Thursday, December 25, 2025

A little smoke, lots of fireworks

By
Aastha Atray Banan
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Power. Money. And stars. The Moranis have everything. Aastha Atray Banan tells you why the brothers are the nerve centre of Bollywood
 
 
 
Kingmakers? Ali and Karim Morani
 
 
 
WHEN KARIM MORANI turned 50 in 2009, he decided to celebrate his birthday over two days. It is said that on the first day, Shah Rukh Khan and his coterie trooped in to shower their affection. The second day was reserved for the other and equally important Khan, Aamir. As a family acquaintance observed, the Moranis are part of all the camps. “They are too smart to alienate anybody.”
 
 
 
Cut to 30 May. Karim Morani was arrested and taken into judicial custody. He has been chargesheeted for allegedly having facilitated the transfer of Rs 200 crore to the DMK-run Kalaignar TV and pocketing Rs 6 crore in the process. He has also been accused of handling bribes in the scandal that may have deprived the Centre of a potential revenue worth Rs 180 crore.
 
 
 
The recent controversy has also thrown light on the Morani phenomenon in Bollywood. The brothers Ali, Karim and Mohammed and their wives are friends with Bollywood bigwigs like Shah Rukh Khan (believed to be Karim’s “best friend”), Aamir Khan, Rani Mukerji, Hrithik Roshan, Priyanka Chopra, Kareena Kapoor and Shilpa Shetty among others. While the tales of their friendships make headlines, not much is known about the Moranis and why they are so important to Bollywood.
 
 
 
The first generation of Moranis founded Amir Morani Fireworks in the name of their eldest son and step-brother of the younger Moranis in 1937. In 2006, the elder brother broke away to run Amir Morani Fireworks and the Moranis named theirs, Morani Fireworks. With confidence in the financial stability of the family business, the Moranis had decided to foray into Bollywood in the early 1980s with director Bunty Soorma and launched Cineyug Films, though the step-brother wasn’t a part of this venture. In 1997, they started Cineyug Entertainment. Many of their early projects starred the then best friend Sunny Deol. The Morani brothers had known Deol since their days at the Jamnabai Narsee School, alma mater to generations of Bollywood children. They went on to produce films such as Arjun, Vardi, Damini and Raja Hindustani. Rumour has it that after Soorma died in 2002 following a heart attack, Karim too had one that ended the high-wire game of film production. Though Cineyug Entertainment Pvt Ltd, an event management company, fast gained popularity for organising some of the most prestigious live shows and award functions.
 
 
 
Today, even after Karim’s arrest, industry insiders say the Moranis are the best event managers (with only Wizcraft offering any competition). Cineyug has been organising the Filmfare Awards ceremony for years now. They have also organised events such as the Temptations World Tour (2004) with Shah Rukh Khan, Preity Zinta, Priyanka Chopra and Rani Mukerji; Harshad Mehta’s son’s wedding with its 7,000- strong guestlist in 2005; Saif Ali Khan and Kareena’s show in 2008 in Sharjah and the closing ceremony of the Indian Premier League in South Africa in 2009.
 
 
 
What Bollywood vouches for is the professionalism they brought into what had been a fly-by-night business. “They have been around for long and are known for their efficiency,” says film writer Anupama Chopra. Critic Bhavna Somaiya, who worked closely with the family during her stint with Screen magazine, remembers the experience fondly, “Their shows are flawless.” They were the first to win the trust of female stars, and persuade them that tours abroad do not have to be shady, risky affairs they may be dropped into without warning. Visas were arranged without any fuss and they offered plenty of limelight to each insecure member of multi-starrer ensembles. The less charitable say (and no one will be quoted because they assume the brothers will be back soon) the Moranis are the blue-eyed boys of Bollywood because they have helped stars get richer. The unsubstantiated allegation is that the Moranis dealt in hawala money and promised discretion to stars who wanted to stash their foreign earnings abroad to later fund houses in London and Dubai. And if they don’t get a show, they’d find a way to sabotage it.
 
 
 
THE MORANIS have always been known to love the good life and have thrown some of the most lavish parties in the industry — a hospitality that could now come back to haunt them. Talk of how their multi-storeyed house in the expensive neighbourhood of Juhu, where all the brothers live on different floors, is wall-to-wall Versace is rife. Sample the snobbery: “No wonder they are so well-connected. If you want to get to SRK, forget his publicist, try the Moranis. Every single show or wedding SRK has done has been organised by Karim Morani. Throughout the IPL too, Morani was always by his side. They have day-to-day access to his house.” Adds another: “All the wives (including Karim’s wife Zara) dress up like Gauri Khan — with the same branded handbags and shoes. People often say that the Moranis are ‘all money, no class’.”
 
 
 
[box]
 
 
 

Friends Indeed

 
 
 
Bollywood biggies the Moranis have worked with closely
 
 
 
Shah Rukh Khan Karim is the executive producer of SRK’s next Ra.One
 
 
 
Aamir Khan On Karim Morani’s 50th birthday, he hosted two parties. One for the SRK camp, and another for Aamir
 
 
 
Sunny Deol Went to school with Karim. Was one of Cineyug Films’ favourite leads
 
 
 
Saif Ali Khan And Kareena KapoorIn 2008, Moranis organised Saif and Kareena’s first show at Sharjah
 
 
 
[/box]
 
 
 
Mushtaq Shiekh, screenplay writer and author of The Making of Asoka andStill Reading Khan is kinder. “I have known them for pretty long and I don’t think they are over-the- top. They had parties if there were occasions to have parties. What’s wrong in that? Karim is a soft-spoken guy. We are just crucifying them now because they got into trouble.” He adds, “They made the stage shows spectacular events and their speciality was getting many stars together. And because they were the first ones to try it, they became that guiding light. This kind of success comes only when people trust you. At one point, stars used to say we will only do a show if the Moranis are doing it.” Step-brother Amir Morani, says, “It is unfortunate. But Karim couldn’t have been involved in something like this. He is very sincere and god-fearing.”
 
 
 
There have always been stories about the Moranis’ underworld connections, with most of the conjecture revolving around Dawood Ibrahim. But that is pure conjecture. Their closeness to power does not sound like fun. Their spat with Amar Singh during a Zee award show in Dubai made headlines. The story goes that Singh was upset with the seats allotted to the Bachchans and reportedly slapped Karim. Other reports say that it was Subhash Chandra of Zee who slapped Karim. Later Sahara’s Subrata Roy allegedly also decided to boycott the Moranis.
 
 
 
Karim Morani is the executive producer of Shah Rukh Khan’s Ra.One. Khan has duly returned the favour by producing Karim’s daughter Zoa’s debut film Always Kabhi Kabhi under his banner Red Chillies. Khan told a Mumbai newspaper recently, “Haan, hai dost (Morani). Toh jaan le loge kya? Are you going to penalise Karim, or me, because we are friends. Yes we were friends and still are. But whatever the law has to do, it should do.” Even Salman Khan came out in support of the family when he said, “I have worked with the Moranis for many years, and he is innocent till proven guilty.”
 
 
 

The Moranis won the trust of female stars easily. They offered plenty of limelight to each insecure member of multistarrer ensembles

 
 
 
A top CBI official told TEHELKA that Karim Morani could have escaped going to jail if he wanted to. The CBI had asked him to become an approver (as his role was a minor one), but he insisted the dealings were “genuine and that he had done nothing illegal”. Despite repeated attempts to reach them, the Moranis were not available for comment.
 
 
 
For the time being, it would seem Karim Morani has some tough times ahead. It’s possible all their transactions, business or personal, will be under legal scrutiny and the retrospective squint of everyone in Bollywood. Shiekh sums up Bollywood’s dilemma, “The industry lives in the confined space of a studio and the dark walls of a theatre. When something like this happens, they panic. It happened to Sanjay Dutt and Shiney Ahuja. It will be okay soon. They are great professionals and when they start working again, it will all return to normal. As they say, the show must go on.”
 
 
 
Aastha Atray Banan is a Senior Correspondent, Mumbai with Tehelka.
aastha@tehelka.com

‘Did wearing a hijab make the Alima a greater Muslim?’

By
A. Mustafa
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Illustration: Samia Singh

RECENTLY, I travelled to Bijapur in Karnataka to meet some Muslim women activists. At that time, I did not think the trip would Zakia Somancompel me to ask myself a very basic question: what does it mean to be truly in the service of Allah?
Accompanying me was social worker Tajbhai who is associated with the NGO Swaraj that works for women’s rights. At our first stop, we met about 60 women in the garden of the mausoleum of Ali Adil Shah II, Bara Kaman. This was a feisty group. Not shy of expressing their radical views, this group demanded equality and justice for themselves and other women. No one could miss their eloquence when they talked about women’s rights in marriage and society. It was, as I saw it, a no-nonsense group that had begun to practice what it preached.
A few moments and several conversations later, I realised the women were uneducated and came from underprivileged backgrounds. Pleasantly surprised, I turned my attention towards Fatima Apa, a member of the group, as she narrated an incident where she and her army of women activists had taught a young man a much-needed lesson. The man in question had eloped with a young girl despite being married and father of a newborn daughter. The Nyaya Panchayat comprising these women not only tracked down the man, but also made him apologise to the wife and the girl. They also made sure he deposited a sizeable amount in fixed deposit for his first wife and child.
Another member, Dawal Bibi, told me how after years of being tortured by their husbands and in-laws, all of them had decided to express their dissent. I noticed the pride with which she informed me that in the past few years, the group came to be known as the courageous samaritans who encouraged women to be fearless and interact with the district administration and police to seek justice. The word of their endeavour has now spread as far as Maharashtra and they are often called upon to resolve marital, property and children’s custody disputes. But they knew that none of this would have been possible if Allah had not been on their side. They believed their actions complied to what the Quran taught and were grateful to Allah for enabling them to help others. It was delightful to listen to their radical interpretation of the Quran.
But my happiness was shortlived.
Tajbhai and his team members had told me how they sometimes rely upon an Alima (a woman scholar) to help them in their endeavours. The moment we reached her house I was ushered into a private room inside with other women while the men sat in the drawing room. She was covered head to toe in a hijab. After seeing her, I was curious to know more about her role in helping women’s groups. She said she was merely trying to spread the message of Islam and her main attempt was to bring women to the ways of din(religion). As the conversation proceeded, I told her about the group of women I had met in the morning. She did not share my excitement. She said she advised women not to go out of their homes “unnecessarily”. Reason? “Allah wants women to be at home as they are nazuk,” she said, adding that if at all women went out, the Quran directed them to wear a hijab. She emphasised on the need to follow the ways of the Shariat and offer namaaz five times and fast regularly. All for the religion.
I wondered if wearing a hijab and offering namaaz had made the Alima a greater Muslim than the Nyaya Panchayat group? Horror-struck by her views on the religion, I wondered if the voices of Fatima Apa and Dawal Bibi were not Muslim enough? Surely they resounded in Allah’s ears as they are still resounding in mine.
Zakia Soman is 46. She is the founder member of Bharatiya Muslim Mahila Andolan

Goodbye Sheila, Munni and the deadly jhatkas

By
Aastha Atray Banan
-

Bollywood actors cannot dance anymore. Young choreographers and dancers are making an exodus to the relative creativity of television shows , says Aastha Atray Banan

Choreographer Danny Fernandes trains Mayuresh and Bhavna
Flying games Choreographer Danny Fernandes trains Mayuresh and Bhavna
Photo: Apoorva Guptay

SOMEWHERE IN the fifth dimension known as Bollywood, someone is shooting a dance sequence right now. This is a safe bet because Bollywood shoots anywhere between three to five songs every day of the year — a figure that should not surprise anyone. What is surprising is the current exodus of Bollywood choreographers, saying the future of dance is elsewhere. In television to be precise.
For many ambitious dancers, television has become the refuge of choice. However, live shows in random venues, and even teaching reluctant children seem easier than bashing their heads against Bollywood’s walls. The main grouse choreographers and dancers have is this: you can’t break in unless you agree to comply by the ‘formula’ — leave your hopes of incorporating a contemporary lift in place of that hip roll by the door.
Danny Fernandes, Kunjan Jani and Savio Barnes started dancing 10 years ago when they were in their late teens. They worked their way up from professional back-up dancers for choreographers such as Farah Khan and Saroj Khan to choreographers for music videos, always keeping an eye for the main chance. Like everything else in Bollywood, the big break in dance comes only to the lucky and connected. In the past few years, they have stopped looking at Bollywood. After being one of the winners of Nach Baliye’s first season, they have been on the reality television dance show wagon. The hankering for Bollywood continues subliminally though the trio knows what happens if you somehow do break in. “They’d rather we copy the choreography from an American pop number, than experiment, because they feel safer that way,” say all three of them in unison.
When we meet them, the trio is choreographing a sequence for Dance Ke Superstars. “We chose Bhavna and Mayuresh for this sequence because they have done aerial acts before. Mayuresh is a skilled Malkhamb dancer,” says Danny. Malkhamb is a Indian martial art usually performed on top of a pole or a rope. Bhavna and Mayuresh dance gracefully in the sky for what Danny describes as a “silk cloth act”. With just two silk panels hanging from the ceiling to support them as they spin and roll, the act looks not just gorgeous and risky, but also strenuous.
The trio looks up to great modern choreographers like Astad Deboo but mostly, they watch hours of dance performances on YouTube where their tastes are decidedly mainstream. They love Madonna, Justin Timberlake and Usher’s videos for that smooth hip hop vibe. They dream of choreographing a giant musical, a la Moulin Rouge, with a lot of hip hop and pop moves along with aerial, water and acrobatic acts and a completely Bollywood feel.
BY SHUNNING young, talented choreographers who could help dance evolve to its next level, is Bollywood sealing itself into stagnation? Terence Lewis certainly thinks so. An established dance teacher for the past 15 years, Lewis has choreographed for a few movies, including Ram Gopal Varma’s Naach. Lewis is now a choreographer and judge on Zee’s Dance India Dance (DID). “We need new blood or we need established choreographers to get out of their comfort zone. Choreographers should expand their own repertoires and also insist that actors rehearse and learn new stuff. People don’t dance anymore, cameras do,” he complains, adding, “I am smug about my television success because I get to experiment and see new talent. The level of dancing is much higher.” He confesses rather amused that he rarely gets a movie assignment anymore. “I am jobless most of the times as I want to incorporate contemporary dance, or Kalaripayattu, but for that you need an actor who will rehearse.”
Lewis’ frustration reveals that even established choreographers need to put a lid on their creativity to survive in the industry. Of course, as in any running enterprise, there are the pragmatists. Longinus Fernandes, who shot to fame with Slumdog Millionaire’s Jai Ho is one of them. He spills a string of aphorisms. “It’s the audience that decides what is a hit. The jhatka works because people want it. You need to learn the thought process of the industry. Maybe one out of hundred get that.”

‘I wanted Arjun Rampal to do this technical dance piece but he said he’d need time. Since we had none, he just ended up picking up dust and flinging it around,’ says Longinus Fernandes

Longinus tells the story of how he became practical. “For a dance calledJaanleva in Moksha, I wanted to use spears and make the dancers jump and use the spear in a unique manner. But I was told there is no time. Then I just ended up choreographing a simple jig. In the same song, I wanted to make Arjun Rampal do this extremely technical dance piece but he said, ‘I will need time,’ and since we had none, he just ended up picking up some dust and flinging it around. Though it looked great in the end, I learnt a lesson that day — you cannot want everything. You have to compromise. Now, unless the actor is Hrithik Roshan, I keep all kind of ballet techniques or advanced classical steps out of my choreography,” he says without any hint of sarcasm or pathos.

Same pinch Item numbers like Munni (left) and Sheila (right) reek of predictability

Bosco, of the choreographer duo Bosco-Caesar that has worked in films like Three Idiots, Love Aaj Kal and Jab We Met, has a more optimistic spin. “There are no rules in Bollywood, so you can try anything. But there are limitations — of actors and time. We try and create steps that will get the audience ticking, or we just stick to the usual norms — make it ‘massy’ — and that means putting in the hip rolls and bust thrusts.” As far as dance technique goes, the simpler and more ‘massy’ it is, the better because the ‘masses’ judge a Bollywood dance by whether they can do that move at the next party.
GEETA KAPOOR, the popular judge of DID, who has choreographed for films such as Saathiya, Kabhi Khushi Kabhie Gham and assisted Farah Khan for many years, including last year’s Sheila Ki Jawani, agrees with Bosco. “Choreographers should not care about the banner — big or small. Just do all the work you get. I have worked with the biggest banners and sometimes, haven’t even got credit. I often refuse to do a song just because everyone wants me to repeat Sheila. They get a choreographer who will copy my work for half the price. Is that fair?” Geeta draws the line when probed if she would like to change the ‘formula’. “Why change it? The formula works no matter how much it curbs one’s creativity.”
Television offers easy, quick and substantial money (anywhere from Rs 50,000 to Rs 1.5 lakh for a one-day shoot) along with instant recognition. You can even choose what suits you — either dance with and choreograph a celebrity in Jhalak Dikhhla Jaa or Nach Baliye, or dance yourself in DID . The dance-based show is a trend that’s showing no signs of going away, especially with Hrithik Roshan’s forthcoming television debut Just Dance. DID creator and Zee’s Senior Creative Director (non-fiction) Ranjeet Thakur explains, “DID is a platform for original work. The stakes are very high in Bollywood, so you need balls of steel to make it, and that’s why directors or producers shy away from using newcomers.” He adds, “Thanks to television, choreographers have faces. They get mobbed in small towns. They get paid so much and on time. On top of that, they get to be creative. Why would they want Bollywood?”
Bollywood does seem to be losing out. In Bandra, we meet the talented contemporary dancer Shampa Sonthalia. The 30-yearold daughter of the late choreographer Gopi Krishna (of Jhanak Jhanak Payal Baaje fame), Shampa was the first runner- up of Jhalak Dikhhla Jaa this year and intends to stick to television. “Here I get a chance to do contemporary stuff and push the limits of dance. I admire Munni and Sheila but item numbers have become so stereotypical now.”
But as most choreographers point out, the biggest hindrance for them are actors, who only work with people they know will make them “look good” without much effort. “Govinda will only work with Ganesh Hegde and Abhishek Bachchan with Vaibhavi Merchant,” says Kunjan. Choreographer and dance teacher Sarika Shirodhkar, 30, adds, “Shahid Kapur used to dance so well. But now all his moves look the same, because he will not work with anyone but Ahmed Khan. And all the actresses just want to do the same item number.”
Even status quoist Geeta Kapoor zeroes in on the fact that most Bollywood actors today can’t dance, won’t try and don’t need to because the choreographer and camera will do all the hard work. “I love DID because I work with freshers who are ready to experiment. In films, I only try to do something technical if I have actors who will give me 100 percent, like a Katrina Kaif or a Rani Mukerji. Otherwise, they have too many physical limitations. They just want to do two easy steps,” she says.
And though the dreamers may have moved to pastures such as doing live shows, teaching and reality shows, no one really gives up on the dream. That’s the beauty of Bollywood it would seem. As the gates get higher, the crowd just grows. As Kunjan says, “I want a Filmfare.” To get that, if they have to follow the formula, they will do that. Because all they want to do is get that one elegant foot in, and later, they swear they will change the rules of the game. That’s what many before them said. We just hope they keep their word.
Aastha Atray Banan is a Senior Correspondent, Mumbai with Tehelka.
aastha@tehelka.com

I watched Haunted with Shyam Ramsay

By
Aastha Atray Banan
-

Shouldn’t we feel the ghost lick us if it’s 3D? Is the rape scene authentic? Aastha Atray Banan recounts the horror

Ghost buster Ramsay believes Haunted 3D needed more gore Photo: MS Gopal
Ghost buster Ramsay believes Haunted 3D needed more gore
Photo: MS Gopal

HORROR FILMMAKER Shyam Ramsay seems to be an unusually generous man. He is happy to let Vikram Bhatt take credit for making India’s first three-dimensional horror film, Haunted 3D, even though Ramsay made one way back in 1985. “I made Samri in 3D many years ago. It was the story of a child who turns into a demon called Samri. So, when I heard they were calling Haunted India’s first horror 3D, I was amused. Well, let him be happy,” he smiles as we head to watch the film on a sweaty Sunday afternoon in Mumbai. The name Ramsay is film royalty when it comes to B-grade horror in India — it is the name credited with feeding our appetite for the macabre for nearly four decades now, with films like Purana Mandir, Haveli and Do Gaz Zameen ke Neeche. Yet Shyam Ramsay is like a child excited at the prospect of watching Haunted 3D. “Vikram is a good director, and I am sure he has done something different. There have been mixed reports about the movie, but I’m sure we will have fun!” he says sportingly.
As fate would have it, his seat number is 13. “Well, look at that!” he laughs, before leaning in to ask with some shock, “So you really haven’t seen a horror movie in a hall before?” As one nods sheepishly, he winks in response — “Don’t worry, and don’t be scared. I am here, and ghosts are scared of me.” Contrary to popular opinion that ghosts must flock to him, hankering for a role in his next film, then. And so it begins — as we put on our 3D glasses, one hopes to make it through the film without screaming. Ramsay, however, is clearly hoping someone will make him jump out of his seat. Fifteen minutes into the film, as the curiously depressed hero (played by Mimoh Chakraborty), installs cameras in his home, Glen Manor, to capture the resident ghost’s movements, Ramsay is quick to point out, “This part is borrowed from Paranormal Activity!” Shortly after, as the innocent heroine is raped by a lustful ghost in the bygone world of 1936, and Mimoh reads her letter in his present day Manor, the filmmaker sighs — “…and this whole sequence is lifted from Entity.” As the ghost finally lunges through the air with its black hair streaming across the screen, Ramsay still refuses to be impressed. “Doesn’t this part remind you of The Ring?” Here is an audience member whose vast knowledge of horror films might give young Vikram Bhatt nightmares. When Mimoh screams out the evil spirit’s all-too-real and banal name, the audience goes into splits. The man at our side is smug as he says wryly, “Arrey, what sort of a name is Professor Aiyar? They are trying to be too realistic but a ghost needs a wazandar name. Professor Khurana, no one would laugh at a name like that,” says the Punjabi in him.
During the interval, Ramsay is pensive and seems unhappy. Are the 3D effects hard to stomach? “They are well shot, but they could have used the effects better.” Is it the make-up that’s making him cringe? “It’s minimal, very chalky. But I like the coloured contacts they have used.” It must be the music then, that is making him want to pull his hair out. “That’s very disappointing. There should have been more silences because then the dhamaka is better.” What is causing Ramsay to mirror Mimoh’s tortured expression? He seems hesitant at first, but then blurts out, “That rape scene just wasn’t authentic,” a dramatic pause follows. “The girl is being raped by a ghost who knows no concern, no boundaries. Then why will he not remove all her clothes?” As we ponder over this slightly disconcerting question, he adds, “All her clothes should have been torn off. She should have been naked. They could have fogged it over. But you needed to give that effect that she is not wearing any clothes. Now, that would have made it truly authentic.”
We are trying to hide our misplaced discomfort at the suggestion when he adds some more trivia, “That bit where the spirit beheads his victims — I did that in Purana Mandir back in 1980.” Are we on the verge of staging a walk-out? Surprisingly, Ramsay is still optimistic, “The second half may just be better.” But just a few minutes in, he shakes his head sadly. “How has the hero gone back in time? He can’t change what happened in the past. How will the audience accept that?” In a world where a ghost can rape a girl, and does it wrong at that, nothing seems impossible anymore. But Ramsay seems to be a strange mix of reality and the supernatural, so we stay shut. “No one will identify with this twist. How can a hero go back 85 years to save a girl? No, no, not going to work,” he mumbles, almost giving up on the movie. There is a moment of redemption. As the spirit enters a woman’s body and licks the girl with it’s slimy tongue asking,” Do you like that?” and then proceeds to molest her, Vikram is back in Ramsay’s good books. “Now this is a sequence I like. The make-up is good. The tongue effect is also well shot, though as it was 3D, maybe we should have felt it licking us?” he smiles wickedly, and we silently mouth, “No way!”
AFTER ANOTHER hour of the couple trying hard to run away from the ghost, who just seems intent on tearing off the heroine’s clothes (though obviously that’s not enough), the film is surprisingly tepid. Ramsay looks pretty deflated as well. “Don’t get me wrong. Vikram is a great director, but this just doesn’t cut it. He tried to do something different. The fact that two ghosts — the innocent girl and the evil spirit — live in the same house for 85 years is a unique one. But I would have done three things differently. First, I would have made it scarier with more make-up, or more gore. Secondly, the music should be more haunting. Finally, and most importantly, they didn’t really use 3D. It didn’t matter if we were wearing 3D glasses because most of the effects don’t work. If I had this medium now, I could do wonders,” he adds wistfully, “I do look forward to Vikram’s films.” While posing next to a Haunted 3D poster later, Ramsay reveals his future plans, “My next movie is a horror musical. It’s going to be very different.” Was that the sound of Vikram Bhatt screaming?
Aastha Atray Banan is a Senior Correspondent, Mumbai with Tehelka.
aastha@tehelka.com

Pop! Goes the wannabe

By
Aastha Atray Banan
-

Bollywood may have killed Indipop but a small group of musicians are refusing to give up the dream, says Aastha Atray Banan

All in one Meenu Singh
All in one Meenu Singh

IN OSHIWARA, they still have popstars. The Made in Indias, Miss Indias and Bolo Ta Ra Ra Ras have faded out of our lives. We don’t dance anymore to Malkit Singh’s Gud Nal Ishq Mitha or Baba Sehgal’s Manjula during a sangeet ceremony. But in Oshiwara, they still have popstars. Record companies are no longer looking for new talent and music channels are not trying to find the Indian Spice Girls, but the popstar dream has not faded for a handful of singers, many of whom live in this suburban Mumbai neighbourhood. Take Nandini Jumani. A few months ago, 20-foot billboards sprouted across Mumbai advertising Krazy Kool Kat’s new album Krazy Kool Kat Been Bajake. Most people reading this would have never heard of Nandini aka Krazy Kool Kat’s album. As Amit Gurbaxani, music writer and senior editor at Mumbai Boss, says bluntly, “Not a single person I know listens/buys/ watches this brand of Indipop.” But Krazy Kool Kat occupies a small ecosystem of celebrity of her own, with her own screaming fans and her own idea of what a popstar should be.
She has released five albums and performs the songs from those albums all year round in B-town India. In a slow month, she does at least seven live shows in small towns such as Nagpur, Sholapur and Sangli. In a better month, she is touring overseas — for corporate shows, cruises and weddings. For each show, she earns around Rs 2 lakh. Jumani has an extensive wardrobe of mini jumpsuits, hot pants and bikini tops — all “sensual”, not “sexual”, she insists. Her videos (which flit by on Zee and ETC) are raunchy with lots of gyrating and writhing. She largely sings remixes like Yama Yama, Kaante Nahin Katate, Sapera Been Baja Mein Nachoongi.
For someone who goes by the moniker Krazy Kool Kat, Jumani seems sane. Her Facebook status messages are unlikely for a steamy video queen but let us say, topical. “I am with Anna Hazare, but why isn’t Kiran Bedi in the public committee” and “Bhag neta bhag, Anna aaya”. No make-up, except a hint of kajal, dressed in gym clothes, with diamonds sparkling in her ears, she looks like a Bollywood wannabe who could possibly just make it. But Jumani has already made it.
The scenes at her live shows are more often than not chaotic — the largely male audience (businessmen, local traders or junior executives) doesn’t hesitate to express their affection for the performer and scream “Nandini, marry me” or “Krazy Kat bas meri hain” . Her lyrics are intended to cause a faint breathlessness. Sometimes her fans do get close enough to even touch her but her bouncers ( “I have 30 bouncers sometimes,” says Jumani with wide-eyed pride) are prepared for the jostling.
JUMANI IS just one of the handful of practitioners of Indipop who are still splashing around trying to survive the tsunami called Bollywood music. Indipop has been dead and cremated long time ago. Today, record companies ask you to make your own album and a video before you approach them, and you still have to pay them to release it — the musical equivalent of vanity publishing. Their logic: pop doesn’t sell. Bollywood music rules the roost — at discos, weddings and even cricket matches. Bollywood killed pop music and, in effect, our many popstars, many of whom got forced into playback (Sonu Niigaam, Alisha Chinai, Daler Mehndi), or into judging reality music shows, and many who just withered away. What’s left are the likes of Jumani who admit they continue to struggle not only because they love pop, but also because they don’t really know what else to do.
Like every popstar, Jumani has a story of how her stardom was meant to be. This Assamese girl has an MA in history and comes from a family of professors. She wanted to be an IPS officer. “It seems so funny I ended up in this profession. My mother was shocked. I did a few ads and then realised I loved the camera. I am shy but in front of the camera, I transform. Maybe because I am super ambitious, and I know being sexy and wearing sexy clothes is what sells. But then what are our top heroines doing as well? I like being looked at when I am on stage. And I am confident of my body,” she says matter-of-factly. “What hurts me is that people think I am like my image. They think I’m easy, and don’t take me seriously. I’ve lasted all these years because I took the right steps.” She has been around for six years now and has rock-steady confidence. “I am Kareena and Priyanka rolled into one. I’m the ‘It’ girl,” she adds.
Not everyone is as lucky as Jumani, but that hasn’t stopped them for giving pop a shot.

As Shefali Jariwala was making a sensation with her blue thongs in Kanta Laga, poor Shashwati Phukan did the actual singing

Devashish Sargam, who released his first album under the T- series label in 2008 after seven years of struggle, is now waiting for his second album to surface. The 33-year-old Bengali thanks his parents for helping him survive all these years. “Music producers forget their own days of struggle when they see new people like us. It’s been a hard road. I was going to be a CA but I knew singing was my passion. And I didn’t want to give up. I have been told not to release an album. But I think if you are talented, your album will work,” he says confidently. His first album, Bewafa Yaar Tha, was a hit in small towns because of the one “sad song” T-series advised him to sing. “But my new album will only have peppy songs. It’s called Sorry Tujhe Salam. Great name, right?” he asks as hopefully as a child.

A shot in the dark Devashish Sargam
A shot in the dark Devashish Sargam

SARGAM IS inspired by the romantic greats such as Sonu Niigaam, Kumar Sanu and Udit Narayan. His next album (self-produced), has the kind of music he likes — romantic peppy tunes with danceable beats. He has composed and written three of the songs in the album. Now T-series will release it. “Usually albums don’t use acoustic sounds but we have used trash cans to give a new texture to the album. The lyrics are all about love and there is a mix of Hindi and English — that’s what I want to be known for.” Sargam hasn’t done many shows till yet, and doesn’t even know how much his first album sold. “Record companies will say it didn’t sell anything!” But he is sure he doesn’t want to give up just yet.
Much like Meenu Singh, who released her debut album Dhol Vajda in January. The spunky mother of one sits in her Lokhandwala flat, advising a producer couple about how to make a movie. Meenu came to Mumbai 15 years ago, first to become an actress (she landed a bit part in BR Chopra’s Mahabharat), then got married. She had always loved writing, so she started by writing a song for singer Bali Brahmbhatt. Soon, she found herself writing hit songs for Daler Mehndi and Mika. But Meenu couldn’t ignore that nagging feeling inside her. “I always wanted to be famous. Money doesn’t matter but I wanted to be in front of the camera.” And so, she decided to release her own album, which she has produced, financed, composed music and written lyrics for. “I even made my own video and then T-series released it.” In her hip-hop styled video, Meenu has lots of bling and fur. One song goes “India ho ya London shondon ya ho Amrika, bin tere sanu na sanu lagda sab hai fika fika” — lyrics she describes as “elegant”. She describes her style in a marvellously simple way: “I look like a foreigner.” She would rather perform in the UK than India and will keep releasing albums till she has the money to do it. “It’s my passion and I am just getting started.”
Crooning queen Nandini Jumani aka Krazy Kool Kat
Crooning queen Nandini Jumani aka Krazy Kool Kat

But not everyone has the money or indulgent parents to fund their dreams. Live performer George, who has been dancing and singing Bollywood and Punjabi hits for eight years, is a steward in an airline. The Delhi boy says he is ready for the struggle. “I’m trying to save enough money to try and release an album. I do live shows whenever I can and my friends help me get corporate events. And thanks to my cabin crew training, I am super confident. It’s a very tough industry and I shouldn’t even be wasting my time. But singing and performing is my passion. I am an artiste. Where do you go when that’s your scene?”
AN UNEXPECTED twist. Krazy Kool Kat, the It girl of B-grade pop, informs us she doesn’t sing her own songs. She lipsyncs. “I don’t sing my songs but I do decide what songs we should remix as well as the styling of a video. While we process this information, she defends herself, “But I sell the album. Everyone wants to see a beautiful girl. I do feel bad for the singers, though,” she rues in her soft voice and then flashes a brilliant smile. She lipsyncs. So who sings her songs?
Enter Shashwati Phukan. Thirty four- year-old Phukan is the singer of many remixed Indipop songs, but nobody knows she even sung them. She has sung many of Krazy Kool Kat’s songs. What you will remember is the sensation- causing video of  Kanta Laga with Shefali Jariwala. While Shefali was making a sensation with her blue thongs, poor Phukan did all the singing. As she says sadly, “Being beautiful is very important here. If you are not stunning, well you can sing as well as anyone fipossibly can, but you will get nowhere.” The Assamese singer, who has been in Mumbai for 15 years now, sees no point giving money to record companies. She’d rather wait it out. “My husband is a programmer and one day we will release an album,” she smiles.
JUMANI WOULD be considered a Bgrade performer by most. Many industry insiders were horrified they would be featured in a piece that even mentioned Jumani. The Indipop industry itself is confused about how it got to this point. For instance, popstar-turnedplayback singer KK says, “Pop music needs to get back its lost glory.” On the other hand, KK also says that real popstars like him and Alisha Chinai were absorbed by the playback industry because they were talented and lucky. Jumani and the second rung, he surmises, just can’t break into playback singing.
Tulsi Kumar is 25 and strangely placed in this strange world. The hip, young daughter of the late Gulshan Kumar, and a part of the T-series empire says, yes, Bollywood music is the only kind of music lucrative for record companies to sell. Yes, you could blame the radio, which gave no air time to pop songs. And audiences so star-struck that a song or video without Shah Rukh doesn’t work for them.
Tulsi loves pop but can’t see a revenue model in it. “I took the reverse route. I did Bollywood singing first and then released an album as I didn’t want people to say ‘she released an album only because she can’,” she says, “but even that didn’t work. We just released around 36,000 copies, and that’s a very average show. People told me I should have had a star in my video and then maybe it would have worked. But is that what pop music has been reduced to?”
Tulsi went back to playback. She has faint but damning praise for other pop wannabes. Much like KK. “It’s really hard to break into Bollywood. Playback is cut-throat competition. So it’s great they are doing what they can to make their living. I am not planning to release an album anytime soon but will try and introduce the single concept in India. I hope it works.”

Meenu Singh has produced, financed, composed music and lyrics for her album. She says she’d rather perform in the UK than India

Harmeet Singh, part of the production duo Meet Brothers, who gave music for Do Dooni Chaar, has been on the Indipop bandwagon for a long time now. You may remember them from their super hit song, Mika’s Aye Bhai Tune Pappi Kyun Li, inspired by Mika’s real life kiss episode with Rakhi Sawant. Harmeet is completely dismissive of the genre now but he is also one of the few people who get what drives the pop wannabes. “Honestly, pop is dead and in the coffin now. I blame it on piracy, free radio, MP3 formats and the Internet. Why these guys are still surfacing is because they have a keeda,” he laughs. “They need to be out there. But I advise all my brothers and sisters who want to be in pop music, don’t do it. And if you do, have a back-up profession to rely on.”
That is something Jumani and gang knows well. But as Harmeet also pointed out, the keeda is an itch you just can’t ignore. “The camera and I have a relationship,” says Jumani, “I can’t even imagine not being in front of it. I love seeing myself on tape. I dance in front of people and see them go mad about me, what more can I ask for?” Meenu answers in a dreamy tone, “I was tired of my songs being sung by different popstars but I got none of the starlight. I’ll repeat it again: I want to be famous.”
Aastha Atray Banan is a Senior Correspondent in Mumbai with Tehelka.
aastha@tehelka.com

Getting under India’s skin

By
Aastha Atray Banan
-

India’s first tattoo convention proved tattoos are well and truly yuppie, says Aastha Atray Banan

One’s not enough A visitor at the convention flaunts her MS Dhoni tattoo
One’s not enough A visitor at the convention flaunts her MS Dhoni tattoo
Photo: AFP

SHOW ME a man with a tattoo and I’ll show you a man with an interesting past,” once said The Call of the Wild author Jack London. He may have been right. The country’s first tattoo convention held in Mumbai recently was rife with people and their intriguing and candid stories of the past that just needed a tattoo to make them timeless. Some wanted to remember an old friend who passed away, some a lost love. But the hundreds that walked in and got inked, whether for the first time or for the nth, proved what the organisers believed all along: tattoos are personal mementos and not just a thoughtless way to while away your time, or trademarks of the hippie culture.
Shibani Shah, 24, who organised the event with her business partner Rohit Patil, 24, for their company Eventos Promotions and More, had been planning a convention since she was 17. She fondly recalls, “I wanted to get a tattoo of an Om with the Gayatri Mantra but my mother told me that she would throw me out of the house if I did so. But I got it anyway. When I came home, my mother completely loved it, exclaiming, ‘This is so not junkie!’. That was why we wanted to hold the convention, to change the perceptions regarding this art.”
The convention played host to 25 artists and saw almost 5,000 people walk in, many of whom sat down to get inked. Photographer Priyanka Shertukde, 22, who got a unicorn inked on her back, winced and clenched her fists, but managed a smile anyway. “I have been thinking about this for a long time but I didn’t want to get a butterfly or something clichéd. When Al (a tattoo artist) told me that unicorns represent innocence and purity of heart, I knew I wanted to get it.”

‘I got Om tattooed on my arm. And no, I am not going to cover it in office, let everyone see it,’ giggles Sonal More

In the stall opposite Al’s, recruitment consultant Sonal More, 32, got an ‘Om’ tattooed on her arm. “I just knew I wanted an Om and my tattoo artist made a design I couldn’t say no to. And no, I am not going to cover my arm in office, let everyone see it,” she smiles. Her tattoo artist, Abhinandan Basu, who has been tattooing for three-and -a- half years now, was shocked at the turnout at the convention. Even more surprising were the unexpected mix of people who walked in — mothers, corporate honchos, dentists, businessmen, social workers, advertising officials, husbands and wives — all curious and eager for their own bit of ink. “It makes sense because people in their 30s are the ones who can really afford tattoos. There were no ego clashes between the tattoo artists. It was all about the art,” says Basu. Roshan Paul, another tattoo artist, agreed, “I think this convention blew away all the stereotypes associated with body art. There were kids who walked in with their mothers to get tattoos.”
IT WAS certainly a strange sight — as strangers sat next to each other and got their skin tattooed with their deepest emotions and memories, the convention was about more than just being “cool”. As two ice cream manufacturer brothers, dressed in identical office clothes — white shirts and black trousers — raised their arms flaunting their tattoos, and declared, “This is who we are.” It was clear — tattoos had got a new stamp of approval.
Aastha Atray Banan is a Senior Correspondent in Mumbai with Tehelka.
aastha@tehelka.com

The man who makes soap froth

By
Aastha Atray Banan
-

For the last decade, scriptwriter Rajesh Joshi  has written India’s most popular television shows. He tells  Aastha Atray Banan how his work will change the world

Photo: MS Gopal

IN 2001, writer Rajesh Joshi killed Mihir Virani in Kyunki Saas Bhi Kabhi Bahu Thi. Housewives across the country cried rivers. Amar Upadhyay, the actor who played Mihir, was flooded with calls checking if he was alive. “I found Amar standing at my door. He said, ‘Look at the way India has reacted,’” remembers Joshi. Voila, Joshi invented the reincarnation formula! “We brought Mihir back,” he says, knowing his decision marked the genesis of the Great Indian Soap. Joshi was no one-hit wonder. He then wrote Kasautii Zindagii Kay, Kkusum, Koi Apna Sa and Bandini, and today, writes the reigning winner — Pavitra Rishta, Balaji’s trump card on Zee TV.
Sitting in his Kandivili home in a leather recliner against the background of a wooden Ajanta-Elloraesque mural, Joshi has an air of knowing amusement. With Pavitra Rishta, Joshi has once again set new rules. Gone are the opulent settings. Inspired by his chawl days in Bhuleshwar, the story is about the undying love of a poor couple sans the jhataak clothes and rich families. With a TRP of 6.1, highest among all soaps, the show has turned its protagonists into small screen’s Ranbir Kapoor and Katrina Kaif.
Joshi, 50, hadn’t even imagined he would end up writing. Son of Mansukh Joshi, who co-founded the Indian National Theatre, he says, “The atmosphere was there, but I ended up working with a pharma company.” And then in August 1999, a car accident confined him to bed for three months. But life was to change soon. Before he knew it, he was writing Kyunki… “Vipul Mehta, who co-wrote Kyunki… with me, suggested I try my hand at writing. I didn’t have anything to do, so I said okay. I decided I would continue writing if it worked. The gamble paid off,” he says.
It’s easy to see why it did. Joshi is a writer who believes in a simple diktat: write what and who you know about. There are joint families, similar to his own Gujarati background, and his central women figures — mild yet strong, strict yet loving — are much like his own mother and wife. “My mother was the matriarch of the family. She had a rough hand with us but loved us too. I used to trust her instincts when I was younger, now I trust my wife’s. I usually do what she says,” he smiles. “And it’s obvious that my characters are like them — the VIPs.” And surprisingly progressive for Indian entertainment as they have taken harsh decisions. “People need jerks in a story that may not always be appreciated. But writers need resistance. In Pavitra…, the duo get married, divorced and marry again. A character gets an abortion as she would rather choose her career. I keep up with the times.”
But that’s where a paradox creeps in and suddenly, Joshi appears like an onion without a skin. Though he admires the ambitious middle-class woman as she exists today, he wishes she would imbibe the “ideal bahu” traits from his Tulsi or Archana. So is he just making them progressive to cash in on the “scandal”? “My characters tell their own truth,” he says. And just before you start changing your opinion of him, Joshi adds, “I mean they can be both modern and traditional.” What could also be working for Joshi’s stories is the thin line his characters tread between good and bad. “No one is bad. Only situations make them bad. Take the character of Ajit, Manav’s sister’s husband in Pavitra… He rapes Manav’s sister and marries her. But when he loses all his money, he realises his wife is important to him,” says Joshi.

‘Like my shows, my family too lives by a strict moral code. If my son enters a live-in relationship, I will disown him,’ says Joshi

It is at this moment that his 22-year-old son enters the room, and the father in Joshi takes over. He gives him cash and tells him to go and have a good time. Once he leaves, Joshi muses, “I set a strict code of morals for my family. If my son ever entered into a live-in relationship, I would disown him because he is not committing to the girl,” he says, “My wife married me when I used to earn Rs. 60 a month, and now it’s six figures. She is my heart and soul. I want my son to feel like that about someone.”
Along with relationships, Joshi’s soaps revolve around two important pillars — karma and the belief in God. But here he surprises us again. Joshi hasn’t been to a temple for months now. “God is everywhere. When you ask your mother to bless you, she becomes God. And karma is obvious, right? I experience it every day. I borrowed some money from a person a few years ago and forgot to return it. Just recently, I paid him five times that figure!”
The ‘Rajuisms’ are indeed believable. After all, his success is for everyone to gauge. Even his actors, who have now become stars, thank him. Ankita Lokhande, who plays Archana in Pavitra…, gushes, “I walk on the road and people recognise me as Archana.” Her co-star, Sushant Singh Rajput, says, “Playing Manav is a yardstick. I suffer from Manav hangover all day.” Ironically, he was recently caught in a brawl in Mumbai that ended with newspaper headlines claiming he was nothing like the real Manav.
This begs a question. How does Ekta Kapoor, the bold in-your-face woman that we have heard about, agree with all that Archana and Joshi’s other heroines stand for? How does the master producer (she describes Joshi as “one of the best writers on television. It’s like what’s happening in the show is happening in people’s lives”) get convinced that Joshi’s self-sacrificing characters will work with India’s increasingly cynical audiences? “Ekta knows women have many shades. She may be nothing like Archana but she knows that Archanas exist. Her observation of the middle-class is astute. She is a businesswoman, so she needs to be strong. But Archana can be milder,” says Joshi.
The writer has now turned producer for Zee’s brand new entrant, Sanskaar Lakshmi — a tale of a village belle who moves to Mumbai with her rich husband’s family, and will now instill sanskaar in each member. If it sounds a bit too much like a rehashed Kyunki…,Joshi doesn’t care. He says, “I want to prove that even a girl wearing jeans has morals. That’s because having sanskaar doesn’t mean she covers her head. It means keeping everyone happy. Like my other shows, this too will soon change the world!”
Banan is Senior Correspondent, Mumbai with Tehelka
aastha@tehelka.com

Caught in the quicksand

By
Aastha Atray Banan
-

Ramdas Ghadegaonkar, 43, NANDED, MAHARASHTRA
Murdered for: Exposing a sand mafia case
Aastha Atray Banan
IN NANDED, contractors from the ‘sand mafia’ were illegally mining sand. It was then that Ramdas Ghadegaonkar filed a police complaint that went unnoticed. This was followed by an RTI application that finally forced the district administration to act. It is believed the contractors had to pay 15 lakh in penalty. As for Ghadegaonkar, he was found dead in a ditch. The police claimed it was an accident. Rumours have it that he was stoned to death. As his 14-year old son Raju says, Ramdas just wanted to help people.

Vote hero

By
Aastha Atray Banan
-

Hari Prasad, 42, Hyderabad
TARGETED FOR: Exposing loopholes in the EVMs
Aastha Atray Banan
PRASAD HAD made a video along with researchers from Michigan that revealed how Electronic Voting Machines could be tampered with. He also suggested corrective measures to the Election Commission. The wisdom, however, came at a price. In August 2010, he was accused of stealing an EVM and kept in police custody for eight days. ML Tahiliani, the judge who heard his case, says the government seemed more interested in apprehending Prasad than solving the EVM issue. Call it irony, Prasad still dreams of free and fair elections.

The bloodbath Mumbai loves

By
Aastha Atray Banan
-

Aastha Atray Banan visits the city’s latest fight club

Photos: MS Gopal

THE SMOKING AREA outside Studio No 9 of Famous Studios in Mumbai was rife with strange conversations. “Why didn’t he just finish him off?”, “Oh, I felt sorry for the bloke who was bleeding”, “The girl with the plaque cards was hot!”, “No, she could have been way hotter.”
Behind the doors, though, there was no scope for conversation. Loud pumping music and a crowd that was going “oooohhhh”, “yes, yes, yes” along with sounds of some groans and “ewws” gave one a feeling that something out of the ordinary was going on.
And no, there wasn’t a porn movie on! Instead, there were two fighters pounding each other in a ring surrounded by 400 Mumbaikars who could have looked more at home in any of the city’s expensive clubs, or at the Canadian rock singer Bryan Adams concert just a few kilometres away.
But instead they were here, at the Full Contact Championships, organised by Prashant Kumar, the co-founder of Full Contact Entertainment Private Limited. An adman by profession but a mixed martial arts (MMA) exponent for 20 years now, Kumar believes such fight nights will change the way Mumbai sees entertainment.
“It’s such a common thing in the United States. But in India, even MMA is still a fledgling sport. I bring fighters from all over India — from places such as Sangli or Haryana. Here, they are pitted against fighters who are trained in something completely different from them. So a judo expert will fight a kickboxing expert. They get recognition, they get money — it’s a win-win situation,” says Kumar.
He is also quick to point out that the freestyle form is far safer than even boxing. “More people die during boxing. There have been no deaths due to MMA. And I think such events just give these fighters more hope that they can make it. Look at how the crowd reacts.”
Lords of the Ring The crowd had families, couples, kids and young people applauding every bit of the gruesome fight

The well-dressed, well-heeled crowd did seem to be getting the hang of it — thanks to the food counter, the DJ who just would not give up, the freedom to bring your own booze, and then the freedom to boo or cheer your favourite guy in the ring.
Inside the ring, the action was not limited to the fighting — there was a miniskirt-wearing blonde who walked out with plaques signalling rounds 1, 2 and 3, and a mad hatter MC who kept the madness going with some funny and some seriously unfunny one-liners.
Twenty-seven-year-old Ratan Ginwalla, who heads an advertising agency in Juhu, had come to the event with a bunch of colleagues and was surprised at the ‘underground’ feel. “I have seen professional fights in Vegas and to have it in Mumbai is simply out of the world. The first few rounds were a bit thanda (dull), as I think the fighters were not getting too violent. But when the bloodbath began, it was fun. The men were going “kill him, kill him” and the women cringing. I would give up a night at a club any Saturday for this.”
We do not know which women Ginwalla was looking at because not all of them were cringing. Shalu Wadhwa, who works for the event management company Wizcraft, says, “I got some booze and it was rocking!”
Wadhwa had been unsure about attending what she described as “a guy thing”. But once she got here, she lost herself in the action. “The crowd was so good. And the blood didn’t turn me off. Don’t we see worse on television? It’s such an alternate entertainment experience. Mumbai needs it. My only grudge? Why don’t the fighters look like Brad Pitt or Edward Norton?”
THE FIGHTERS may not have even seen Fight Club — the movie Wadhwa is referring to Aslam Nabilal Nadaf, 23, is one of the fighters. He is a BCom student from Sangli, and he assures us he is just doing it for the rush. “It’s so different, and the audience makes it electric. Maza aata hai (I have fun),” he says just before stepping into the ring. But Aslam didn’t get to feel the rush for too long. His shoulder got dislocated in the first five minutes and he tapped out of the bout.
Businessman Nirav Shah who got his 11-year-old son to the fight was glad for all the drama. “That’s what makes it fun. It’s a sport as well and it’s great to encourage it. I was not sure my son would like it, but now he wants to bring all his friends along next time. And it’s not bad for him — kids today know everything.”

Shalu Wadhwa had been unsure about attending what she described as a guy thing. But once she got there, she lost herself in the action

It was a unique night. A crowd that included families, couples, kids and a smattering of expats, all got together to drink, eat and enjoy watching a sport that many would consider brutal.
Was it a hit just because Mumbaikars are starved of live events that excite the senses, or does an event like this feed the sadistic sides of our personalities?
Private investor Tarbir Shahpuri, 28, does not care why but is just glad he was there. “It’s not about the fights, it’s about the experience of feeling like you are doing something different. Thanks to the 500 entry, the people you did it with were also sophisticated,” he grins, adding, “But most of all, it was an intense event. And god knows, Mumbai needs the intensity.”
aastha@tehelka.com

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