Reality Bites

http://www.thedailybeast.com/articles/2013/04/25/why-is-it-so-hard-to-be-a-reality-tv-host.html

Apropos the above.

The Kardashians are possibly the signal on the hill that there are no more hills to climb and we are, in fact, in the last trough of civilisation. It's all downhill from here on in. Good-looking broads with a fabulous fashion sense, I'll give them that, but are they going to rock my world on this alone? I think not. I'll leave that to Jo Nesbo, thank you very much.

So really, Khloe had to go. (How I wish the rest of the family would follow, but one out of dozens ain't....yeah, it is.)

But talking of TV hosts. I've said it before and I'll say it again, no one does it like Seacrest. He's funny, empathetic, cute and APPEARS to not take himself too seriously (although I think he takes his hair more seriously than I do mine, to begin with). He makes it all look effortless and that's the X Factor which puts him on top of the heap. When we're watching a reality show, we want to be relaxed; we want to have as much fun as the host should be having.

But I have to say, although I like Cat Deeley, I liked Steve Jones, too. He's not the Ice Queen aka Padma Lakshmi, or the too-earnest Davina McCall, or Carson Daly who has everyone watching his mouth and not the words coming out of it. Why they got rid of Steve who is also extremely easy on the eye is beyond me.

Other toppers, strangely all in the realm of food:

*Man v Food host Adam Richman, for his mot justes and love of the bite

*Anthony Bourdain for his cynicism and brave foray into culinary unknowns

*Nigella Lawson for her deliberate play on the sensual aspects of cuisine

*Masterchef dudes in Australia and US for their sense of theatre and straightforward passion for the subject.

Of course, in India meanwhile, we have Twist of Taste with Vineet Bhatia.

I like it Chubby, this once

There was something comforting about it as I passed by; like a fragrant cherry pie cooling on a windowsill. The colours came close, too, watermelon, raspberry, orange sherbet. So I gave in to my need for a metaphorical pat on the head and bought the Broadest Berry lip balm from Clinique - which is rapidly becoming one of my favourite beauty companies. Their Happy fragrance is like a shot of adrenaline straight to the heart and their concealers and foundations seem to have a close resemblance to one's actual skin tone, but it's the Chubby Stick that drew my eye. It's moist and dewy, has no distracting fragrance and has an amazing built-in sharpener so no worrying about searching for one that fits the unusual contours of the product. How clever is that. What's not so clever is Clinique's unfortunate packaging. Blah. And their technicians in lab coats that sit at the stores. If I wanted to be wheeled away in a straitjacket I'd come here but not when I'm thinking in terms of Beauty. How many millions in ad money went down the tubes paying the marketing non-geniuses who came up with THAT strategy? Well, never let it be said that I don't have an open mind. Which is why I'm thinking of snaffling the Watermelon next.

Boston and after

How simple the world once was. We could say America was the perfect place to live in, that Indians understood empathy best, that money was the root of all evil and, alas, that Gerard Butler was a gentleman. Don't get me started on that last one. But after Boston and the Delhi rape of a 5-yr-old, all bets on black-and-white generalizations are off.

I'm sorry to say that my first reaction to Boston was complete and utter admiration on the lines of 'Man, these yankees are kick-ass mofos'. Do Americans know what it's like to live in a country where the police, by and large, actually protect you? I'm sure they take it as much for granted as having electricity and water without interruption. The US authorities shut down a city, used thermal imaging, literally laid down their lives, to deal with terror on their soil. These are the type of guys you want on your side; they understand the need for swift justice, and still talk of Miranda rights. In the American's hour of darkness, there is a still a light that shines on them. In India, the police will shine their fists on you if you are a teenage girl protesting the rape and brutalisation of a minor. Sunil Khilnani and I knew many moons ago that this a country where you are on your own in times of trouble. The only number you dial when you need help is God's. Just ask the 5-yr-old if he's listening.

But what has happened to India that we are now not only Third World in terms of lifestyle but also mindstyle? Once, when we lay bleeding in the street we knew someone would help us to a hospital; if a man looked at a woman sideways she could make such a ruckus he would never dare do it to anyone ever again. Today, people watch, perhaps upload a YouTube video. Indifference lives side-by-side with a MeMeMe blinkered vision.

Not that America is the promised land, it was never that. It was once the better of very few options but if you're not white, this would not be a preferred destination. I can just imagine, as we speak, people doing a doubletake at anyone who looks Chechen/Czechoslovakian/Indian/MiddleEastern and is walking down the streets of Boston. Ignorance should not be a preferred destination. But I wouldn't mind John McClane living in my neighbourhood.

Oh, and in case you were wondering, money is not the root of all evil (unless you're Paris Hilton and don't know what to do with it). Money is Power.

Laugh for the day

Maggie Smith bemoaning a trip to India in Best Exotic Marigold Hotel - "You know who'll be there, don't you? Indians. Brown of face, black of heart and reeking of curry." 

In a galaxy far, far away...

Hong Kong blew my mind. Just returned after 9 glorious days during which I visited my old school and enjoyed the fundamental rights to ordinary life like paved roads, public transport and HBO movies with no ads. HBO movies with no ads? What are you saying? What are these words coming out of your mouth? In India, we can make dinner during commercial breaks.
Saw American Idol which I can't this side of the civilizational divide because it's on CBS Love, a channel Tata Sky will not deign to include in its packages. And I have to say, Nicki Minaj's nasal voice and diva performances on the judge's chair may just put the final nail in AI's coffin. The likely winner is Cree (and Keith Urban who's beyond cute in looks and persona) but I don't know that anyone cares.
Life, as everyone experiences first-hand, is not fair. While Bangalore is grappling with power cuts in literally breathtaking heat, in HK just taking a bus is an exercise in luxury travel. Yes, it's air-conditioned, too. If you're not in the mood to wait for the four minutes in between buses, take the metro why don't you, where they wisely have partitions in between the train and you. You can kill yourself in the subway in New York and London but the Chinese frown on such shenanigans.
The city is a dreamscape of towering buildings and the most serene neighbourhoods, or both at the same time; you'll find a Central Park lookalike where a turtle will bask on a rock in a pond overseen by the Koala buildings (an Aussie architect designed a complex to look like the bear is hugging the building, say no more).
Both a Faberge and Warhol exhibition are on as we speak, (there are locals there, not just tourists!), food is sublime and fashion as easy as grabbing a striped tunic off a street stall.
Right now, I'm checking Cathay Pacific schedules again like a secret addiction.