Travelling with the stars

[1]

Did a crossword with Kajol, had Katrina request for a review and still waiting to travel with Simi Garewal
She could well be the Most Desired Travelling Companion in the world. Simi

Garewal and I were to board an early morning train to the National Film Archive of Pune, complete some lightning-fast research for a TV documentary on Lata Mangeshkar, and return by the evening train. Arduous but achievable.
So far, we had a chamcha script for the docu, which meant we were hoping that the surest way to her heart was chamchagiri. Pardon the royal we, actually I, was just an apprentice. The eminently courteous Simiji promised a home-baked banana cake, a thermos of coffee (one each), sandwiches (say cheese) and Scrabble to while away the three-hour journey. Perfect.
I unwrapped my cricket whites to coordinate couture styles with the lady in white, only to be told sternly at the last hour, “Lataji has not given us the go-ahead yet, we’ll have to wait and watch.” That was my most desirable journey with a star which didn’t happen. Simiji and I drifted away then, like collegians after their graduation ceremony. No old boy and girl reunion yet.
In the course of journeying with the B-towners, I’ve understood that it’s best to whittle away the long ‘n’ short hours as they come. In the event, during a Mumbai-Singapore-bound flight for an awards function, I strived to pretend that Katrina Kaif in the seat right in front of me, didn’t exist. Then suddenly, she popped her beautiful face up and snapped, “I’m waiting for you to give me a great review.” Huh?
Abracadbra, then KK vanished into the folds of the on-flight blanket. Had I just hallucinated? Mercifully not. On disembarking from the flight, KK wagged a finger at me, “Don’t forget. I’ll be watching out for that great review.” Gloriously she added, “We’ll celebrate.” Er, evidently she hasn’t read my reviews of Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara or Mere Brother ki Dulhan. No celebrations announced yet.
The normally loquacious Kajol — en route from Delhi to home after interviewing Phoolan Devi for a magazine cover story — chose to devour a fat book of fantasy fiction involving sorcerers, fairies, elves, goblins. When she reads, it’s advisable to leave her alone, or risk a killer squelcher like, “Can’t you read also? Try the plane’s safety instructions.” Admit-tedly when she saw me crestfallen, Kajol agreed to jointly solve an evening newspaper’s crossword. No point. I wasn’t her words’ worth, obviously, she solved the crossword herself in a minute, and returned to the goblins. Ouch.
And there was this chicken cutlet with Karan Johar. On a Delhi-Mumbai flight, it was clear as mulligatawny soup that the flight hostesses adored him. Ergo the last non-veg cutlet casserole on board was served to him. I was apportioned a dum aloo biryani. Dear Karan, ever the thoughtful one, berated the hostess for partiality, shuffled the murgh repast to me. Delicious.
Indeed, a trip with Bollywoodkars can be packed with action ‘n’ romance. In the action department, I’ve seen a superstar and his wife resisting a fistbout on board with a mediaperson (not me, for once). Vis-a-vis romance, at the last lap of a flight to Dubai, I’ve monitored a starlet and a struggling actor kiss and make up after an acrimonious break-up. Mega-smoochfest ensued.
Lastly, though, there is a touch of regret. Amrish Puri and I seated cheek by jowl on a flight to London, didn’t exchange half a syllable. He was upset, perhaps justifiably, that he hadn’t won an award for Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge. Like I’m still upset, perhaps justifiably, that the Scrabble-cake-coffee-sandwiches rendezvous never happened with Simiji. And the Lata Mangeshkar documentary was never made.