Ho Ho Ho…
Winter break is upon us and I can already hear the jingles of a culture learned from American cinema. Flocks of penguins are all set to scatter like migratory birds—propelled by credit card points. We're all chasing the standard of cool set by Javed Akhtar’s children. He, meanwhile, is still busy debating God with the pundits. (I mean, what's even the point when we all know the eternal truth—money. But more on that in another column.)
Back to the Akhtar kids. They landed in India some years ago, now bent on teaching us what the good life is. They relish moving the goalposts of a good vacation—one movie at a time. It started with Goa, then it was Spain, and before we could get our slice of the Tomatina, they changed the definition of cool to slumming it with rappers from Chembur. My Slumdog vacation will have to wait. I'm yet to catch up. Bhaag Abiha Bhaag!
Summer was Europe—did you not see the Amalfi Coast reels and Santorini sunsets? Money well spent! Some (voices in my head) say it came out as an ugly display of I-finally-made-it validation. But I don't care for introspection too much—it's a short life and I've crossed over to the wrong side.
Winter, by the way, is Southeast Asia. I don't make the rules, people! Just go for it—Bali villas, Krabi beaches, Hanoi street food tours. All the places cheaper, none less crowded with Indians. You want to see white people? Try Landour. The colonizers built our hill stations a certain way so they could keep coming back and still feel at home. But they may have to get used to the golden voice of GOAT Diljit on the woofers.
