Column

Ten years ago when I arrived in Mumbai after spending eight years in Kolkata and Delhi, I will not be exaggerating when I say that I came in for a huge culture shock.

Mumbai had changed beyond recognition while I was away and fresh from the genteel bhadralok milieu of Kolkata and the literary/cultural sophistication of Delhi’s embassy influenced life, Mumbai with its lethal combination of showbiz glamour and sleaze left me reeling.

Who were all these people I wondered, these deejays and veejays and beauty queens and fitness gurus and socialites and where on earth had they sprung up from?

When I had left Mumbai it had still been a fairly genteel city, with an exclusive elite South Mumbai domination. Now I gathered that the entire axis of the city had changed and in the ensuing cacophony all the old rules were up for grabs.

It did not help of course that I didn’t have a soft landing: a month after I landed I was editing the Bombay Times -the official newsletter for Mumbai’s Page Three!

Now, not only did I have to read about the antics of this new breed of people - I had to interact with them daily and cover their lives minutely.

I had no time for inhibitions or hesitations. I was in neck deep, and there was no turning back.

I decided to go with the flow. If the city wanted glam-bam-and-thank-you-ma’am, by God I was going to give it to them. As a journalist my job was to record new phenomena to the best of my ability, not pass judgment over them.

So in came the fashionistas, the make-up queens, the party animals, the legends in their own lunch times, the hostesses with the mostest yen for publicity, the whole nine yards of it.

But somewhere in a corner of the paper I kept a little space to reflect on what I was seeing and experiencing. Privately I called it my way of coming to terms with a city that I often saw as being out of control.

And here on many occasions I found myself writing on mental health issues. For believe me, behind the glam and the glitz I saw so many people out of control and in very real need of professional help.

Achingly lonely models, coke-crazy stars, fake marriages, out of control social climbing, low self-esteem and eating disorders were all grist for my mill.

And ten years later, I am sorry to say, things have only gotten worse: the pace of the city more frantic, the ambitions more ruthless and the human connectivity less apparent.

Where will it all lead? Is anyone out there concerned about what happens to the party people once the party is over?

Next time you see a Page Three snapshot at a high voltage do, pause a while to see if you spot the shadows behind the smiles. You will be amazed at what you find.

s_malavika@dnaindia.net