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