I can't write a book about Slumdog India

Siddharth Dhanvant Shanghvi's new book, The Lost Flamingoes of Bombay, is a salacious, spicy but surprisingly real portrayal of the milieu he's a part of Mumbai's swish set. He tells italk what he'd say if society bigwigs confronted him about caricaturing them

Siddharth Dhanvant Shanghvi's new book, The Lost Flamingoes of Bombay, is a salacious, spicy but surprisingly real portrayal of the milieu he's a part of Mumbai's swish set. He tells italk what he'd say if society bigwigs confronted him about caricaturing them

Sitting in his posh, sparsely-furnished studio apartment in the suburb of Juhu, Siddharth Dhanvant Shanghvi looks fairly relaxed for someone whose second book has just hit stores. "My book was released, and I wasn't even here. Would you believe it!" exclaims the 31 year-old author, who was in the Maldives to attend a close friend's wedding. "I have this feeling... nobody will come for my reading tonight," he whispers modestly. But he knows, come they will. Some, because his last novel, The Last Song of Dusk, had been the toast of the town.

Siddharth Dhanvant Shanghvi at his Juhu residence. pics/NARENDRA DANGIYA

And others because they are sure they feature somewhere in his chronicle of the rich and the famous.

"I wanted to serve a story that was about the India I inhabit, the here and now where families are breaking down, friendships flourish, where sexuality is tested and inhabited, where being single is the order of the day, where infidelity is not what happens to the neighbour it's what you're doing with the neighbour, actually!" he smiles. He's not familiar with Slumdog India, or the version of an India presented through a western lens of poverty and oppression, he says unabashedly.

The Lost Flamingoes of Bombay follows the life of photographer Karan Seth, and the characters he meets actress Zaira; lovely but tormented by unrequited love, a brilliant but troubled pianist named Samar, his neglected boyfriend Leo, and a confused trophy wife, Rhea.

So, what was that about this being his second and last book? "I really don't know. I feel like getting a day job, becoming an investment banker, maybe. For now, it's all about the Lost Flamingoes of Bombay."

Book Excerpts
Clad in a Black-Berry suit, his short hair stylishly mussed up, Samar Arora was talking animatedly to Mantra Rai, the controversial columnist and author. Leo McCormick, Samar's boyfriend, had just asked Mantra her views on the recent efforts of the right-wing government to rename the city: "Bombay" would soon be whitewashed into "Mumbai". Within minutes the trio had got worked up over the city's possible rechristening, and another angle was added to their debate as Priya Das, a newly-elected member of parliament, joined them. The heated debate was interrupted by a sudden, loud squeal of delight. Editor of a fashion Bible, Diya Sen, had long naughty legs, and a giggle as shiny as a penny in the sun.

"I want to show you my tattoo. Now!" "Well thenu2026" Samar threw his hands up in the air. "What's stopping you?"

In one quick, smart motion Diya unzipped her black dress and let it fall to her feet, where it gathered in a desultory heap. Hiking up the succulent left cheek of her butt, encased in white lacy knickers, she said, "It's Capricorn, my star sign."

A politician called Priya, the typical fashion magazine editor, and a bitchy columnist don't you think readers will recognise the real people behind the characters?
Siddharth: This is a piece of fiction. Whatever readers see as an echo from real life, is their takeaway; I'm not responsible for it. But I can appreciate their curiosity.u00a0

Is it fair to be judgmental about a "society" you write about, when you in fact, you belong to that world?
Siddharth: It's a style of writing, I think, because when you don't say something, you are actually saying something. Besides, the more full-bodied a character, the easier it is to inhabit his head and manifest things he would have much rather said, but didn't, thanks to decorum. Now that's an interesting space to occupy, because you know your characters enough to articulate not only what they will say but what they will not: this means you are no longer thinking what dialogue to write. You are actually sitting in your character's head.

For much of the day, Zaira had been filming with the sumptuous leading man of the day, Shah Rukh. The director was wrapping up the last scene for the day; Shah Rukh and Zaira were to roll around in a bed, making out to a raunchy AR Rahman number. Malik had stormed on to the set. He was calling out for Zaira and shouting invectives saala, ma ka l'''' at Shah Rukh. It was later discovered that Malik had rammed her trailer so many times with the rear end of his jeep that it was left worthy only of scrap.

Calls at 2.00 am seldom brought good news, and the nation's Minister of Labour and Employment braced himself for what was to come. "Why did you go in the first place?"

"I'd heard Zaira was going to be there as a bartender for the night. I was desperate to see her." "And? What did she say?"

"She said the bar had closed and she couldn't serve me alcohol." Malik was whining now."She was acting so damn pricey, Dad. She turned me down simply because she thought I was a nobody."
"I shot Zaira in the head." He collapsed in sobs. "I shot her in the head."

Is this passage inspired by the Jessica Lal murder case?
Siddharth: That's your perception. You are free to feel what you think. For me, it's fiction.

But for those who do see glimpses of the Jessica case, do you think it comes across as insensitive?
Siddharth: I wanted to try and understand, within a fictional space, what happens to small lives when big events are thrust on them. Society scumbags who believe they were served the short end of the stick, actually deserve to be beaten with it.

Karan stood next to Samar, who stared fixedly at Zaira's grave. Leo noticed an endless entourage of mourners actors, producers, directors, editors of magazines, journalists, socialities all nattily turned out. Most conspicuously, in a corner, clad in cool white salwar-kameezes and black shades, were Tara and Nalini Chopra, crying softly, inviting sympathy from bystanders and provoking shutterbug mania.

You have taken an amusing dig at many people, especially Delhi socialites. If they were to approach you, what would you say?
Siddharth: Whoever thinks they are caricatured in my book, are flattering themselves or they need to up their delusion medication. Besides, Delhi socialites caricature themselves so marvelously, that any dig I make, will pale in comparison.

Rhea said, "Samar has a boyfriend..." The candles lurched out of Karan's hands and he sat on his haunches to gather them. "Yes, I know. I have met him."
"Does that bother you?"
"Nou2026nou2026not at all. To each his own."
"Are you cool with Leo?"
"Wellu2026" He grew red-faced. "What are you insinuating?"
"Well, to be blunt, I think you're not comfortable with Samar because he has a boyfriend."

What kind of a comment do you think you are making on homosexuality? Are you saying straight men suffer from homophobia?
Siddharth: Perhaps Rhea recognises in Karan, a cagey discomfort for Samar and his boyfriend, Leo. Now, this is not necessarily the same thing as hatred. It's a fear of the unknown. And laziness, on Karan's part, to explore and understand what is not only a sexual ethos, but a culture of love unlike his own. You cannot club down the remark to homophobia, but a sort of heterosexual insularity that doesn't allow Karan to peer across his own sexual arc.

A lot of straight men like Karan fear men like Samar, because they fear being the subject of another man's lust.
u00a0
Flamingoes, thousands of them, were flying by in a giant skein. Karan took out his camera from its case and furiously clicked the scene around him. Standing amidst the storm of rose petals, with the flamingoes above him, Karan thought: So this is Bombay, monster muse, part witch, part clown, always absurd, often charming u2014 my rogue ballad; this is Bombay, meri jaan.

Your book speaks volumes about your love for Bombay. What is it that draws you?
Siddharth: Oh, the green spaces and clean air? Just kidding. Actually, my love affair with the city is coming to a close. I'm ready to head out. But when I'm away, what I'll miss most is this city's neurotic charm; it's part charlatan, part revolutionary; it's completely ironic and absolutely sentimental, and this gives Bombay the edge of jazz when it was still all about the blues.

Siddharth Dhanvant Shanghvi will read excerpts from his book at the British Council at 7 pm today.
Call: 22823530u00a0