Of late, an alarming number of things has been happening to me. I am no longer able to guess who a blind item in the gossip columns is about. Some of you may be rolling your eyes, but well, I have grown up, like many English educated desi types, yaniki, those who listened to Hindi and English songs both, on a fattening diet of Neeta's Natter, Stardust's most glorious gossip column, which seemed to be populated with people who lived purely by the senses.

They wore daring clothes, had dangerous affairs, uttered unutterable things and set an example of the most devil-may-care kind. A gossip column is a soap opera with a lot more sound, fury and sequins and zero sanskar. The appeal is obvious. Neeta's Natter was also the first place that I saw Hindi and English mixed on the page, as it was in life. It's where I learned the term and the concept bindaas and aspired to it. Some people know what happened in every episode of Star Trek. Other people know who has been in love how many times. It's the same sport.