Khalid Mohamed

H is parties were casual. No cloaked agenda. No celebrity guests pix featured in the day after’s newspapers. Just abundant food, choice spirits and crackling conversation.

Yash Chopra’s Juhu-Vile Parle bungalow witnessed slap-up evenings down the year, but they were kept under wraps.
The late movie moghul was what is called a ‘dildaar’ man at his impromptu dinners. And it is quite likely that the upcoming Diwali will be celebrated — if at all — in Bollywood on an austere note. Not that the festival of lights has ever been brought in again with the kind of shine -‘n’-splendour associated with Raj Kapoor. Be it Holi or Diwali, the RK cottage would be the place to be.
Not that I was ever there, got to know RK saab too late in the day. And in any case, I can’t keep my eyes open after 1 a.m. which is when the shebangs get going. Still, believe it or snore, I did land up at a nightclub because Riya Sen insisted that she would be disappointed if I didn’t show up. Feeling very much like Salman Rushdie — who had sparked headlines by chatting up Baby Sen — I arrived on the dot of 1.05 a.m. The joint was deserted, except for the waiters who scoffed at me for being so early. An hour later, the birthday girl cooed into my ear, “Oh, you’re the only one here.” Either, the rest hadn’t shown up, or would be there at the crack of dawn.
But heck come on, it’s only the wet blanket who complains about the late very late revelry. Take it or heave it. To be honest, I have tried to qualify for the cool, no-sleep-no-worry club. In vain. In fact, in a way that provoked the sole compliment I have ever received from the otherwise awfully insulting Mr Sajid Khan.
Sajid bhai was the second one to arrive at one of those hotel mezzanine ballroom events, circa 2 a.m. Noticing me catching 40 winks in a corner sofa, he prodded my rib cage to say cheerfully, “Good morning,” and added, “In your suit, you’re looking like a business tycoon sleeping on an airflight.” Business tycoon? Wow. That kept me wide awake for the rest of the night...or was it day?... and enticed me to dance with Genelia D’Souza, unmarried then. Riteish Deshmukh glared.
Besides the timing — and to be fair that extends to parties in any profession — what else curls my toes? Absolutely nothing. Indeed, I respect the Herculean amount of organisation, and savoir faire to carry off a party on a grand scale. Like Gauri Khan has repeatedly. Bollywood’s Lady No. 1 has made super-hits of her parties for visiting Hollywood actors, cricketers, showbizwallas and assorted buddies. So there I was, dancing away madly with Kajol to the tune of remixed Bachchan chartbusters. Er...
In retrospect, of course I’m embarrassed about this public display of temporary madness, but Gauri and SRK had assured me that I should go ahead and have loads of fun. Hopefully, since then I’ve grown up, turned serious, and satiated with enough fun for a lifetime.
Vis-a-vis Diwali parties specifically, I’ve heard about the legendary all-night Diwali card parties at Jeetendra mansion, attended by Rishi Kapoor and Prem Chopra. Can’t play cards, nor have I been invited.
But yes, there is one Diwali card party I do remember. Dimple Kapadia and her gang had kept an open house. While they played rummy, I read a Roald Dahl from her library, tucked into the pyramid of biryani on the dining table, and said brightly, “Happy Diwali.” I’m not sure if I was seen... or heard.