Seasons
Rina fumbled with her writing pad in her corner seat next to the satin-festooned ramp, trying to look invisible and confident by turns.
Dim chandelier lights, orchids, wall length mirrors, the chatterati in swishing silks and suits. Perfect for the Lkme fashion curtain raiser. But she’d rather be covering commodities; her usual beat, watching zinc burn up the bourses.
“ Oh did you really tell him that?” said an amused voice from the seat behind her. “Fuchsia is soo garish this year, specially ruffles. You told Arjun?”
“ Yes, pink is quite the new black. I told him to reconsider. After all, the Dalal name would forever be linked with such people. Whoever heard of such a thing.” a clipped accent replied.
“ Nouveau rich. Such poor taste. Imagine giving your interest the family jewellery to flaunt. Everyone has an interest or two, all right, but to give away heirlooms… how silly… “
“I told Arjun to watch out. Not quite our level. Or sensible.”
“So that Petro thing is off? That girl’s way too lean for this halter top.“
“He’ll do as I say. Old money knows the smell of cash. That’s what he says.”
“Really? I can’t believe you just said that. Terrible, isn’t it? ”
“ Why? What’s wrong with that? Just a few signatures on paper. Hemant’s showing this afternoon.”
“ Maybe I’ll go to the Galleria one. All the headlines, the news conferences, soundbytes?”
“ So what! It’s only a cross- border document. Even if the PM witnessed it.”
“ Rather unusual, I know. Seemed like such a smart deal. But under the circumstances, maybe.
Next morning the newspaper featured a headline: “Dalal to end $10 bill Petrochemical deal.”
Monday, August 13, 2007
Monday, August 06, 2007
Riyaaz*
Sunanda Ali Khan grimaced as her first born valiantly attacked the scales, notes of the sargam.
Jal, or Jallaluddin, second grader at River High as also thetwenty-fifth direct descendent of a navratna at Emperor Akbar's 16thcentury court, was attempting to learn classical music.
Outside, the environs of 17 Cedar Drive, Hill Slope, NJ wereblissfully quiet. As quiet as they can be on a weekday winterafternoon with just the sound of tyres swishing on the distanthighway.
Sunanda shut her eyes and tried to count to hundred with each mis-sungwarble. She tried to focus on the sweet base notes of the harmoniumand block the protests of her labrador, Raja, whom she'd banishedoutside.
A sound like a cat's warning screech arose from her son's vocalchords. Who could ever believe his illustrious lineage, the rewardsand the acclaim bestowed on his ancestor, honored with the privilegeof inaugurating the spring concert at the palace all those centuriesago?
"He'll get better with practice". She calmed herself.
"He'd better get better with practice". She mock- scolded herself.
It wasn't his fault really, it was the distance and this country.
Why, next year, they'd be returning to Allahabad, where the extendedAli-Khan family lived in a rambling mansion. Where even a newborncried in the right pitch and tone. It was in the blood, the lineage,the old women of the family sagely said.
Where Jal better sing if he were to fit in.
Hence these afternoon sessions, these wrestling bouts with pitch andtone, with notes sounding like colliding planets or demonic bat screeches.
~
Mr Smith groaned. Trust the neighbor's cat to keep him from some welldeserved rest on a day when he'd called in sick. What a cacophony! Heshould never have moved into this neighborhood. He turned and tried to sleep.
But no! There was no warning hiss between cries. He knew cats. He knew cats and screechy territory battles over back alleys and fire escapes.But this sounded different. He listened for a while, Sounded quitehuman, now that you thought about it. Almost like a cry for help. Acascading plea for help.
The main door was open, a labrador was growling and the cries seemedmore insistent when he hurried over to check.
Let the authorities handle this, he decided, and dialed 911.
(*riyaaz- practice)
Sunanda Ali Khan grimaced as her first born valiantly attacked the scales, notes of the sargam.
Jal, or Jallaluddin, second grader at River High as also thetwenty-fifth direct descendent of a navratna at Emperor Akbar's 16thcentury court, was attempting to learn classical music.
Outside, the environs of 17 Cedar Drive, Hill Slope, NJ wereblissfully quiet. As quiet as they can be on a weekday winterafternoon with just the sound of tyres swishing on the distanthighway.
Sunanda shut her eyes and tried to count to hundred with each mis-sungwarble. She tried to focus on the sweet base notes of the harmoniumand block the protests of her labrador, Raja, whom she'd banishedoutside.
A sound like a cat's warning screech arose from her son's vocalchords. Who could ever believe his illustrious lineage, the rewardsand the acclaim bestowed on his ancestor, honored with the privilegeof inaugurating the spring concert at the palace all those centuriesago?
"He'll get better with practice". She calmed herself.
"He'd better get better with practice". She mock- scolded herself.
It wasn't his fault really, it was the distance and this country.
Why, next year, they'd be returning to Allahabad, where the extendedAli-Khan family lived in a rambling mansion. Where even a newborncried in the right pitch and tone. It was in the blood, the lineage,the old women of the family sagely said.
Where Jal better sing if he were to fit in.
Hence these afternoon sessions, these wrestling bouts with pitch andtone, with notes sounding like colliding planets or demonic bat screeches.
~
Mr Smith groaned. Trust the neighbor's cat to keep him from some welldeserved rest on a day when he'd called in sick. What a cacophony! Heshould never have moved into this neighborhood. He turned and tried to sleep.
But no! There was no warning hiss between cries. He knew cats. He knew cats and screechy territory battles over back alleys and fire escapes.But this sounded different. He listened for a while, Sounded quitehuman, now that you thought about it. Almost like a cry for help. Acascading plea for help.
The main door was open, a labrador was growling and the cries seemedmore insistent when he hurried over to check.
Let the authorities handle this, he decided, and dialed 911.
(*riyaaz- practice)
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