New pad, new nook

Lauren Bacall, 89

There you go. A dame in every sense of the word, with a beauty that was timeless and a class that was unparalleled. I don't think there is another actress one can name who had what she had. Not Marilyn who was sweaty sex personified with a stunning face that was manufactured, not  Liz Taylor who somehow seemed virginal despite all the husbands and overflowing with an abundance of talent, not Salma Hayek who's the epitome of pocket Venus but doesn't spark off homage, not Scarlett Johansson who is come-hither but doesn't pull you, undeniably great though she may be as a singer, in theatre and the movies. None of them had that touch-me-not air combined with an earth-bound appeal you wanted to follow till the ends of the earth. She's gone beyond now, part of a new constellation with Paul Walker and Robin Williams. If I believed, I would say, God bless, but the sentiment remains.

A lingering music

The time has come when I read a name in breaking news and I'm thinking, no, not dead, not dead, and the next line is always “died at xx of xxx”.

When I recall Robin Williams I remember him in two things, both movies. One in Mrs Doubtfire when he says something snarky to Pierce Brosnan and I thought, Wow, that was real, no acting there. It wasn't the jealous husband he was playing at that moment, it was like he was looking at someone who had every physical advantage he did not, who was on top of that, a genuinely nice guy with no demons chasing his every waking hour. At least that's what I saw. Then in Good Will Hunting, where he plays a therapist but he's darker than his patient; again, real.

His manic but brilliant comic persona was disquieting, funny but it kept me at the edge of my seat and that's not the kind of thing you enjoy.

His problems with drugs and alcohol are well-documented and he, obviously, wanted an end to his particular suffering. That's a pain that no one, lover, friend, parent can know because each man's pain is uniquely his own. You ask, why would a man so venerated and talented, with a loving family, do such a thing? There is absolutely no answer to that question. People do what they feel compelled to do. In the dark, in the quiet, when you are alone with yourself, you may be overwhelmed by what you have become. It's something, often, that no one else can see.

Why did Tony Scott park his car, walk resolutely to that bridge and, in the chilling words of an eye-witness, jump into a river with no hesitation whatsoever? Why did Anderson Cooper's brother jump off a balcony in front of his mother? And these are famous people, not the unsung and unknown legions who have also found salvation in death.

I've always thought it's better to be dumb, self-deluded and religious-minded than grappling with existentialism. How simple life is, then. You wake in the morning thinking of manis and pedis, or the next corporate takeover where you, being naturally brilliant, will triumph, and then off you go to church every Sunday where you can sneak a look at your mistress in the pews. Simple.

For others, of course, not so much. 

I like knowing at least Robin Williams left a legacy, which is something very few of us can say. Who will ever forget Dead Poets Society and Good Morning,Vietnam? That's a lingering music that will only come to an end when the world does.

Yowza

Really, let's be honest: Can anything beat material possessions? Love, shmove; Job, yeah, right; Travel, not if it means flying. But this Versailles-inspired trinket box from Forever New? I think so.

Third World, and others

Moving house is as traumatic as kicking a useless boyfriend to the curb. In fact, if you're living in the third world, it's probably more emotionally agonising. You get sucked into renovation and hire plumbers who aren't plumbers, electricians who aren't electricians, tile-layers who wouldn't recognise an Anthangudi handcrafted beauty if it suddenly came to life and bit them in their collective, untutored asses.

I have never quite figured out how India survives. There are various techniques, sure, like for example, driving and switching on the left signal. Never, ever, then turn left. Oh, no. Wait for that one bozo who will try and overtake just to beat you to the turn. Where is he going in such a hurry, you wonder? Nowhere. It's just the way he is.

But this is just one of the few tricks you figure out, the rest is a mystery box to beat any on Masterchef. We survive by dumb luck more often than not.

Not the best of times to visit one of the most startling countries in the world: China. So efficient and effortlessly beautiful it made my heart hurt. I always knew democracy was overrated. If anyone has had the misfortune to visit Bangalore and travel on the ugliest metro ever built, you will understand my rage thinking of the money we wasted on things other than an engineer/architect worthy of the name. That, at least, we wouldn't have minded if we had then built a metro that looked like Dubai's.

Anyone who tells you India is a poor country, by the way, is either ignorant or a bullshit artist. What we are is a rich country that is completely mismanaged by a bunch of people who have never understood the concept of either shame or patriotism. They are much like most teenagers, clueless and living for the day. Vision-less. Indifferent to any other concerns but their own.

Here's a vision other than a teenager's: