Stars and their phones

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No BlackBerry, no ping, no cry. I’ve seen filmwallas and wallis turn blue in the face, complaining, “But do I have to know this?” Guess not, specially if you have no curiosity at all about Aditya Chopra’s gym schedules and Mallika Sherawat’s travel itinerary. Sure cute baby pix do show up on BB but they’re promptly printed in the next day’s papers. Too much exposure to the same pix can be hazardous.

Now some celebrities are born with silver cell phones in their mouth, others aren’t. And they have their blacker than coal moods, using language ranging from Emily Post-like politesse to the unadulterated mc-bc. To disclose a secret — only partially, since I’m extremely fond of her — a heroine with a barfi-sweet, gharelu image is an expert gandi gaaliwaali.
So I’ve detected a pattern in setting up these interviews with the sitares. First, you must possess a phone — there was a time when MTNL was very MEANTNL about allocating lines — and then you must possess the star’s phone number. Landline calls are only answered by yells, “Bola na madame...saheb are in shower... what?... what do you mean together or separately? Idddiot man you are.” Receiver banged.
Just for the record, I will tell you of my most horrifying and delightful phone experiences, starting with the positive ones of course. Film industry people are like that.

GREAT CONNECTIONS:
Undoubtedly, the Bachchans have the best phone manners in the show world. Leave a message with the operator, and your call will be returned, if it is of any consequence. Bonus: AB’s legendary voice sounds as fantastic as it does on the Dolby speakers. I’ve heard enough for a lifetime. Thanks.
Source of constant amusement, a domestic help at Asha Bhosle’s Peddar Road apartment sounds as angry as the Mangeshkars do about the proposed flyover. When I call, she does not fail to quiz me, “Khaali? What type of name is this?”
Shah Rukh Khan, too-busy-too-busy but out of the blue will make sudden contact. Rishi Kapoor will call out of the blue to tell me what a good person I am, how he liked something I wrote, and that I deserve the entire crate of Emilion wine at his home which will turn to vinegar, if I don’t drop by soon. Whenever I’m low, Chintu boosts the shred of my ego.
Kareena Kapoor, hot on the SMS front, will respond: “My dr khld hw u whr u luvz ksses, bk in a wk frm Kl Lmpr v mst mt sn”, but has never kept her word. Tabu, not regular, but will crack in-jokes. How u hoo types. Celina Jaitly, was again more on SMS than direct conversation, but then she fled for an Euro-marriage. No trace since then.
Rekha. Leave a message on the landline. If she cares for you, she’ll dial back. Or else keep you in suspense.

FRUSTRATING CONNECTIONS:
Sushmita Sen is the uncrowned queen of Miss No Phone Universe. Anyone who can touch base with her, on the first try, deserves to be garlanded with marigold garlands at a public function.
Viveik Oberoi, accessible only a week before a film’s release, to talk about nothing but the film’s release. Yawn. Govinda? Never tried. Circa 8 pm, a man in Dilip Kumar’s bungalow, will say, “Just hold on.” The longest pause since Dilip Kumar in Devdas follows, you hear some shuffles, clashes of pots and pans in the kitchen, hours pass, it’s nearly dawn before the man says, “Saab is sleeping.” At 4 am, I should think so. Sanjay Leela Bhansali will talk only a day after his film’s release, only to those who have gone bonkers over his masterpiece. And that, in very brief, is the story of Bollywood phone and games.