Where's the party tonight?

And do you know how to work it?

It was a famous silken-tongued Hindi film lyricist, who shall remain nameless, who first called me out on it. We were both at a party held on the manicured lawns of a ministerial bungalow in Lutyens’ Delhi. I was being held hostage by the most boring poseur ever and could not for the life of me figure out a way to extricate myself from the most mind-numbing conversation ever. But just when I was giving up on the evening in despair, my lyricist friend joined us. He said a few words, witty as ever, and then steered me off in the direction of another group.

“You really don’t know to work a party, do you?” he said pityingly. I nodded sadly in affirmation. “Let me tell you how this works,” he said firmly, “you spend 10 to 15 minutes with one person and then go on to the next. No lurking about, no casting helpless glances at your friends telegraphing for help, none of that nonsense. Just say, ‘It was nice meeting you,’ and move on.”

Well, it’s all very well for him, I thought darkly. But this sort of thing is easier said than done. And sure enough, at the next big party I attended, I found myself in the same fix. Stuck with the biggest bore in the room, and with no escape in sight. Let me tell you, it’s not easy to spin out the ‘It was nice meeting you’ line to someone who never pauses to draw breath as he witters on and on and on.

So yes, it is a truth that I have come to terms with. I really do not know how to work a party. I either spend the evening tucked away in a corner with my core group of friends, having a good laugh or two; or I end up stuck with someone who has reached his anecdotage and is not afraid to inflict it upon anyone that will listen. And sadly, more often than not, that turns out to be me.

Which is why I have nothing but pure admiration for those intrepid souls who think nothing of walking up to the guest of honour – film star, Nobel prize winner, celebrity author, head of state, rock musician, take your pick – and engaging them in witty banter. Though my lip does tend to curl a bit when they do not know when to back off and allow other people to bask in that reflected limelight. And I am always reminded of what Prince Charles once said about why he hates going to parties. It’s always the pushy, obnoxious people who come up and try to make conversation, he lamented. The decent ones are too shy and leery about pushing themselves forward. As a result, he never meets the kind of people he would like to. (Me neither, Your Royal Highness, me neither!)

But there are some people, like my lyricist friend, who know just how to get the most out of the party. They hit the ground running, heading straight for the host and telling him or her how fabulous the party looks. Niceties done with, they scan the room for the guest of honour. They go up and introduce themselves if there is nobody around to perform that office. They engage him in conversation about himself (a quick Google search on a smartphone on the way to the party is much recommended) for five to six minutes. Then, before the queue forming up behind them gets too disorderly, they say their goodbyes and move on.

Then, it’s one to the buzziest group of people, the A-listers who are much in demand. They hang around the sidelines, listening to the latest gossip, laughing at all the right moments, and soaking in the atmosphere. They know it is not necessary to say very much at this point. It’s enough to be seen in the right company.

Ten to 15 minutes of this and it is time to move on. This time it is to the fringes, to all those B-listers who are dying to be told what the A-listers were talking about. This is the time to get chatty, to give ‘paisa vasool’ as we say in these parts, relaying all those tasty tit-bits they’ve hoovered up so far.

If this is a game you want to excel it, remember some salient rules.

One, never spend more than 15 minutes with any one person or group. But while you are with them, give them your full attention. Don’t look over their shoulders to see if anyone more interesting is hoving into view. That’s just plain rude.

Two, if you want people to think of you as a brilliant conversationalist, then for God’s sake, don’t talk too much. Ask questions instead. And then listen to the answers as if you actually care. Ask a few follow-ups to show how interested you are. There’s nothing people like more than talking about themselves. Give them a chance to do so, and you won’t have to do very much at all.

Three, don’t drink yourself silly. Keep a drink in your hand, because if you don’t you will spend the entire evening explaining why you are not drinking, yaar! Take a few sips because otherwise you may not get through the evening. Abandon it on a surface half-drunk and move on. A waiter will sidle up to hand you another. Rinse and repeat. And leave sober.

Now, that’s how you work a party. As for me, I will be sitting at home, ensconced on my sofa, watching a DVD box-set and eating dinner off a tray. Try not to be too envious.

Bare truths

Why is it okay for Lena Dunham to go topless; but Miley Cyrus is a slut for showing her breasts?

Do you understand the new feminist take on female nudity? No, me neither. Let’s start with breasts. It seems that the world is divided into Good Breasts and Bad Breasts, depending on who is revealing them, and why. So, when Lena Dunham, the star of Girls, drops her top at the slightest pretext to show off her bosom, it is supposed to be A Good Thing. But when Miley Cyrus takes off her top to writhe around a Wrecking Ball in a video by the same name, that is A Very Bad Thing indeed.

Now, how exactly does this work?

The sub-text, insofar as I can glean it, is this. If a woman who is judged unattractive by the cookie-cutter standards of the glamour industry, bares her breasts, then she is striking a blow against the standards of the beauty business. She is showing that she does not subscribe to the normal perceptions of beauty or sex appeal. That she has the self-confidence to show off her own body, even though it doesn’t meet the standards set out by the Sex-Appeal Police. And in doing so, she is giving hope and courage to other less-than-perfectly-proportioned women like herself. So, that’s Lena Dunham sorted then.

But Miley Cyrus? No, no, no. A young and pretty girl like her has no business stripping off for a music video. If she does so, she is just falling into the trap set by the music industry and commodifying herself for commercial purposes (and we have everyone from Sinead O’Conner to Annie Lennox lining up to tell her that). This kind of behaviour makes her no better than a stripper or even a prostitute. So, if she wants to retain the respect of the world, she really needs to put them away – and sharpish.

Not that it’s just about Pretty Breasts vs Ugly Breasts and the mile-long cleavage between them. It’s also about what I like to call Fashion Breasts, which are perfectly fine viewing in expensive glossy magazines, and Porno Breasts, that are meant to titillate men who flip over anxiously to Page three. Again, Fashion Breasts are good: they are an aesthetic appreciation of the female form. But Porno Breasts are bad: they demean women everywhere (hence the feminist protest against the Page Three girls of The Sun).

Well, I am sorry if I am being dense, but this makes absolutely no sense to me. Are we really going to judge female nudity on the basis of what feelings it brings forth in others? Is male arousal, or the lack of it, going to be the benchmark by which we decide which woman is allowed to go topless and which one isn’t? Are feminist values now going to be decided on the basis of the Male Gaze?

And then, there is that little thing called the ‘Slut Walk’ that rears its politically-correct head every now and then. I am sure you have heard of it. Maybe you’ve even participated in a few. And no doubt, you have your own ideas about it. Well, I have been grappling with the concept, so allow me to share with you what I have gathered so far.

Mini-skirts, bikini tops, spaghetti straps, bum cleavage, breast cleavage is all good so long as it is being revealed by women who are participating in something called a ‘Slut Walk’. This is – stay with me here – good because women are demonstrating that they are entitled to dress any way they like without being judged for it. They are, they argue, reclaiming the word ‘slut’ for themselves. And in the process, they are shaming the men who tell them that they get objectified, harassed or raped because of what they are wearing.

So far, so good. I can get on board with the broad sentiment though ten hours of sustained water-boarding couldn’t get me to ‘reclaim’ that nasty word (slut) for myself. But hey, ladies, if that’s what rings your bell, knock yourselves out.

But once you’ve gone on the mandatory Slut Walk, and stood up for your right to wear sexy clothes, stop complaining when scantily-clad women are used as sexual bait to sell everything from ice-cream to motorbikes. If you can dress that way to make a point, these women can dress like that to make a living. (And no, nobody is pointing a gun at their heads; they are doing so of their own free will.)

We cannot live in a world where it is okay for women to bare their breasts so long as they remember to do it in a politically-correct and feminist-approved manner. If a woman can revel in her sexuality on a Slut Walk, she can do so on the floor of an ad film as well. You can’t celebrate the one and pour opprobrium on the other.

If we are going to make any sense of feminism, we need to be clear on our principles. If we believe that every woman has the right to walk down half-naked on the street – as they do on their Slut Walks – without the fear of being molested or harassed, then we cannot take away the right of other women to bare these breasts on Page 3 if they choose to do so of their own free will. If we applaud Lena Denham for baring her breasts on her TV series, then we can’t shame Miley for doing the same in her music videos. The principle can’t change on the basis of whom it applies to; or it isn’t much of a principle at all.

The clock is ticking...

Will Anil Kapoor’s 24 change the landscape of Indian television?

Like much of the world, I was addicted to 24. And like any fully paid-up addict, I would stock up on the good stuff, shut the door on the rest of the world, and mainline. Because I came to it rather late, I could swallow seasons one, two and three in one greedy gulp. Staying up till four in the morning, trying to squeeze just one more episode in, before the rising sun shamed me into going to bed, became a regular feature. And when my stock of old episodes ended and I had to wait for the new season, I suffered serious withdrawal symptoms.

Yes, as you've probably gathered by now, 24 was addictive. The central conceit of the series was that it chronicled 24 hours of a national security crisis in real time. Keifer Sutherland played the main character, Jack Bauer, as a superhero without the cape (and no visible underwear either, thank God!) maiming, torturing, blowing things up, and then torturing some more, to get to the bottom of some diabolical terrorist plot. The storyline tested the limits of our credulity, the stunts were sometimes plain unbelievable, and the twists and turns of the plot often bordered on the ludicrous. But the series was tightly scripted, fast paced, and things went by in such a blur that you didn't even notice the glaring holes in the plot - until much later, in bed, when you were running through the best moments in your head.

Looking back now, 24 was prescient in many ways. In giving us a Black candidate in the guise of the future President David Palmer in 2001, it eerily foreshadowed the election of Barack Obama in 2009. Its brutal rendering of the torture of terror suspects was an early hint of the Abu Ghraib-style security scandals to come. And who knows, the female US President Allison Taylor who premiered in 24 Redemption in 2008 and then starred in seasons 7 and 8, may well be a nod to the election of Hillary Clinton (the Democratic frontrunner for the 2016 polls) as the first woman President of the United States.

But watching all those endless episodes, perched at the edge of my seat, I was never prescient enough to think that I would soon see an Indian version of the series. No, not even when an Indian actor, Anil Kapoor, played an important role in the last and final season, starring as the ill-fated President Omar Hassan of the fictional Islamic Republic of Kamistan (modeled on Iran) who is assassinated by the bad guys – but not before putting in some good old-fashioned action hero stuff in the company of Bauer.

His messy end in the series notwithstanding, Anil Kapoor knew that he was on to a good thing. And after endless negotiations he bought the rights to make the Indian version of the show, with Kapoor himself playing the Jack Bauer role. In some ways, of course, Kapoor is uniquely qualified to play the superhero, or more accurately, the super anti-hero. His Mr India, released in 1987, brought the legend of the Invisible Superhero to us a full decade before JK Rowling wrote about the Invisibility Cloak in the first Harry Potter book in 1997. (Yes, yes, I know, H.G. Wells wrote The Invisible Man a century ago in 1897; we can play this game endlessly.)

As of this writing, the first two episodes of the Indian 24 have been aired on Colors. And I have to admit that my initial reservations about how this would work have been belied. The storyline is strong, the characters are well defined, the pace is fast, the action well choreographed, and bar a few, the performances are strong. Even the so-called Indianisation works. Instead of Presidential hopeful David Palmer we have a putative Prime Minister from a political dynasty that appears to be loosely based on the Gandhis.

So, will 24 be a game changer as far as Indian television is concerned? Will our TV production companies finally move away from their Saas-bahu Sagas and their Mangalsutra Melodramas, and give us quality television of the like that the West enjoys?

Well, frankly, it is too early to tell if there will be a substantive change in the Indian television landscape. Shows like 24 cost money, they need good writers, talented directors, committed producers, and a top-quality star cast to work. And so far, at least, Indian TV shows no signs of being able afford any of the above. So, I don't really see things changing very much in the short term.

What will change, I think, is Bollywood's attitude to television. Until now, Indian film stars have treated television fiction shows with a certain disdain. Everyone from Amitabh Bachchan to Salman Khan to Shah Rukh Khan is happy to play quizmaster to the nation. Stars like Madhuri Dixit, Hrithik Roshan are happy to turn up to judge singing and dancing competitions. And the likes of Karan Johar delight in hosting their own talk shows.

But TV series? That seems to be strict no-no (unless, of course, if you are a no-hoper like Vinod Khanna). This is in sharp contrast to the West where everyone from Glen Close (Damages) to Martin Sheen (West Wing) to Kate Winslet (Mildred Pierce) to Ashton Kutcher (Two And A Half Men) is happy to transition from the movies to TV (and back again). But rare is the film star in India who is willing to play a role in a TV drama.

That may well be changing though. Even before 24 aired, Amitabh Bachchan announced that he would be starring in a TV series directed by Anurag Kashyap on Sony. And where the great man goes, the rest are sure to follow.

The clock is ticking...

Will Anil Kapoor’s 24 change the landscape of Indian television?

Like much of the world, I was addicted to 24. And like any fully paid-up addict, I would stock up on the good stuff, shut the door on the rest of the world, and mainline. Because I came to it rather late, I could swallow seasons one, two and three in one greedy gulp. Staying up till four in the morning, trying to squeeze just one more episode in, before the rising sun shamed me into going to bed, became a regular feature. And when my stock of old episodes ended and I had to wait for the new season, I suffered serious withdrawal symptoms.

Yes, as you've probably gathered by now, 24 was addictive. The central conceit of the series was that it chronicled 24 hours of a national security crisis in real time. Keifer Sutherland played the main character, Jack Bauer, as a superhero without the cape (and no visible underwear either, thank God!) maiming, torturing, blowing things up, and then torturing some more, to get to the bottom of some diabolical terrorist plot. The storyline tested the limits of our credulity, the stunts were sometimes plain unbelievable, and the twists and turns of the plot often bordered on the ludicrous. But the series was tightly scripted, fast paced, and things went by in such a blur that you didn't even notice the glaring holes in the plot - until much later, in bed, when you were running through the best moments in your head.

Looking back now, 24 was prescient in many ways. In giving us a Black candidate in the guise of the future President David Palmer in 2001, it eerily foreshadowed the election of Barack Obama in 2009. Its brutal rendering of the torture of terror suspects was an early hint of the Abu Ghraib-style security scandals to come. And who knows, the female US President Allison Taylor who premiered in 24 Redemption in 2008 and then starred in seasons 7 and 8, may well be a nod to the election of Hillary Clinton (the Democratic frontrunner for the 2016 polls) as the first woman President of the United States.

But watching all those endless episodes, perched at the edge of my seat, I was never prescient enough to think that I would soon see an Indian version of the series. No, not even when an Indian actor, Anil Kapoor, played an important role in the last and final season, starring as the ill-fated President Omar Hassan of the fictional Islamic Republic of Kamistan (modeled on Iran) who is assassinated by the bad guys – but not before putting in some good old-fashioned action hero stuff in the company of Bauer.

His messy end in the series notwithstanding, Anil Kapoor knew that he was on to a good thing. And after endless negotiations he bought the rights to make the Indian version of the show, with Kapoor himself playing the Jack Bauer role. In some ways, of course, Kapoor is uniquely qualified to play the superhero, or more accurately, the super anti-hero. His Mr India, released in 1987, brought the legend of the Invisible Superhero to us a full decade before JK Rowling wrote about the Invisibility Cloak in the first Harry Potter book in 1997. (Yes, yes, I know, H.G. Wells wrote The Invisible Man a century ago in 1897; we can play this game endlessly.)

As of this writing, the first two episodes of the Indian 24 have been aired on Colors. And I have to admit that my initial reservations about how this would work have been belied. The storyline is strong, the characters are well defined, the pace is fast, the action well choreographed, and bar a few, the performances are strong. Even the so-called Indianisation works. Instead of Presidential hopeful David Palmer we have a putative Prime Minister from a political dynasty that appears to be loosely based on the Gandhis.

So, will 24 be a game changer as far as Indian television is concerned? Will our TV production companies finally move away from their Saas-bahu Sagas and their Mangalsutra Melodramas, and give us quality television of the like that the West enjoys?

Well, frankly, it is too early to tell if there will be a substantive change in the Indian television landscape. Shows like 24 cost money, they need good writers, talented directors, committed producers, and a top-quality star cast to work. And so far, at least, Indian TV shows no signs of being able afford any of the above. So, I don't really see things changing very much in the short term.

What will change, I think, is Bollywood's attitude to television. Until now, Indian film stars have treated television fiction shows with a certain disdain. Everyone from Amitabh Bachchan to Salman Khan to Shah Rukh Khan is happy to play quizmaster to the nation. Stars like Madhuri Dixit, Hrithik Roshan are happy to turn up to judge singing and dancing competitions. And the likes of Karan Johar delight in hosting their own talk shows.

But TV series? That seems to be strict no-no (unless, of course, if you are a no-hoper like Vinod Khanna). This is in sharp contrast to the West where everyone from Glen Close (Damages) to Martin Sheen (West Wing) to Kate Winslet (Mildred Pierce) to Ashton Kutcher (Two And A Half Men) is happy to transition from the movies to TV (and back again). But rare is the film star in India who is willing to play a role in a TV drama.

That may well be changing though. Even before 24 aired, Amitabh Bachchan announced that he would be starring in a TV series directed by Anurag Kashyap on Sony. And where the great man goes, the rest are sure to follow.