug and painkiller!
Its wide-spectrum curative powers seem to be coming primarily because of the presence of two things. First, a chemical in tulsi’s volatile oil called Eugenol, which basically acts the way many anti-inflammatory medications including aspirin and ibuprofen work. This along with a whole host other chemicals in tulsi’s volatile oil, also makes it a very potent anti-bacterial agent, effective against all kinds of nasty microbes including Staphylococcus aureus (the food poisoning villain), Escherichia coli O:157:H7, (causes stomach problems like dysentery and diarrehea) and Pseudomonas aeruginosa, (the lung infection baddie).
Secondly, tulsi is rich in antioxidants, particularly beta-carotene, which is the source material from which the human body produces vitamin A. And it is the presence of this that makes tulsi so effective in the treatment of heart disease, lowering cholesterol and treating eye disorders like night blindness. Incidentally, along with vitamin A, tulsi is also a good source of iron (7.15 % of your daily requirement in just 2 teaspoons of leaves) and calcium (6.3 %) and of potassium and vitamin C.

Adaptogen

I know – many of you are going, “huh?” As I did too. Well, put in layman’s terms, an adaptogen is anything that helps prevent the onset of illnesses by strengthening the body’s immune systems and make you able to adapt and cope with a wide range of physical, emotional, chemical and infectious stresses. Did I just use the word “stress”? Yes I did! And this perhaps is the tulsi’s least talked about but most impressive attribute. That it is considered as a powerful adaptogen, a stress buster, strengthening the immune system by increasing antibody production with its antibiotic, antiviral, and antifungal properties. Dr. Andrew Weil, that high-profile, high priest of integrative medicine in the West talks of a “study, published in 1991 in the Indian Journal of Pharmacology, compared tulsi to Siberian ginseng (Eleutherococcus senticosus) and Asian ginseng (Panax ginseng) and found that holy basil was the most potent anti-stress agent of the three, and also had the highest margin of safety. However, this study, as well as a dozen others I found in a search of the medical literature, was conducted in laboratory animals, not humans….”

Well, laboratory animals or not, I for one don’t need more research to convince me. Because I think that with that spectacular bio-date of nutritional and medicinal properties, it’s more than likely that the tulsi is indeed a potent tonic.
Which is why like the rudraksha, it is worn – especially by Vaishnavites – as a necklace so that it remains constantly in touch with the body. Which is why often, Hindu and Buddhist japamalas are made of tulsi wood. And why among with all the protective mantras or “kavacham” that supplicate Durga, Narayana, Mahalakshmi, Gayatri, Shamugan there is one for the Tulsi as well….
Holy Herb
There are so many references to the tulsi in the Hindu ancient texts, both medicinal and religious, that it is the subject of a thesis and a book. But, the essence of it is that the tulsi plant, avatar of the Goddess Mahalakshsmi, was churned out of the ocean along with Kamadhenu the cow, the parijata and Dhanwantri, the deva who became the preceptor of Ayurveda. Considered so sacred that in the Padma Purana it is said even the soil in which it grows is sacred. That just one twig, is enough to cleanse the soul of the most heinous sinner, when placed near the dead body. So pure that many consider that it purifies the air around where it grows.
And since the Goddess Laxmi is Lord Vishnu’s consort, so the tulsi is His most beloved, so much so that it is also called Vishnupriya.
Which is how Brindvan got its name.
You see, Lord Krishna, his most favourite playground was a spot near Mathura, which  – as one story goes -  was a lush tulsi grove. And  'Vrinda' is also one of tulsi’s many names. And so, to this day, the traditional pot in which the tulsi is grown is called a vrindavan.
I end with this beautiful little legend. It is said that Krishna, after completing his work on earth, continued to live in Dwarka with his wives. But the gods therefore wanted him back in heaven. So they kidnapped him. Rukmini and Satyabhama were inconsolable without their beloved Krishna. So, Narada, that Grandsire of Negotitions, brought the ladies a celestial deal. It was this. That the gods would return Krishna to them if Rukmini and Satyabhama could outweigh him when he sat in one pan of a weighing scale {tula).
”Done!” said the ladies and Satyabhama had the first go, heaping all of her vast riches onto the pan of the scale. But to no avail – it floated up light as a feather! Now it was Rukmini’s turn. She first cleared away all Satyabhama’s riches, then plucked a few leaves of tulsi and put it in the scale. The pan dropped down immediately, the one in which Krishna sat went up….
And he got to stay with his beloved wives.
Namastulsi  Kalyaani
Namo  Vishnupriye  Shudhe
Namo  Mokshaprade Devi
Namaha  Sampat  Pradaayike
Happy Navaratri!

The Fifth Night - A Lotus in Your Frying Pan

Padma – Lotus
Padmavarna – She who is the colour of the lotus
Padmapriya: She who loves lotus
Padmalochana – She whose eyes are like the lotus
Padmalaya – She who is the abode of the lotus
Padmagandha – She who is the fragrance of the lotus
Padmakshi: One whose eyes are as beautiful as a lotus.
Padmahastam: One who holds a lotus
Nelumbo nucifera, Or as you and I know it – the lotus.
The most recurring association of the Goddess Lakshmi is with the lotus flower. “The meaning of the lotus in relation to Shri-Lakshmi refers to purity and spiritual power.” Wikipedia
That it is sacred, we all know.
The East has always regarded the lotus as sacred, pure; the symbol of beauty, eternity, fertility and prosperity. It also considered a sign of spiritual consciousness rising above the dross and the material because though its roots grow in mud and swamp, the stem carrying the bloom always rises above the water.
It also considered a sign of spiritual consciousness rising above the dross and the material because though its roots grow in mud and swamp, the stem carrying the bloom always rises above the water.
Virtually every God and Goddess of Hinduism are often shown sitting on the lotus, holding a lotus flower in their hand and have names associating them with the lotus.
In yoga, one of the most serene yet powerful of poses is the padmasana, the posture for meditation and one assumed by the Jain Tirtanthakaras (the 6th Tirtankhara’s name is Padmaprabha) and by the Buddha.
But did you know that the lotus leaf is no less a source of wonderment?
Scientifically speaking, that is.
You see, scientists have for years been fascinated by the fact that even though the lotus grows in swampy, dirty, muddy waters, it never gets wet or dirty. And that is because it is an astounding example not just of natural water proofing but also self-cleaning. If you have ever noticed the surface of a lotus leaf, it seems to have a wax like coating. Actually, this “coating” is thousands of microscopic bumps which ensure that when water falls on it, very little comes in contact with the leaf’s surface (only 2-3%!). Which is why water “rolls” up into little mercury-like beads, leaving the leaf dry and untouched. And every time these beads of water roll around the leaf’s surface, they also roll up all surface dirt and dust, leaving everything clean and and beautifully dry.
These amazing water-resistant and self-cleaning properties of the lotus leaf were first studied in 1997 by the German botanist, Wilhelm Barthlott. Since then, everyone from Dupont, the non-stick rajahs to manufacturers of aircraft windshields and computer hard disks have been researching and trying to mimic what is now called the “lotus effect”. And research continues to try and mimic the lotus leaf to coat airplane wings to keep them from icing up, to line the hulls of ocean liners to make water roll off them more easily and therefore make them move faster and of course for more efficient waterproof clothing!
Today is the 5th night of the Devi, dedicated again to her most enthralling avatar – the Goddess Lakshmi.
She is Lajja or modesty.
She is Tushtih or contentment
She is Pushti or nourishment and health.
She is Kantir - radiance,
She is Shantih - peace.
Matir - wisdom
Nirmala or Purity.
Dhrutih or Fortitude
Chinmayi or pure Consciousness.
She is limitless (Nirantara).
She is the oldest (Vrddha), yet She is the ever young (Taruni).
She is Murta - who has form yet She is Amurta -who is formless.

The Fourth Night – A Poet, A Goddess and A Pot of Buttermilk

Today is the first of the three nights of Navaratri dedicated to the Goddess Lakshmi

As MahaVishnu lay resting on a fig leaf in the form of a child, he began thinking as to who he was, who created him and how he should act, when a celestial voice said:
“Sarvankhalvidamevaham
Nanyadasti santanam.”
(All that is, I am. There is nothing eternal but me.)
It was the voice of the Devi.
Consort of Lord Vishnu and considered The Devi’s most sublime form. Because we mostly propitiate for wealth and good fortune, not many of us remember that She is also considered the seat of compassion, peace and all things good and beautiful….
And I am reminded of buttermilk and a man called Puranadaradasa…
A few months ago, a folk singer landed up at my gate, as they often so. A young man with skin like dark chocolate and large, liquid eyes to match, he wore just a saffron dhoti and shallu. The tiny harmonium slung around his neck was so old and beat up that it was difficult to make out some of the black keys from the white. But when he began to play and sing, it was pure, divine magic. His fingers flew across those cracked keys, coaxing out the notes of Raga Tilang. His voice was like graveled, melted jaggery. And the song? A Purandaradasa devaranama. I listened enthralled, at one point moved to tears. And marveled at a man called Puranadaradasa who, nearly 5 centuries ago, with his pitara of magical songs must have roamed the land, touching the hearts of people just as this young singer touched mine – with the very same songs. Five centuries later. his compositions like his bhakti are like little pools of crystal clear water, uncluttered by affectation and needless ornamentation.
Even though he is called the “Pitamaha” of Carnatic music, Puranadaradasa was essentially the people’s poet. His compositions like his bhakti are like little pools of crystal clear water, uncluttered by affectation and needless ornamentation. You dip in and come out refreshed. And the language is simple and homespun but delicious, making the compositions go down like a glass of cool, spicy buttermilk on a hot summer afternoon.

So, of Purandaradasa’s many, many compositions - an astounding 4,75,000 compositions at last count – his sweetest, most beautiful and the one dearest to the hearts of us Kannadigas is the one he composed to the Goddess Lakhsmi. For 500 years it has been sung in a million different ways, spanning the entire musical gamut from Carnatic to folk, but however you sing it, the simple magic of the words never lessens as he begs for a visitation by the Goddess Lakhshmi……
“Sowbhayda Lakshmi baaramma
Namamma Ni….
Gejjekaalgala dhwaniya torutha
Hejje mele hejjeya nikkuta
Sajjana sadhu poojeya velege
Majjige volagina benne yante
Bhagyalakshmi baramma”
“O Goddess of Good Fortune, come
O Our Mother, come…
To the sound the anklets on Your feet
As You walk
As the good people get ready to pray
As butter emerges from buttermilk
O Lakhshmi of Good Fortune, O Mother
Come….”

She is Bhagavati, the supreme goddess.
Bhuvaneshvari, the sovereign of the universe. Maha-Shakti - the Greatest Power, Mahabala - the Greatest Strength
Mahavirya – the greatest valour.
Mahabuddhih - the Greatest Intelligence,
Mahasiddih - the Greatest Fulfillment.
Maharatih – the Greatest Bliss,
Maharupa –the most magnificent form.
Maha-Pujya – the most worthy of worship, even by Brahma, Vishnu and Shiva.

The Third Night

When Bri. Maya Tiwari was diagnosed with terminal ovarian cancer at the age of 23, and at the height of an extraordinarily successful career as a fashion designer in New York, her doctor recommend that she die painlessly with "heavy doses of morphine." Instead, Maya went on a self-healing process using “the wisdom and healing practices of the Vedas”. She realized that not only was the source of all disease and healing within us, but also that disease was an opportunity to go inwards, to re-establish contact with our own forgotten powers to heal us physically, emotionally and spiritually.
And to share with the world this personal journey from sickness to health, she wrote The Path of Practice – A Woman’s Book of Ayurvedic Healing, a glorious celebration of being a woman and of feminine power.
"The Divine Mother endowed all females with two gifts: the power to nurture and the power to protect. Shakti is more than the energy of reproduction. It is the spirit of protecting the sacred, gathering food, worshipping the Divine and giving birth to children, to inspiration, to idea and to art."
The book contains this amazing anecdote about the Lalitha Sahasranama
“Not long ago, I met Anna, a fourteen year-old girl who had been diagnosed with anorexia.  Anna said that her reason for not eating was that voices in her head were ordering her not to touch a morsel of food or else she would be severely punished…..As I meditated one day, I realized that she needed to be bathed in sounds of Vedic chants. I recorded a powerful chant for her that evokes the Divine mother’s presence – Lalitha Sahasranama, a thousand names of the Mother. Anna’s parents later described to me her reaction the first time that they played the tape in her presence. She suddenly became very quiet and her ex-pression became fixed, almost as if she was in a trance. As soon as the tape ended, she saked her mother to play it again. “I love the voice. I love the music,” she said.

She listened to the tape repeatedly throughout the next week.  Then she announced, “The voices are gone. I don’t hear them anymore. All I hear is the voice of the chants.” Anna is now eating normally and on her way to recovery.”
She is the Mother who guides us to walk the right path.
Because She is Madanashini, who destroys all pride and ego because She herself is Nirahankara – without ego;
Lobhanashini, who destroys greed because She herself is Nirlobha (without greed), Samshayaghni, who obliterates suspicion and doubt because She is Nishamshaya (without suspicion).
She is Krodha-Samani, who smoothes away anger since She is eternally Nishkrodha or without anger.
She is the mother who empowers us because She is Iccha-shakti-Gyana-shakti-Kriya-shakti- Svarupini, the Power of will, knowledge and action.
In her presence, obstacles melt away because She is Vighna Nashini. In her purifying radiance, we are freed from sin because She is Parampaapanashini.
With her blessing, we earn the fruits of good deeds because She is Punyaphalprada.
And so, She is Vandaru jana Vatsala – who loves her devotees like a mother.
Or then, She is just simply – Mata.

The Second Night of Navaratri

Tonight is the second night of Navratri
The Garba dance that is part of navratri celebrations comes from the word “Garbha deep”. Garbha meaning "womb" and “deep” meaning light. On the first day of Navratri is the ceremony of Ghat Sthapana, when a beautifully decorated earthen pot with holes in it is set up and worshipped.
That pot represents the Devi and her most beloved aspect – The Mother
Because she is the place where it all began.
And so the Lalitha Sahasranama is replete with names for the Devi in her most powerful but most benign aspect – the Divine Mother.
Vishvagarbha or She who has the universe in her womb.
Brahma-janani - the Mother of everything.
Sri Mahi - Mother Earth.
Pranada, the Giver of life
Pranesvari, the Queen of all forms of life.
Annada – the Giver of food and nourishment.
Karunarasa-Sagara, the ocean of compassion

Dayamurtih – compassion itself.
We fervently invoke her presence because She is Duhkhahantri, who ends all sorrow, but like a mother, doesn’t stop there and becomes Sukhaprada, enveloping us with peace and joy. There is room for all in her compassionate embrace, because She is Bhedanashini, destroying disparity and why not, because She is Nirbheda – without any differences.
Where She is, there is no fear because She is Raakshagni, the destroyer of the demons that rage not just outside but also inside us. But most of all, because She is Mrutymathani, the destroyer of that terrible fear that haunts all who are born - the fear of death.

In my hometown Mysore, we have a very special relationship with the Devi.
As the story goes, we were once terrorized by the terrible demon Mahishasura and that the Devi took it upon herself to liberate us, appearing as the Goddess Chamundeshwari, who, got her name because her habit of slaying demons,  got her name when she made short work of 2 other fearsome demons, Chanda and Munda. After she destroyed Mahishasura, She decided to take up residence atop a charming little wooded hill. Or so we like to believe and so, in gratitude, we Mysoreans named the hill Chamundi in Her honour, built Her a fabulous temple with a 120 ft high gopuram that you can see from almost any point in Mysore. Actually, the temple was a gift to Mysore from the Hoysala king Vishnuvardhana in1128 A.D. And in case the demon had any ideas of resurrecting himself (demons are known to do such things), in a cunning sleight of hand, we put up a massive likeness of him on top of the hill so that he’d scare himself away.
We also called ourselves Mahishasura Ooru, now corrupted to Mysore, because in a way, we’re indebted to the demon too.

After all, he did bring us the attention of the Devi!

A Goat and a Gyani (not Zail Singh)

This is a  story about a goat, a Gyani and his shisya, a wonderful insight into  human nature

Once upon a time there a Great Gyani (heretofore referred to as GG) who had a devoted shisya

One day, the shisya lost his only son
Cut to GG's kutir
Enter Weeping Shishya
Falls at GG's feet and narrates his sorry tale

GG implacable, doesn't bat an eyelid, pats a there-there on  shishya's back and tells him to be like the Banyan Tree (heretofore referred to as BT) in Buddha's teachings.....unmoved, come rain or storm, joy or sorrow etc., etc

shishya goes home, desperately practices his BT asana....

....without much success, acquiring an attendant slipped disc, but persists

One day, while practicing aforementioned BT asana, shisya sees GG weeping inconsolably under a...yup a BT!

Shocked, shisya unasana-s himself and rushes to GG, concernedly enquiring cause of such devastating anguish

in between wracking sobs, GG tells shisya that his only goat died

shisya is first sympathetic, wipes tears, administers there-there pats

Then suddenly, PING!
Glob of crow guano from BT falls on shisya's head a-la--apple-on-Newton.
Penny drops
Shisya remembers the BT guru-updesh
Reminds GG about it

GG takes few seconds off from weeping and wailing
Slaps shisya hard across face

Shocked shishya asks , "WHY?!!"

GG flings dirty glance at shisya and says

"Woh toh tumhara beta tha.."

"Yeh meri bakri hai!"

End of Story

Nine Nights and a Thousand Names – The First Night of Navratri

The First Night of Navaratri
Aditi, Aparna, Malini, Nalini, Nandini, Sandhya, Medha, Ranjani, Rajni, Gauri, Nirupama, Savitri, Madhumati Yashasvini Sandhya, Vidya, Damini, Jaya, Sridevi, Meenakshi, Mohini, Lalita, Jayanti, Sita, Uma, Madhavi, Prabha, Indrani, Shalini, Arundhati, Nidhi, Sudha, Amruta, Shraddha, Radha, Tara not to mention Saraswati and Lakshmi. Just think of how many girls or women you know who have one of these names. All names of the Goddess. It’s my guesstimate – and probably a conservative one - that over half of all the girls in India have been named after Her. I recently heard a beautiful explanation about why we name our children after our deities.
Other than because it is auspicious etc., etc., it is also so that if in no other way, then in each time we call out their name, we have remembered God!
Today is the 1st  of those 9 days in the year that we dedicate to the Goddess. Navratri. Though there are different nuances to this festival in different parts of India, everywhere for these nine days, we celebrate and exult in the Goddess, in her many forms and manifestations. But “Goddess” is a miniscule description of She whom we so often call “Devi.”
Because it is with her that everything began, begins and will begin. And so, nothing, not even a million names and descriptions would ever suffice to describe the infinitude of Her. But the Lalitha Sahasranama is a beautiful place to start. “Lalitha” meaning one the Devi’s most beautiful incarnations and “Sahasranama” meaning a thousand (sahasra) names or descriptors. The sage Agastya dismayed by the way people had become steeped in ignorance and in the pursuit of worldly pleasures, worshipped the Devi Kamakshi at Kanchi for a solution. Lord Hayagriva (an incarnation of  Lord Vishnu) appeared before him and  gave him the Lalita Sahasranama as the best way to worship the Devi.
When you first hear it, just the sound of the Lalita Sahasranama being chanted, even if you didn’t understand a single word, grandly rumbling and resounding like a symphony of some distant, divine drums have a strange effect – calming, yet energizing; washing over you in wave after wave. But after a while, the meanings begin to filter through. I’m not a Sanskrit scholar, but even to me, who could understand just a few of the thousand names, the awesome beauty came through.
So, this Navaratri, every day, I would like to share with you a few small glimpses of the Devi through extracts from the Lalitha Sahasranama, in the hope that you will be both touched and blessed by Her …..
Tonight is the first of the three days dedicated to Goddess Durga. The name “Durga” in Snaskrit means invincible. Just before the start of the Mahabharata way, Lord Krishna asked Arjuna to pray to the Goddess Durga for victory…..

Fair Play – The fairness of men’s fairness creams

“Yeh gorey-gorey se chorey
Ooh yeah!” (Song from the film Hum Tum)

This is a long pending matter that was crying out to be addressed and a recent episode of dear Barkha’s talk show on the subject opened old wounds. So, after much gnashing of molars, gazing at navel lint and twisting and untwisting of knickers, this is what I have to say in the matter of fairness creams for men.
Now it is true that generations of delicately-bred Indian lassies have been fed a steady, unrelenting diet of Mills & Boon, Georgette Heyer and Barbara Cartland and therefore know that it is mandatory for the chaps who will sweep us off to Happily-Ever-After to be Tall, Dark and Handsome. TDH.
But if truth be told, there are many amongst us – in fact many, many, many-many-many-many amongst us who are actually partial to the TGG section of the male population.
Tall, Gora and Gorgeous.  Ooh yeah.
Mithun Chakravorty, Amitabh Bachchan and a few other stalwarts of the TDH community not withstanding.
Naturally, equally as many, many, many, many-many-many-many men twigged on to this little secret of ours early on in the game. And in the hope of acquiring some of the aforementioned TGG, were regularly purloining their behen-bhabhi-mummy’s stock of fairness creams. (Which, though utterly reprehensible, is a far, far better thing, you’ll have to admit, than purloining their behen-bhabhi-but-I-hope-not-mummy’s underwear.) This went on for quite a while until a savvy marketing type stumbled upon one such purloiner (not to be confused with Ajit-the-Loin) and sired…er, I mean launched a fairness cream for men.
Several more followed and ever since, droves of joyous, relieved men have been tumbling out of the TGG closet and rushing off to buy kilofuls of the gora-gunk. And if reports are to be believed, short of slathering it on their morning toast, they are doing everything else with it. (We’re not at liberty to go into the details of “everything else”.)
And my point is this.
I’ll admit it was slightly unnerving to see favourite hot-hunk in a fairness cream commercial. But at least he was not wallowing naked in a bathtub full of rose petals as Shahrukh “Six-Pack-Shanti” Khan was in that Lux ad, a sight enough to turn your hair into white earthworms. But other than that, I don’t see what all the fuss is about. I mean we already know that there’s a whole lot of waxing and tweezing and exfoliating and buffing (not what you think) going on in circles where once even after-shave lotion was considered namby-pamby. So what’s with the hissing and the heckling over a fairness cream?
Besides, it’s now all out in the open.
We know that you chaps (and your mummies) like us fair-‘n-lovely and we’ve been trying very hard to oblige. And now you know that we like you TGG. And you, the dear, devoted baa-lambs, are trying as hard to please. All with a little help from the cosmetic manufacturers who – bless their lying little hearts – are whipping up enough cream so that both sides will have an unlimited supply of goras and goris.

Also, we’re hoping that in the fullness of time, you will discover the Real Importance of Being Gora - which is the reason why we want you to be gorey-chorey in the first place.
You see, after years of watching those wonderfully empowering, uplifting (no relation of Wonderbra) fairness cream ads, we now know that the only thing that comes between us and becoming the Prime Minister of India or discovering a cure for cancer or water on Mars or spelling “thetaiotaomicron” backwards or mapping the genetic code of the blue gnu or the winning the Miss Bhatinda-USA crown is….yep, a skin that is….shudder…dark-‘n-ugly. What I mean to say is that the early bird got that worm not because she was early. And Bill Gates made his trillions not because he dropped out of school. It was because they never, ever left home without a tube of their trusty goreypan-ka-goo.
When you understand this, there will be no holding you lads back.
And before long we’ll hear empowering, uplifting (again no relation of Wonder Bra kind) stories of how young Harsha-Bhogle-wannabes, rejected as a cricket commentators on account of their not-quite-as-white-as-their-cricket-white complexion, slapped on some gorapan-ka-goo, turned whiter-than-cricket-whites…and became the next generation of Harsha Bhogles!
There will be rousing tales of how the Indian men’s hockey team was unstoppable at the Olympics simply because KPS Gill said “piffle-‘n-pshaw” to polishing up those dribbles and passes, just make sure that every player is given an unlimited supply of his favourite gorey-chorey unguent. We will wipe away many a happy tear when we hear how Himesh Reshamiya finally rose from the ashes of Karz-z-z-z-z-z and swept the Oscars, the Grammys, the Bafta and the Batatabhai Farsanbhai Filmfair Awards only because he never stopped…you know the drill.
In other words, Indian men will be the largest, the fastest, the richest, the cutest, the hottest….er, let’s just say that they will be to success what 38 DD is to bras.
And all only by the dint of their goreypan-ka-goo.
Which only leaves the breaking news just in. Vishal Bhardwaj’s next film will be the story of identical twins, Champu and Chamku. Both melanin-challenged. Champu is the bad ‘un, hunting for a plastic surgeon who will transplant Neil Nitin Mukesh’s gorey-chorey skin on his kaaley-kalutey one. Chamku is the good ‘un, working at a NGO that rehabilitates victims of dark skin, where one day he meets Lovely. Who has an identical twin.
Her name? Fair.
The name of the film?
“Gorey”
Dhan-tan-na.

Purple in The Sun

radhe ka bhi shyam….

Flowers from my garden –jasminum grandiflora….grand flora indeed!

Guavas from my tree!

Umad Ghumad Kar!

Independence day – Bangalore to Mysore

Sigh. Another Independence Day went by. Freedom, an ad screamed. At last, I thought but it was a soap promising to unfetter me from my oily skin. An India Today poll said that Biharis rated Laloo as the best chief minister they’d ever had, Star News showed little shriveled Oriyas dying after eating paste and the Outlook concluded that India was still a riddle (or is it muddle?), where apparently 68% of married women still needed permission from their husbands to go to the market….
Me – I celebrated Independence Day Eve by riding the evening bus from Bangalore to Mysore. Once a wonderful 3 hour journey through some of the most tranquilly beautiful countryside, it’s now an almost 4 hour harrowing ride through countryside thoughtfully dotted with gaudily lit beer bars and “panjabi dhabas” which provided truck and other drivers the necessary “refreshments” needed to hurtle at 70kmph towards what should be certain death but which is not because you expertly swerve away at the very last nano-second, missing by the sliver-est of a whisker. A kick almost as good as the beer. About midway through this thrilling excursion, there was a loud exhausted, p-s-s-s-s-sh from the nether regions of the bus. The driver slapping his head and exchanging an exasperated look with the conductor confirmed the joyous news – we had a puncture. As we ambled to a halt, I overheard this interesting exchange
Conductor “Do we have a jack?”
Driver: “We did, but someone took it.”
Even when our jack-less state became clear to all the passengers, I seemed to be the only one aghast. There was nothing left to do but start off again, wobbling at the pace of a bullock cart powered by Prozac till we reached the mid-point bus halt, fortunately nearby. While we refreshed ourselves with chota pegs of tea/coffee in little steel thimbles freshly rinsed in ditch water, the driver diligently went around the other buses halted there asking if any of them had a jack. Naturally, no one did. Why would a barely maintained State Transport bus that regularly pelts through 150 kms of one of the busiest, potholed stretch of roadway in the country need to keep a jack? I mean would an Eskimo stock up on ice cubes?
I looked around to see if anyone else was as alarmed as I was. There was only bonhomie and good cheer. So, to soothe my jangled nerves, I decided to visit the ladies’, tucked away at the end of a long, slushy path. I squelched through, determinedly looking at my feet because looking up would mean a direct view of the interior of the gents’ where somebody had thoughtfully positioned the urinals right next to the open doorway. I managed to make it without seeing anything that good girls shouldn’t.  The ladies’ had all the usual mod cons. No lights, a choice of lavatory stalls with either running water or doors that latch. (The rare ones that had both normally also had stylish piles of human excreta in various stages of ageing) I braced myself for the usual nostril-withering stench. There was none - only a faint spill over in from the men’s. Inside, instead of the usual surly (I’d be surly too if I had to shovel other people’s shit for a living!), slatternly “attendant”, stood a smiling, slim young woman in a clean blue saree with little white flowers, eyes shining in the velvety darkness that was her skin and the nightfall. I smiled back tentatively and ducked into the first loo. Surprise again – it was clean! But so that I wouldn’t get too spoiled, the door wouldn’t close. “Don’t worry,” the smiling chocolate-in- blue-sky girl said to me, “I’ll stand guard.” When I emerged, she was still there, the Guardian Angel of the Ladies Loo, white flowers blooming like her smile in the dank darkness. As I pressed a coin into her hand, in her eyes shone something bright and beautiful, something indomitable, something untouched by the filth she lived in and cleaned day in and day out. And free. Maybe it was just the moonlight. To me, it was the spirit of Free India…..

The Bhola Guru – Kishore Kumar

 

“Sitting the wall of the studio, I saw a man wearing a muffler and a cap and holding a black stick. He was imitating everyone who passed, just like a monkey. When we went into the studio, the man jumped off the wall and came into the recording room. Jo jo gane gatey the, unke satyanash karte huey, woh khud gana gane lage. When I asked him why he was doing this, he said, “I am an orphan. Nobody looks after me. Please give me a chance.” And saying this, R. D. Burman burst into laughter, just as I did after reading this interview (Filmfare, June 1984) because I could visualize the scene so clearly. And that man sitting on the wall. Kishore Kumar. Or as his fans so adoringly still call him after his unforgettable performance in Padosan – “Guru”. And this is the persona most popularly associated with him. The lovable, endearing prankster who with that wonderfully mobile face that never stayed still for a moment, those sparkling mischievous eyes of a child, those eyebrows that danced almost as marvelously as his body and most of all, that incredible voice, pranced his way into our hearts with such delightful songs as Hum toh mohabbat karega, Nakhrewali, Ankhon mein tum, Ik ladki bheegi bhagi si and C-A-T cat, cat mane billi. As Kishoreda himself put it so beautifully in a song, “Matawala naam hai, masti se kaam hai, masti nighahon mein hai!”
But today, I speak of other Kishore Kumars….
It doesn’t matter that many of the films that Kishore Kumar wrote, produced, directed, even edited and most importantly composed not just the music but also some of the lyrics vanished as duds into the box office incinerator. (He found time to do this while singing around 3000 songs and acting in 100 films). Because the few that survived became indestructible testimonials to the fact that behind that no doubt adorable comic façade was a brilliant musician and a poet. Jhumroo (1961), which not he only produced and directed but also composed its stunning music. Many remember only the vintage Kishore “Main hoon jhum-jhum-jhum jhumroo”. But Kishore also composed the immortal “Koi hum dum na raha”, the lilting, carefree “Matwale hum, matwale tum” and that unforgettable number that always wafts as sweet and fresh as an evening breeze, “Thandi hawa, yeh chandini suhani.” 
These exquisite compositions are amazing for another reason - Kishoreda also wrote the lyrics for all these songs. And who can forget the sight of Kishore carrying little Amit (who acted as Kishoreda’s mute son in the film) on his shoulders as he sang to him,
Aa chalke tujhe main leke chaloon
Ek aise gagan ke tale
Jahan gum bhi na ho
Aaanson bhi na ho
Bas pyar hi pyar pale (Door Gagan ki Chaon Main - 1964)
I speak of these songs not only they are such an integral part of any tribute to Kishoreda but also because they showcase what to me is his most beautiful and often forgotten side – Kishore Kumar the poet who could write lines such as
“Aise main chal raha hoon
Pedon ki chaaon mein
Jaise koi sitara
Badal ki gaon mein.”

And the musician who could compose such ever sweet, evergreen melodies as Koi laut de mere beete hua dil, Bekarar dil tu gaye ja and Panthi hoon main us path ka, the last 2 songs from another of his more successful home productions - Door ka Rahi (1971). And most of all, these songs showcase a voice as sweet and true as a child’s laughter that sang some of the most wonderful songs, sometimes wistful, sometimes playful, sometimes filled with the melancholy but always filled with melody and enchantment, touching your heart the way no one could. Chota sa ghar hoga (Naukri 1954), Jeevan ke safar mein rahi (Munimji 1955) Dukhi man mere (Funtoosh 1956), Hum hai rahi pyra ke (Nau do gyarah, 1957), Gaata rehe mera dil (Guide, 1965), Woh shyam kuch ajeeb thi (Khamoshi 1969), Yeh dard bhara afsana (Shreeman Funtoosh 1965) and Kora kagaz tha yeh man mera (Aradhana 1969) to name only a few.

Many of these songs were composed by the one man who as far back as 1951, when most had dismissed Kishore as a voice “jis mein woh baat nahin”, recognized a potential that made Salil Chowdhury later admit, "To Dada Burman goes the credit for having spotted the spark in the boy so early. Each one of us composers otherwise underestimated the tremendous potential of Kishore”. A potential that Salil realized fully only 9 years after this “boy” had romped and whooped and pranced and yodeled for him (Aankhon mein tum) in Half Ticket (1962). When Kishoreda sang the classic Koi hota jis ko apna hum apna keh lete yaaron for Salil in Gulzar's Mere Apne.
But perhaps the man who really understood Kishore was R D Burman. Pancham and Kishore were kindred spirits, soul brothers and their coming together was a magical meeting that happens perhaps just once in a lifetime. In that same 1984 Filmfare interview, Pancham also said of Kishore that he was the best male singer the industry had. “He is flexible. He can sing a classical song better than any of the others. I know because I have worked with all of them. He can sing a funny song or a sad song; no one can beat him in versatility. He has never learnt music but his ability to grasp is the secret of his success.” Between 1970 and 1975, R. D. Burman – then at the dizzying height of his dazzling career – scored music for an astonishing 75 films of which at least 25 were Hindi cinema’s greatest hits, not just cinematically but also musically. From Kati Patang all the way through Amar Prem, Seeta Aur Geeta, Mere Jeevan saathi, Yaadon ki Baraat, Namak Haram to Aap ki Kasam, Sholay and Aandhi. And in almost every one of them, Pancham exploited every cache of honey, every sweet nook and cranny of Kishore’s voice to its fullest.  For every Jai Jai Shiv Shankar, he got Kishore to sing a Zindagee ke safar mein ( Aap Ki Kasam); for every Chala jata hoon (Mere Jeevan Saathi) that the man from Khandwa yodeled for him, he made him sing a Diye jalte hain (Namak Haraam); for every Ek Chatur Naar that he made Kishore prance through, he gave him a Kehna hai (Padosan); for every O saathi Chal (Seeta aur Geeta), there was a O maanjhee re (Khushboo), for every Yeh Shaam mastani, there was a Chingaree koi dhadke, for every Soocha na, hai re samjha na (Bombay to Goa), there was a Musafir hoon yaaron (Parichay); for every Aaya hoon main tujhko le jaaoonga (Manorajan), there was a Phir wohi raat hai raat hai pyaar ki (Ghar).
But perhaps the one song that demonstrates Kishoreda’s musical genius is “Tum Bin Jaaon Kahan”. R. D. Burman composed it for Pyar Ka Mausam in 1969 and scored two versions. One, picturised on the hero, Shashi Kapoor was sung by none other than the great Mohamed Rafi. And the other, picturised on the hero’s father, Bharat Bhushan was sung by Kishore. The measure of Kishoreda’s virtuosity is not only that his version – along with the film – became such an immortal hit that not many even know of the existence of Rafi’s version. But also that in this fact. As in all songs, between the verses there is a musical interlude. In Rafi’s version, it is a pretty enough piece played on the mandolin. But in Kishore’s version, he yodels it. And as he does, the interlude transforms, soaring and taking flight, painting the air with such poignant aching that the lyrics “Tum bin jaoon kahan” take on a new meaning. Till today, this yodeling interlude remains the most memorable part of a song that any discography of Kishore is in complete without.
And that is the final seal of Kishore’s incredible virtuosity – his yodeling. Not only that he yodelled so wonderfully that when his brother Anoop Kumar came home one day and heard yodeling in the house, he thought that somebody was playing the records that he had bought during a recent visit to Austria. Only to discover that it was Kishore who had learned how to yodel from Anoop's Austrian records! But that Kishore used the yodeling like an extension of his phenomenal voice, to convey everything from pain to passion. Which takes me a full circle to where I began this article…
The opening of Thandi hawa is a yodeling sequence, but “yodel” is a such bad label for what is the coolest, sweetest sound that seems to come out of nowhere, gentling echoing in the night sky, sprinkled with the most delicate, exquisite trickles of what must be moonlight rippling on water but is in fact the piano. And throughout the song, every now and then, this yodeling reappears, like a lovely gust of thandi hawa.
As that electric Kishore-Lata duet, Jai Jai Shiv Shankar (Aap ki Kasam 1974) ends with a fabulous folk rhythm piece and the sound of the dholaks build up to a crescendo, you can hear Kishoreda’s delighted voice shouting, “Bajao, bajao! Imandari se bajao!” (Play, play, play with honesty!) And that just about sums up what makes Kishore Kumar’s music – as a singer, music director and lyricist – so indescribably beautiful. It is because he never told a single musical lie. Every note was sung or written with honesty, ringing pure and true and clear without the faintest artifice. He made music as a child would - straight from the heart, with unbridled joy and delight. And such music can go to only one place. Our hearts. 
If Truth ever starred in a film, it would choose Kishore Kumar - as playback singer, music director and lyricist.
Har dil ke pyar hum
Sabki bahar hum
Humko bahaaronse kya
Sabse naina mila-mila ke
Dilki kaliyan khila-khila ke
Chalte chale leherake hum
Matwale hum, matwale tum….

The Rains finally came….Oh Joy!

……decking the hibiscus buds with diamond ear-drop, while up above the coconut palm fronds whirled in ecstatic, dervish-whirls…

…and the sun decided to come in, putting its feet up in a golden bowl….

….and invited in a lonely jasmine to spend a quiet evening, cuddling…

Sunday Browser

Do marigolds have blues too?

And do bougainvilleas, bored with being flowers moonlight as stars?

Rain in Pictures

 

The parijata drips white-red scented rain…drip. drip, drip

The earth, kissed by the parijata rain, cracks in ecstasy

And later, the sun comes out….of a coconut shell!

But the sun can't stay long because night is ready to fall...gently plop-plop-plopping into the dew-kissed, rain-bejewelled hair of the Raat-ki-Rani...

Bejewelled Studs

(Or Six Reasons Why Men Should Wear Jewellery)
Let me make it very clear.
I’m talking about serious jewellery. Not the odd, namby-pamby cufflink or the neither-here-nor-there tie pin, nor wussy stainless steel or tungsten. I’m talking about rings and earrings and pendants and bracelets and necklaces, maybe even a choker. I’m talking about gold and diamonds; emeralds and sapphires and rubies, perhaps even a sprinkling of pearls. In other words, I’m talking about glittery, shiny stuff that can hold its own in Jacob the Jeweller’s show window.
I know. You’re worried. That you’ll end up looking like Pappu-Pager-meets-Elton-John. Well, you just might. But a chap’s got to start somewhere, doesn’t he? Also, look what they told you about pink and paisleys and lace and mascara and high heels and waxing and moisturisers. And you listened and look where it got you. Are you dating Kareena? Or nudging Johnny Depp off the Sexiest Man Alive list? Or having swarms of hysterical female fans tearing off their panties and throwing them at you?
Don’t answer – I know.
So, without any further ado, here’s Reason Number One.
You see, not so long ago, jewellery was a man thing. And much like the number of wives/concubines/eunuchs in his harem, the amount of jewellery on his person signalled power and wealth and exactly how high up his perch was in the pecking order and how many milch cows there will be in his daughter’s dowry. Naturally, size, as it always has, mattered. So if the diamond on your pinky (not what you are thinking) wasn’t large enough to blind at fifty feet, you just weren’t man enough.

Now, my dear departed maternal grandpappa – who I never knew because he departed when my mum was a little girl - was apparently very partial to his jewellery. And among the many gee-gaws that he favoured was a thick gold chain that he wore not around his neck but around his rather substantial middle.
You’re thinking – as I did – how odd. Actually it wasn’t because this was the era Before Jockey, when the male undergarment of choice was the langoti. (There’s no need to snigger because I’ll have you know that the langoti is the grandpappa and grandmamma of both the thong and the g-string and may have even inspired the jockstrap.) Now by itself, the langoti doesn’t amount to much - just a plain little strip of cloth, mostly of cotton. But what did matter was what held that little strip in place. So, if you were a man of means – as my grandfather obviously was - then nothing less than a gold chain would do!
What I mean to say is – you may be cute as a button and have a butt gorgeous enough to make it snow in the Sahara. But, the fact is, even more than chocolate and shopping, we girls like men with money. So, if you are one, we’re not going to mention the uncanny resemblance to Shrek. Or the rotting-socks breath. And there’s nothing like the sight of a gold langoti string snaking across a fella’s love handles to tell us the size of him um, net worth….

Reason Number Two
Men were meant to wear jewellery as much as ice was meant to melt and armpits to stink. Why else would the word “stud”, meaning “a button-like earring mounted on a slender post, as of gold or steel, for wearing in a pierced earlobe” also mean “a man regarded as notably virile and sexually active”?

Reason Number Three
The next time there’s talk about your family jewels, it won’t be just an anatomical reference.

Reason Number Four
Men with spunk are a big turn-on. Almost as much as men with money
And anyone can be Brady Barr, looking for a 12-foot reticulated python in waist-deep guano inside a bat cave. Or ride 1800 pounds of snorting, twisting, kicking, bucking bull that’s determined trample your brains into the dust. But, if you’re not Bappi Lahiri, then it takes guts to wear pink diamonds. And not have snickering eyebrows raised about your er, metrosexuality.

Reason Number Five
It takes the stress out of putting together a dowry that will knock your socks off.
Think about it. After the 40-inch plasma TV’s in the 7 maids’ loos, the amethyst bathtub with 24-karat gold-plated legs and matching toilet-paper dispenser in yours; after the down payment on the South American private island with self-contained rain forest, the Swarokski-crystal studded dhokla steamer, the 24-carat diamond belly buttons for the 24 Egyptian belly dancers at the mehendi ceremony, the 116-page silver-plated-written-by-Arundhati Roy-‘n-Salman Rushdie invitation card, what’s left for a girl’s pa to buy you?
Unless you are a man who considers diamonds, not dogs as his best friend.
In which case, the first thing you might want to pencil into your must-have-or-I’ll-burn-the-silly-fat-cow list is the latest rage - Elvis-the-Pelvis (what else) langoti strings. A single strand of diamond solitaires ending in a darling little diamond clasp that simply says, “TCB”. Which as Elvis would’ve explained, expands to “Taking Care of Business”. And exactly what langoti strings are meant to do.

And finally, Reason Number Six
There is only that much of a chance that wearing jewellery will make you look Brad Pitt, David Beckham, Michael Jordan, Salman Khan, Johnny Depp, Matthew McConaughey or Jamie Foxx. All gents who’ve routinely sported trinkets and made them look more male than a testosterone-painted Harley Davidson.
As much as it will rain spinach soup tomorrow
But don’t lose hope just as yet...
You’d think that a man on the wrong side of fifty-six (and looks it) who self-destructed his once-glittering acting career and ended up as a bouncer in a transvestite club in Hollywood Boulevard (and looks like it), would stay clear of shiny sharkskin suits. And sequinned scarves. And metallic orange shoes that match hiswaistcoat.
Even if he has just been nominated for every Best Actor award from BAFTA to the Oscars.
And you’d think he wouldn’t turn up on Oscars’ night in a gold tooth, several glittery gold necklaces and a gold pinkie ring that could easily double up as the Rock of Gibraltar.
But Mickey Rourke did.
And?
You know that button we were talking about earlier? Well, Mr. Rourke is cuter than any button Benjamin’s pa ever made. In fact, as far as I am concerned, he’s a great, big, gorgeous stud.
So, move over Brad Pitt, David Beckham, Michael Jordan, Salman Khan, Johnny Depp, Matthew McConaughey, Jamie Foxx
And bring on the bling….