There is an age to be attained before one is considered ‘ageless’. The highlight of the American Music Awards proved, to our immense satisfaction, the truth behind our homespun truism. It came in the shimmering, striated, stippled vision of a throb our teenage years—Jennifer Lopez. There she was, in a black and sheer catsuit and a new, shorter hairdo, writhing, gyrating, splitting the stage in half with a single, gymnastic throw, moving in and out of the ingeniously cast shadows, overshadowing everyone else. Her unequal partner in the rendition of Pa Ti and Lonely was Colombian singer Maluma—not the lumpy thing the name suggests, but quite a pistol himself. More to the point, at 51, J. Lo fully “freaked out” ABC censors with her free expression. That’s iconic.
Ever since we saw the terribly lanky Prabhu Deva in horribly bagy garb, twisting his limbs out of shape in the song Muqabala Muqabala, 25 long summers back, we knew he was in for orthopaedic trouble. That silent prophecy came true this summer, when he was laid low due to soreness of the legs and the back. Reason: inveterate and unrestrained dancing. But, fittingly, there was a twist. Ministering to him in Mumbai was Dr Himani (who stays in the delightfully named Sakinaka area). The rest is a script for a love story set during the lockdown: a quic dash to Chennai, two months of blissful rest and recuperation and a quiet wedding without song and dance. Moral: if you give yourself to an art, it rewards you in unexpected ways.
No kidding, we shall pitch for all the belles who have descended on seductive Maldives in recent days to congregate for a gorgeous group photo. But to close out this set with an ace, here is Sophie Choudry who, going by the speed with which these photos were uploaded on Instagram, must have run on to the beach right from the tarmac. The sun may have been struggling to rise at this juncture of early dawn, but Sophie is in place to bask in its opening rays—hand held up as a raming device in a classic pose of acute contentment, ankles buried in water and that surprising blue sash over her shoulders setting off her shockingly neon green bikini. She “woke up in paradise”, don’t disturb her peace.
When someone as charmingly effervescent as Rakul Preet Singh—her perfect set of teeth lighting up every frame—loses her shirt in spectacular fashion, you are apt to take note. A flimsy tendril of the Bollywood drug case that held the nation’s flighty attention led to Rakul Preet, and she was questioned by the narcotic police. The brilliant minds running our telly news took that as evidence of guilt.The girl hit back at the ‘fakery’ and went to court, effectively gagging the dyspeptic lot. Then, Rakul took herself away to…Maldives, naturally! The destination of everyone we turn to has enough islands to accommodate them all. Rakul chose a wide canvas, where the azure sky met the sea imperceptibly, the wide promenade all hers to sprawl on. With parents by her side, she lets one rip, as we know her, the tinkle ringing in our ears.