Ship Ahoy!

It's a little boat, just 23 stories high,with a displacement of 104,000 tonnes, 1092 feet long and 252 feet wide; a speck in the vast Indian Ocean. It has enough weaponry to turn the Coast of Tamil Nadu to charcoal. Nicknamed "Old Salt", the "USS Nimitz"came to party ,and the party-poopers turned out in droves.

If The Asian Age of 6th July ‘07 is to be believed, the Prime Minister played safe, denying awareness of the visit …just in case someone accused an American sailor of kissing a South Indian actress …and to quote:-
[[‘I didn’t know Nimitz was to visit India’By Seema Mustafa
New Delhi, July 5: Prime Minister Manmohan Singh did not know that the USS Nimitz would be docking at Chennai port. "It was just an ordinary development, I was not even aware of it until I read about it in the newspapers. Too much should not be read into it," he said. US ambassador to India David C. Mulford had said that the USS Nimitz had come to Chennai for rest and recreation on the invitation of the Government of India, but the Prime Minister made it clear that he was not in the loop.]] End quote.

So what does it take to make the PM of this country aware that the biggest, and meanest warship in the world is wagging it's tail at his country’s doorstep?

What if the Captain of the Nimitz pooped out one teeny tiny missile in his direction?

PM: Huh! Wha…. Where did THAT come from?

AIDE: The USS Nimitz Sir

PM: Tell them not to disturb us, Soniaji and I are busy.

AIDE: The Captain says he is on a goodwill visit and requests an audience Sir.

PM: Well delay him, try to organise some protest or the other to see that the ship does not dock.

AIDE: How shall I do that Sir?

PM: Use your imagination, Soniaji and I cannot think of everything.

AIDE: How long should we delay the docking Sir?

PM: See that I am not distracted, this affair of selection of a new President elect is a very delicate matter.

AIDE: Ms. Jayalalithaa says her party can organise a protest, something to do with nuclear contamination from the ship Sir.

PM: Good woman that! Wasn’t she the one who got rid of that forest brigand Veerapan?

AIDE: Yes Sir.

PM: And wasn’t she also responsible for sacking all those Government employees who went on strike and made them write unconditional apology letters before reinstating them? A first for any administration in this country.

AIDE: Yes Sir.

PM: And didn’t she also arrest the Kanchi Acharya for abetting a murder - another first for this country if I recall?

AIDE: Yes Sir. She’s the one

PM: Then I guess SHE is the only one with the "cajones" who can stop this ship? Extend all co-operation and remind me to present her with the Ashoka Award for bravery and valour.

AIDE: But Sir, she is in the opposition!

PM: Oh! Darn! Well I need the time to sort out this Prathiba Patil fiasco, and I have also to word a letter to the PM of Britain about labelling terrorists by nationality or religion especially when they are from India.

AIDE: But Sir, you did not state this when our own media labelled Islamic terrorists coming from Pakistan or Britain. And should we take credit for the likes of Kalpana Chawla, Sunita Williams, Deepak Chopra and Sanjaya Malakar who are actually US citizens?
PM: Arre! You will not understand "realpolitik". Now what about that ship? Tell the Tamil Nadu Government not to try to stop the protests, ask the Left factions also to join in, and stir up those environmental activists, that should take away some of the limelight from Jayalalithaa, and should also give me some time.

AIDE: Yes Sir.

Two hours later.........

AIDE: Excuse me, Sir.

PM: What is it now ?

AIDE: The ship’s Captain says he has a letter of invitation from our government for the visit.

PM: Oh! Dammit!

AIDE: But the good news is that the ship cannot come into Chennai port but has to anchor two nautical miles offshore, and due to bad weather the Captain cannot leave his ship.He sends his regards and regrets that he cannot call on you personally.

PM: Very good. But why so far out?

AIDE: The ship’s doctors have warned about contamination to the ship’s superstructure from the pollution of the air and waters of the Cooum and Adyar rivers and the Buckingham canal sewage mixing with the water in the vicinity of Chennai Port.
PM: Excellent. Send a congratulatory note to the municipal authorities of Chennai for their initiative. Oh! And inform the auto drivers unions that they should charge the sailors fares on par with New York cab drivers. Let’s make the most of this puppy.

AIDE: Yes Sir.

PM: And clean out that missile mess on my doorstep, blame some kashmiri or ULFA terrorist. Now back to the issue of the President Elect, reminds me, I will also have to ask Madam to think about the Vice-Presidency, I wonder if Rabri Devi is free!

.......USS Nimitz, after much hullaballoo, left Indian shores and sailed out after a lot of bilious water had passed under its bridge.

Our scientists determined that they could not distinguish nuclear contamination from polluted waste of the Chennai port and its accompanying sewage. They wondered how they would ever be able to tell if there was a leakage from the Kalpakkam Atomic Power Plant next door.

JAYALALITHAA: We have an atomic power plant in Chennai? Why didn't someone inform me?

The ships doctors however were busy treating sailors suffering from malaria and intestinal disorders, and the ships janitors were concerned at the garbage and scum of pollution sticking to the ships hull, and entangled in the ships propellors.

At the time of writing the ship is in quarantine, and the Captain of the USS Nimitz is dining with the Sultan of Brunei, and egad! and gadzooks!;Pratibha Patil has become the new President of India.

Yo ho ho and a bottle of Rum!

Bright Lights & Celluloid Blues

Take II

Not that she had been born yet, but I had already named her, so she figured, “What the heck, I may as well be born a Lekha.”

So you see, I just KNEW she had talent waaaaayy back then. Even before she discovered, at a very tender age, and all on her own, the scientific principle; that warm wet tongues get stuck to cold freezer trays, and, the berry from the tree doesn’t travel very far into the ear canal.

A score and four years later, after her major creative scholastic achievements of discovering how to score pot at dorm parties, the interesting patterns of alcoholic puke, and the designs that guys have on women, – she graduated, quite honourably as expected, top of her class .

Then came the turning point. She gave in to the concept of becoming an actor, when she allowed them to put foundation cream on her face and styling mousse in her hair.

Don’t we marvel at screen actors whose hair all goes in the same direction and looks as though it is full-bodied and soft, and who have such flawless skin, but which in fact are mostly covered in hardened petrochemical substances to the point where they can deflect poison darts.

I suspect that these substances have leached into the skulls of some of these screen personalities and attacked their brain cells. Why else would Larry King think that the concept of a major journalistic achievement would be to interview ex-jailbird Paris Hilton.

Now how did Lekha go about becoming a screen personality.

A while back a public-television channel asked her to be the host of a new television show for young brain-dead adults who had no life, and I remember her saying to me, “ Sounds like fun.”

And so she became an artiste. That’s what people call you when you go in front of the camera: an artiste. They call you that to your face, the screen tabloids call you “the new talented artiste.”
Only after a while, you get down from your high, and realize they don’t really mean that you have any artistry or talent. Looking at it closely it is a calculated insult.

In the celluloid world “artiste” does not mean the cameraman, the lighting or sound engineers or even the person who handles the props, (all of whom do exactly what they are supposed to do every single time), but the dolt with the pancake makeup who makes everyone spend another four hours in the studio because she can’t remember to say, “ The four partridges in the pear tree” and keeps on substituting the “P” with the “F”.

The way they say “artiste” is reminiscent of how hoteliers use the word “guest” which to them means “idiot”.

When you are a screen artiste you are the store dummy. Studio personnel smear stuff on your face and keep brushing lint off your costume, and talk to you in the third person saying things like: ‘ What if we made her sit on the couch instead of the floor?” and “Can we make her eyes look lighter with contacts?” or “Do you think there is some way we can hide her pot belly ?”

Finally your hair contains two barrels of styling gel, and you dare not laugh or cosmetic flakes will fall of your cheek bones.

You pictured going into the studio, ambling upto the camera and saying, “Hello and welcome to our show. I am your host, and we present tonight a leading dentist cum child psychologist, to explain to you why your child likes to put cats into washing machines and microwave ovens.” Then you would sit back and listen to the expert, you would nod your head knowingly and frown with concern every now and then. And sometimes you would say something really spontaneous and witty.

The way it turns out, nothing spontaneous happens in the studio. There’s several hours of prepping the studio, where the light guys shine bright lights at different angles, and then stand around frowning with varying facial expressions, then they dust the studio with special powders to cut down the glare from those bright lights. They then decide to move to a completely different location - usually Switzerland, where they start over.

Once they decide that the lights are just right – as bright and hot as possible, then it becomes time for the artiste to come in and take over- WRONG! That happens AFTER the sound check and the camera placements which take another few hours, and involve a few kilometres of cabling snaking all over the floor and dangling from the ceiling. Then the directors chair gets dusted.

NOW you, the artiste gets called in to make a fool of yourself. You come in, walk up and casually seat yourself on the chaise lounge, lean smiling into the camera, make a witty remark, turn to your left and make more witty remarks to another camera, get up gracefully and walk out. Sounds cool and easy right?

Here’s what actually goes on; while you are giving your performance, the director, the producer, the managing director, all the assistant producers and the tea boy are in the control room out of your hearing, discussing what you’ve been doing wrong.

Now you can take criticism. Your father has always been very direct with you, “Lekha, this is crap” he says by way of criticism, and you can handle it. But studio folk never talk to you like that. They’ll talk to you like you are emotionally retarded – and treat you like a little kid. They go to great pains not to hurt your feelings. Their first sentence is ALWAYS very positive.

“That was great, Lekha. Verrrrry nice. Now, we’re going to try this again but be a little more pro-active, OK? When you walk in, try not to stoop, OK? When you sit down cross your right leg over your left, OK? Also when you look at the camera try not to lick your lips, OK? And when you turn left do it slower without flicking you hair, otherwise it looks odd, OK? Also remember to say F-our P-artridges, don’t mix it up, OK? So try to be natural, and let’s have fun, OK? Let’s put a teeny bit more energy into it, OK? We think we almost have the scene.”

So you repeat everything again and again many times over, and of course all your witty remarks now sound so flat from the repetition to the stupid cameraman, who had not got them even the first time around. But you keep at it, over and over until finally, after you have lost count of the many repeats, comes the voice: “That was perfect, Lekha. Let’s try it again with a little more pizzazz. And this time say your name, OK?

…… and the Oscar for best new female artiste interviewing a dentist goes to……..