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I am going to win the Booker next
year. I was toying with the idea of the Nobel too, but two
prizes would be too much money.
The novel is about my kitchen.
It is a complex narrative about the many masalas I use,
in Hindi, and explained in the glossary. But it is actually
about the politics of masalas.
Through the narratives of a love
affair between a caste Hindu girl and a subaltern peacock,
of a carpet soaked in rich dal and memories, of a small
town trembling with communal tension in the backdrop, of
havelis bent on telling their autobiographies, of
what happened between a pair of old intricate lace curtains
and an armchair my grandfather never could sit on, of a
detailed discourse on the social forces that lead to the
birth of a terrorist and of the dhaniya murgh (coriander
chicken) that my grandmothers sister cooked, my novel
will explore the question: Why does garam masala dominate
Indian cuisine?
It could be rephrased as: Why,
oh why, does garam masala have to be the flavour of India
in every international market, even with books and films?
I will call my novel Koh-I-Noor,
after the famous basmati rice brand, and all the Is
and s will be italicised.
But the most exciting question
is, what will I do with the Rs 42 lakh that I will get?
Honestly, I dont know. There will be some money to
give away as tax, but there will still be several lakhs
left.
Dont get me wrong. I want
the money. But for me all numbers that end up in more than
six or seven zeroes look the same and that is why I prefer
them to be written in words rather than figures.
So I have a gameplan ready for
spending the money. I will spend them on big things.
First I will change my profile.
To improve it, I will drop my husband of many years and
get a boyfriend. It will cost a lot.
I will buy a wardrobe. It will
be an enormous wardrobe, hollow and deep, made of sturdy
teakwood, with chambers, walls and corridors. When the world
will get too much, I will be able to walk into it, wander
inside and stay there.
I will pack into its cavernous
depths all the loose ends of my life. I dont want
so many of the clothes that fill up the racks of my current
wardrobe. I am not interested in them; but neither can I
throw them away. Is that the definition of loose ends? Anyway,
I will throw them in and forget them.
I will throw in all the cassette,
CD and DVD covers without anything inside that I have accumulated
over the years.
I will pack in my EMIs into the
wardrobe. Before that, I will make a grand visit to the
bank, wearing a kanjivaram, and sign off the cheque
with such a flourish that the woman behind the counter who
infuriates me with her unfailing composure and smugness
will be forced to drop her jaw.
I will buy the biggest thing on
wheels that I can — a bus. I will fit it with Bose speakers.
I will build a bus stand, where the bus will wait, always
ready to leave. Thats the best thing about travel
— to know that you can take off any moment you want to.
I will also buy an auto-rickshaw.
Because an auto can get into places no other vehicle in
the world can.
I will go shopping. I will buy
something I have always wanted. I am ready to spend several
lakhs on it.
It will be the wig of my dreams.
It will be made of the best south-east Asian hair, long,
black and straight. But when I will wear it, and toss my
head, I will cast a dream. I will be Rekha.
Then, I will start on a long journey.
When I was very young, an uncle gifted me a doll. She was
a beautiful doll, a blonde in a bridal dress, holding a
bouquet of tiny white flowers. She had very fine features.
I used to look at her for hours. At night, I used to put
her back gently inside her cardboard box, while the other
dolls slept outside. She was my sister. No, more than that.
But then I forgot about her. Her
nose got rubbed in, her neck started to wobble and her white
chiffon dress had gone grey. The lace came off. When I looked
at her next after many years, she looked scary. I tried
to fix her up. But it was not possible.
I will take her up again. I will
travel the world with her. I will get her neck and nose
done. I will get her the dress she once wore. I will spend
all I have on the happy ending.
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