Why We Broke Up

Dear B.A.

Can you believe we’ve been together well over two decades now? How time flies.

I’m not sure if you know this, but you were my first.

Forbes Life, India, March 2016

Like Hassan, the shy and reticent masseur he played in his debut film 1947 Earth, Rahul Khanna is a man of few words. Sitting at a posh coffee shop in South Mumbai, where ForbesLife India meets him for a freewheeling chat, the VJ-turned-model-turned-actor takes his time to choose his words carefully. But when he speaks, a few sentences to each question, the articulate style icon turns heads with his clarity of thought, just like he does on screen, playing the suave Yousaf Rana in The Americans, an espionage series set in the Cold War era. 

Despite father Vinod Khanna being a Bollywood star, Rahul Khanna never grew up as the “star child”. His introverted nature is reflected in his aversion for all things flashy; instead his wardrobe is replete with pieces that are classic and “conservative”. “I want a long-term relationship with my wardrobe. I love the idea of savouring pieces by reusing them over and over rather than discarding them after just one or two outings,” says the 43-year-old.

While Khanna loves owning beautiful and stylish clothes, he says he dislikes the process of acquiring them. “In show business, so much time is spent on trying on clothes that when it comes to my personal wardrobe, the very thought of shopping exhausts me. So I try and do it as infrequently as possible.” he says. But once he finds something he likes, he tends to buy it in multiples, in case he can’t find it again.

Here’s his masterclass on the 10 must-haves in a man’s wardrobe:

Hurray for Hummus!

I admit, I'm hooked on hummus. This Levantine dish is such a nutritious, healthful snack and I can literally eat tubs of it. Like most people, I used to buy the ready-made variety until I started reading the labels more closely and noticing all sorts of preservatives, additives and artificial ingredients I didn't recognize. I did some research and found that making ones own hummus is, in fact, ridiculously easy. It tastes so much better and fresher when you can control the quality of the ingredients and it's completely vegan. Best of all, it requires no cooking, proving that some of the nicest things in life are often the simplest!

It's not an exact science, so adapt proportions to your own tastes but here's how I make my Roasted Red Pepper Hummus:

• 1 can of chick peas/ garbanzo beans (drained and rinsed but save some of the liquid and a few whole beans to garnish)
• A couple of dollops of tahini (you can buy this in a jar. It's basically sesame seed paste)
• Juice of one lemon
• A few spoonfuls of extra virgin olive oil
• A couple of cloves of garlic (I like the caramelly sweetness of roasted garlic so I roast them in a hot oven for a few minutes, but you can use them raw if you prefer)
• A piece of flame roasted red pepper/ capsicum (again, you can buy this in a jar if you don't want to roast your own)
• Salt
• Paprika or chilli powder

Puree all the ingredients in a blender or food processor with a few splashes of the chick pea liquid. I use the NutriBullet, which is my current favourite new appliance (and what I use to make vegetable blasts). Don't blend it too smoothly — the paste should be a bit coarse. If it's too dry, add more of the chick pea liquid.

Garnish with leftover whole beans, drizzle with more olive oil and dust with the paprika or chilli powder.

I like eating mine with rice crackers, vegetable sticks and the theme from Lawrence of Arabia playing in the background.

Let me know how yours turns out.

Grazia India, April 2015

THOU SHALT NOT DISSERVE PHONE PROTOCOL

In today’s modern times the cell phone has emerged not just as the seminal communication device, but also as a remarkably effective barometer of character. Everything one needs to know about the moral fibre of a person, one can learn by their public cell phone etiquette.

At this point in human evolution, one would think we all have enough awareness and common courtesy to understand the basic tenets of considerate cellphone usage. Unfortunately, there are far too many lost souls who have fallen prey to the sin of Pitiful Phone Protocol. There are those that don’t disable the clicks on their keyboard, purposely choose to have that annoying whistling alert tone, and even those that eschew headphones and, instead, play music on their phone’s speaker.

Yet, by far the worst perpetrators of this sin are the following...

1. THE TRAVEL TALKER
Native habitat: Airport lounges, security lines, shuttle buses, elevators and premium aircraft cabins.
How to identify them: The businessmen and executives who feel they’re so important, the world should know it. They’re the ones repeatedly being asked by harrowed stewardesses to disable their devices. Even though they will eventually and reluctantly turn off their phones, so indispensable are they, that barely has the landing gear made contact with the runway on arrival than they resume bellowing stock transactions, legal negotiations and marketing plans into their Bluetooth headsets with the same fervour one would plan a military coup.
Suggested penalty: Covered in banana oil and locked in the gorilla enclosure of a zoo with a particularly amorous primate.

2. THE GYM TALKER
Native Habitat: On the treadmills, ellipticals and stationary bikes of health clubs.
How to identify them: Usually the entitled wives of the Travel Talkers who, the minute they step on a cardio device have detailed gossip sessions with their friends, berate their domestic staff and complain about their husbands to their mothers loudly on their cell phones. They will glare at you defensively if you shush them and rebuke any attendant who dares to direct their attention to the large sign in front of them that says NO MOBILE PHONES ALLOWED. Perhaps they believe tongue wagging and jaw flapping counts as cardio? A rare treat is when they become so involved in their conversation that they miss a step, stumble and get bucked off the treadmill like a rider off a temperamental horse.
Suggested penalty: Locked into a laughing stock in a public square and pelted with the very rotten vegetables they were, earlier, chastising their cooks for bringing home from the market.

3. THE MOVIE TALKER
Indigenous habitat: Dark, quiet cinema halls.
How to identify them: The most heinous of cell phone offenders, and the reason I refuse to go to a public movie theatre. They are the ones who think nothing of taking and making calls, reading and sending texts and checking Facebook every few minutes throughout a film.
Suggested penance: Unfortunately, if one has reached this stage, there really is no hope for rehabilitation and, like with a rabid dog or a crippled racehorse, the kindest thing to do is to just put them down.

A Life In A Box

I got my first sartorial review one autumn afternoon when I rang the bell of the garden flat of a stately Victorian townhouse in Kensington, London. It was the early-1990s and I had on, what I considered to be, the most stylish outfit I owned: acid washed jeans, a thrift store, plaid, flannel shirt under a distressed, leather motorcycle jacket and my prized Doc Marten boots. But the elderly gentleman who answered the door, immaculate in a dark, pinstriped suit, clearly thought otherwise. He took one look at me with his cloudy eyes, and shook his head with undisguised disdain. “Dear boy,” he sighed, wearily, making not even the slightest attempt at any kind of traditional greeting. “You always dress so workman-like.”

Trip Tips, GQ India, April 2014

1:30PM, Late Check-Out, Bali

How messy is too messy to leave your hotel room? Also, should one tip housekeeping?
Trashing hotel rooms went out with Led Zeppelin’s farewell tour in 1977. Keep in mind, hotels provide housekeeping, not disaster management. As a bit of an OCD neat freak, my problem is the opposite. I have, in fact, had to start messing my hotel rooms up a bit more because on more than one occasion, housekeeping have left without providing service, convinced that another crew had already been in. As for tipping, it’s nice to let them know they’re appreciated, especially if you’ve done something like clogged the toilet, spilled a glass of wine or requested an advance bed linen change after a wild afternoon of passion. Again, I tend to take it to the other extreme. If they leave me extra chocolates on my bedside, I leave a small cash tip on my pillow. If they lay out all my toiletries on a clean, white washcloth, I write them a cheque. If they organize my laundry in the wardrobe by colour, I pledge them a kidney should they ever need one.

People who cut queues and invade my personal space at the airport make me want to punch them. How do I put them in their place without making a scene?
I’m generally a non-violent person, but inconsiderate people bring out my inner Genghis Khan. I say punching is too lax. If someone cuts in front of you, it’s perfectly acceptable to behead them with your boarding pass and then hold up the decapitated head as a warning to anyone else with the same idea. If you’re more Mahatma than Mussolini, I suggest carrying a large backpack and also hanging a camera with a long telephoto lens around your neck to keep co-queuers at bay. If you’re heading to a beach resort, a large swimming tube around your waist would work well, too.

My Insider Guide to Mumbai, Condé Nast Traveller India

My favourite aspects of our city are the sea, architecture & food. It’s sometimes hard to see from within the tangle of indiscriminate over-development and lack of infrastructure but, surrounded by the mystical Arabian Sea, geographically, this is one spectacularly beautiful metropolis. Tune out the ugly concrete structures and focus, instead, on the stunning Victorian and art deco treasures that south Mumbai is home to. And, from street food to fine dining, Mumbai can satisfy the most fanatic foodie.

Culinary Counsel, GQ India, March 2014

I’ve never understood the big deal about sushi. It costs a bomb and never fills you up. What am I missing?
If chocolate is the crack of the gastronomic world, sushi is the smack: It’s just as addictive, and it will cost roughly the same to support either habit. The first time I was invited for a sushi meal, I politely sampled everything that was served, thanked my hosts and then promptly went around the corner and ordered a hamburger. I wish I’d never gone back and given it another try because, soon after, I found my mind wandering to thoughts of it – and before I knew it, sushi had me so inextricably enslaved, I was fielding calls from my accountant who, after seeing my credit card statements, wanted to clarify if I was just a patron of the local sushi joints or an investor.
My advice? Run as far in the opposite direction as you can. If friends suggest sushi for dinner, say you’re allergic; if it’s offered to you at a party, say it’s against your religion. Do whatever you can to resist its siren song. If not, you’re doomed to end up like me: a wasabi-addled chopstick jockey, desperately picking the last grains of vinegared rice off empty sushi platters for two – that you finished, singlehandedly.

The Perfect Margarita

 

It all started with an unwelcome potted plant. It was the middle of a sultry New York City summer and I had been sent one as a gift on the opening night of a play I was in. I’ve never had much of a green thumb, so I wished it good luck, exiled it to the farthest corner of my apartment’s balcony and proceeded to forget all about it.

To Groom It May Concern

Kiehl's Ultimate Man Body Scrub Soap
A manly, drill sergeant of a soap. Just lifting it works your biceps and its built-in scrub particles exfoliate you to within an inch of your life. "If you can't stand the heat, get out of the shower!" you can almost hear it taunting you.

Kiehl's Facial Fuel Sky Flyin’ Foaming Multi-Gel
Tingly, mentholy goodness in this genius 2-in-1 invention. It's a facial cleanser and a shave gel in one, which means packing one less product when I'm on the move.

Kiehl's Açaí Damage-Protecting Toning Mist
I'm not sure what this technically does and only just learned how to pronounce açaí correctly, but, holy spritz, is it refreshing! I use it as an aftershave, after a shower or just as a pick-me-up.

Tom's of Maine Simply White Toothpaste
Fresh and natural with a hint of bohemia.

Kiehl's Creative Cream Wax
A great hair product for someone like me who hates hair products. De-fluffs, gives a nice amount of control and, most importantly, doesn't smell like a pineapple daiquiri.

Lotus Herbals Safe Sun Sunblock Cream, Indian Summer Formula, SPF 30
A good case for not judging a book by its cover. It is light, effective and, true to its name, perfect for the Indian summer. I discovered this by accident while on holiday in Goa and its fresh, clean fragrance always takes me back there. I don’t wear sunscreen every day, but this one is ideal for a week at the beach/ day by the pool/ hike in the hills.

Retro British Airways Anya Hindmarch Dopp Kit
These used to be the British Airways first class amenity kits before they changed the design a few years ago. I absolutely love the screen printed vintage aviation photographs. I hoarded all mine from every flight and have been stockpiling extras from friends and family who are willing to part with theirs. I use them to hold my toiletries in my gym bag and also for packing computer cables and phone chargers.

Fogless Shower Mirror
Much as I hate watching pointless bloodshed, I find not looking in the mirror while shaving just makes it worse. My skin’s sensitive and prone to cuts, so I shave in the shower. The steam softens the beard, making it a less gruesome affair.

Art
For some reason, a lot of my favourite art ends up in my bathroom, including a couple of sketches M.F. Husain had given me, a watercolour done by my grandmother on her honeymoon in the 1940s and an antique wood carving.

Candle
After a Bond Girl in a tub, I think a candle adds the most atmosphere to a bathroom.

What Makes Women the More Powerful Gender?

Snacks. Women always seem to have them. I guess it is because women are genetically programmed nurturers. It could be as innocuous as a box of mints, a granola bar or a bag of airline nuts, but I have yet to encounter a woman whose handbag didn’t contain something edible. There is even that breed of women who will actually carry a whole suitcase full of snacks on long trips overseas. We may timidly mock her to keep up appearances but she is well aware of what a desirable travel companion she is and that hers is the hotel room door we will be sheepishly knocking at when the midnight hunger pangs strike. Minutes after arriving for weekends at seemingly empty beach cottages or hill-station bungalows, a woman will be able to magically conjure up grilled sandwiches and cappuccinos. Us men do not possess this skill. Left to our own devices, we would end up living on potato chips and protein shakes. This is why the female will forever remain the more powerful gender. Men are always hungry and women always have something they can eat.

(From: Marie Claire India's 7th Anniversary Issue, June 2013)

Vogue India, 5th Anniversary Issue, October 2012

 

The piece in plain text, below: 

Suit Up!

My 5 Tips:

1. I rather enjoy time spent with my tailor. Like me, he's a man of few words but is my one stop source for news about important Bollywood happenings. Plus, he shares my views on how a suit should fit. Every few months, I consult with him to see if any parts of me have expanded or shrunk and if my suits need to be adjusted to accommodate that. I recommend anyone who owns suits do the same. Think of it as servicing your suits, much like you would service your car.
   
2. Have your suit professionally cleaned. If you're lucky, it'll be body glitter and lipstick stains that need to come off. If not, red wine and butter chicken. Either way, making sure your suit has visited your dry cleaner before taking it for a spin out on the town, is a good rule of thumb.
   
3. Stuff the body into the deep freeze, wipe off all fingerprints and book passage on a fishing trawler to Guadalajara. Wait, that belongs in a different set of tips...
   
4. Steam your suit if it needs a touch-up. Press your shirt, tie & pocket square. Polish your cufflinks & shoes. I like to lay everything out and take stock before moving onto step #5.
   
5. Assemble it all, give yourself a once over with a lint brush and if you see a nice flower on your way out the door, slip it into your lapel. Then, as Tony Soprano would say, "fuhgeddaboudit!" Go out & enjoy your evening.

(Via Miss Malini & Vogue.in)

The Perfect Dirty Martini

 

As with my taste in humour, I like my martinis dry and dirty.

The dryness of a martini refers to the amount of vermouth used in the drink, with a very dry martini having little or no vermouth.

Noël Coward once said that a perfect martini should be made by “filling a glass with gin, then waving it in the general direction of Italy” (which along with France are the two major producers of vermouth), meaning the less vermouth added to the gin the better the resulting drink.

And a dirty martini contains a splash of olive brine.

Here’s how I mix mine...

You will need:

• A chilled martini glass (a few minutes in the freezer does the trick)
• A splash of dry vermouth (I like Noilly Prat, mainly because its name is so silly)
• A large shot of your favourite gin (or vodka, if you prefer)
• Olive brine to taste (that's the clear, salty juice that olives are bottled in)
• Ice
• A cocktail shaker
• Green olives to garnish (you can use a twist of lemon rind, if you prefer. I won't judge)

Add the vermouth to the martini glass. Swirl it around. Toss it out. (It's best to stand downwind of dinner guests when doing this. Aim for a sink.)

Pour the gin (or vodka), olive juice and ice into a cocktail shaker and shake until chilled (for the fitness conscious, simply holding the shaker while running at 12 km/h on a treadmill will accomplish this, too).

Strain into the vermouth-coated martini glass (or directly into aforementioned dinner guests' mouths, if this is round #3 or higher).

Skewer the olives onto a cocktail pick and drop them into the glass (or rub the lemon twist around the rim and then drop into the glass) as a garnish.

Ahhhh...

Neverheardofya

A few months ago, I was on my way back to New York from an awards show in Toronto.

If you’ve travelled between these two cities, you know that you have to clear US immigration and customs at Toronto airport, itself, before you hand over your luggage and board your flight.

My manager was travelling with me and we had thought nothing of loading all our suitcases onto one trolley before joining the immigration and customs line at Pearson Airport.

I went through immigration first and, as I waited in the customs area, I saw an officer striding up to me.

What I Don't Get About Women

Most baffling to me are their purses. Firstly, handbags have become the new jewelry and often cost as much or more than diamonds. For some reason, I can't help but measure purses in the value of Tata Nanos. When a woman mentions how much her designer purse cost, I think, "Holy Fendi, she's carrying 5 Nanos on her arm!"  And then I imagine it. And it makes me chuckle. 

Then there's what's in those purses. They're either the size of carry-on luggage or else so postage-stamp tiny, you need to squint to make them out. I have seen women carrying around tiny sparkly objects that I could swear look like the little figurines you see in the showcases of old Parsi relatives. Apparently, they have secret latches that pop them open and are like a magician’s hat because, no matter what their size, women’s purses are always filled with vast quantities of mysterious trinkets and treasures. They contain anything you could possibly need -- fistfuls of Splenda, a shot of penicillin, a copy of Tolstoy's War & Peace, the portal to a parallel dimension. However, there is one thing they will never contain and that is a tissue when you’re about to sneeze. There have been innumerable instances when I can feel a sneeze measuring at least 5 points on the Richter Scale about to hit and I throw a look of desperate hope to a woman with a gigantic purse. On every occasion she dives into the inner depths of the bag, rummages around and always comes up with a casual shake of her head and a shrug, leaving me to deal with my own nose tsunami. I do not believe there are no tissues. I believe that this is the female revenge that women are genetically programmed to inflict on men for all the injustices they’ve had to suffer throughout history.
 
The other thing I don't get about women is why they go to the bathroom in packs. A bathroom is not my idea of a social venue and the last place I want company. But yet, I have never seen a woman go to the bathroom alone. There's something very conspiratorial about the whole thing. When you're at dinner at a restaurant, there always seems to be a secret signal (inaudible to the male ear) at which point all the women at the table will jump up, scoop up their purses and march together to the ladies room. They spend an inordinate amount of time in there and they always emerge, fastening up their purses and adjusting their dresses with smug looks on their faces. 

In my mind, their bathrooms are magical wonderlands with champagne fountains and unicorns handing out hand towels. And what exactly happens in there? Were they conducting a séance? Engaging in some sort of debauched Sapphic bacchanal? Is that spy equipment they’re putting back into their bags after averting a world war? Or, most terrifying, could they have been discussing us men?

(From Cosmopolitan India, December 2011)

God & I

Define what God means to you.
The concept of a benevolent, bearded old man up in the clouds who grants wishes as a reward for subservience doesn’t seem logical to me. My concept of God is more of a universal energy, a collective consciousness.
 
What does being religious mean to you?
While I don’t personally believe in any organized religion, I certainly respect others right to. I do, however, think it is problematic when religion gets mixed with politics.
 
How do you connect with God?
God exists in everything around us. I see God in nature, in human invention, in art…
 
What do you think of god men/ gurus? Do you have a guru?
I do believe certain people are more evolved or enlightened than others but I’m not a big fan of the concept of someone calling themselves a guru or allowing themselves to be portrayed as one.
 
If you could meet God, what would you ask him?
I don’t think of God as someone you could meet but, like most people, there are answers I would like to have about things like destiny, suffering and re-incarnation.
 
What’s your relationship with God? Is it temporary or Permanent? Is it like that of a friend or just when in need?
It’s a relationship of awe. Every time I see a spectacular sunset or watch dogs playing or eat a delicious meal, I am overwhelmed by the complexities, intricacies and beauty of the universe.
 
How often do you pray?
I once read somewhere that the purest form of prayer is gratitude and that made sense to me, so I try and be as grateful as possible for as much as possible.
 
Do you have a routine? going to Temple/Dargah or Church once a week?
I visit places of worship for architectural appreciation. Structures like the temples of Khajuraho, the Ajanta-Ellora caves, the cathedrals in Venice are all inspiring to me for their aesthetic, engineering and historic value.
 
Do you have a deity/idol that you pray to?
I pray to the logistical and technological powers that be that I don’t get stuck in traffic, my computer doesn’t crash, I don’t catch a cold or that my flights don’t get delayed.
 
Do prayers get answered?
Not all the time.
 
What do think of spiritual guidance?
Any kind of guidance is helpful. If one is open, I believe you can find spiritual guidance from the most unlikely sources. The advice of an older, more experienced well-wisher, from an insightful book, from a fleeting interaction with a stranger or from just being still and observing the world around you.
 
Have you tried meditation?
All the time. I don’t sit crossed legged and chant a mantra but there are several times during the day when I switch off to everything around me, quiet my mind and reflect. It could be by listening to a piece of music, contemplating the view from my window or composing a tweet. In today’s day and age it’s sometimes impossible to find a place of silence so, very often, one has to find it within oneself.
 
What's your problem with/angst against God?
I don’t have any.
 
If you got to play God, what would you change?
I’d make sure everyone had crystal clear cell-phone reception at all times.
 

(Appeared in The Times of India, October 30th, 2011)

The First #InternationalTwistOff

I've been following Canadian writer @ArjunBasu on Twitter for a while now and enjoyed the novelty of his "twisters" (the term he uses for his 140-character short short stories). Of course, being somewhat of a word-nerd, I wanted to play, too and challenged him to a "twist-off".

Via several emails, over several months, we finally found a date and time that would work for both of us and decided on the following format: 10 chapters ÷ (2 tweeters x 2 continents) = 1 micro-novel. As he was in Montreal and I, in Bombay, we would approach it like a long-distance game of chess with one of us making a "move" in the form of a 140-character chapter (we'd each get 5) that the other had to respond to with their own chapter, keeping the story flowing until the end.

For anyone who likes the esoteric and silly, here's how the first #InternationalTwistOff played out (read from the bottom, up):

Playing The Field

While I have great regard for commitment and monogamy, I must admit that I, myself, have been rather promiscuous.

To The White Bitch Who Stole My Shorts

Dear WB,