Liz Hurley's Marriage In Berlin
Liz Hurley's Marriage In Berlin
Follow us:WhatsappFacebookTwitterTelegram.cls-1{fill:#4d4d4d;}.cls-2{fill:#fff;}Google NewsOn one side, the girl with the startling blue eyes, who was earllier eyeing the guy with the freckles, is licking the ends of her straw hair, iPod firmly stuck in her ears.

On the other, the man who was earlier happily frisking sari-clad German-speaking Indian women, is tapping the floor with his right foot. Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap, in one ceaseless, bored sex rhythm.
On the stage, in Berlin to promote Indian tourism, Minister Ambika Soni is saying when Liz married Arun love and Visit Rajasthan was never the same again.

In the heart of Berlin, having bypassed the hello-indian-so-nice greetings, I am thinking I don't want to go back to Mumbai. I want to drive Mercs on these perfect roads, eat Bavarian white sausages with sweet mustard every morning and be polite to everyone.

Soni's Speech is being frightfully disagreeable with my plans.
She is saying never before has India being a better place to visit. She is saying come to us not for the snake charmers, the rope tricks, the elephants, ascetics and tigers (though, god knows, we will show you enough of them in our incredible Incredible India campaign). She is saying come to us to wed you colourless people, we will put a pink safa on your head, make you metro - and sexy, and cover your bosom with one twirl of cloth, help you create Khajuraho make out magic.

She is saying bring your tired asses to us and we will slap warm oil on each of them, get those trans fats out of your system, we will heal you, we will teach you to lust and not be longing, desire but not be dreadful about it. We will, she is saying, get 10 million tourists by 2010.

That, she says, we will our Common Wealth.

That's why, she says, we have put hoardings on every giant space in Berlin (one of them shows a tiger and says 'not all Indians are peace loving, hospitable and vegetarian'), we have filled your buses with Indian On The Move signs, move along, she says, grab a ticket and come to us.

Later I ask Soni - but what about touts who fleece every white skin that they can see, what about beggars stalking tourists, what about the rapes, the stares? She says we are fighting it at every level, every day. We are trying to teach them how to behave. Smile and nod, we are teaching them, the Guest is like God.

She is saying we will give you adventure, water and snow, and when you have enough, some Buddhist meditation anyone, that ciruit is really booming. Part of it is in Bihar, i think, unpatriotically.

But there is little doubt that Soni is gaining converts, waves of applause follow her speech, and Berliners, that most stoic of people, starting dancing to the tabla and the dhol as the evening comes to an end.

Pity I am still not missing Mumbai. The potholes peck at my patriotism.first published:March 10, 2007, 12:38 ISTlast updated:March 10, 2007, 12:38 IST
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On one side, the girl with the startling blue eyes, who was earllier eyeing the guy with the freckles, is licking the ends of her straw hair, iPod firmly stuck in her ears.

On the other, the man who was earlier happily frisking sari-clad German-speaking Indian women, is tapping the floor with his right foot. Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap, in one ceaseless, bored sex rhythm.

On the stage, in Berlin to promote Indian tourism, Minister Ambika Soni is saying when Liz married Arun love and Visit Rajasthan was never the same again.

In the heart of Berlin, having bypassed the hello-indian-so-nice greetings, I am thinking I don't want to go back to Mumbai. I want to drive Mercs on these perfect roads, eat Bavarian white sausages with sweet mustard every morning and be polite to everyone.

Soni's Speech is being frightfully disagreeable with my plans.

She is saying never before has India being a better place to visit. She is saying come to us not for the snake charmers, the rope tricks, the elephants, ascetics and tigers (though, god knows, we will show you enough of them in our incredible Incredible India campaign). She is saying come to us to wed you colourless people, we will put a pink safa on your head, make you metro - and sexy, and cover your bosom with one twirl of cloth, help you create Khajuraho make out magic.

She is saying bring your tired asses to us and we will slap warm oil on each of them, get those trans fats out of your system, we will heal you, we will teach you to lust and not be longing, desire but not be dreadful about it. We will, she is saying, get 10 million tourists by 2010.

That, she says, we will our Common Wealth.

That's why, she says, we have put hoardings on every giant space in Berlin (one of them shows a tiger and says 'not all Indians are peace loving, hospitable and vegetarian'), we have filled your buses with Indian On The Move signs, move along, she says, grab a ticket and come to us.

Later I ask Soni - but what about touts who fleece every white skin that they can see, what about beggars stalking tourists, what about the rapes, the stares? She says we are fighting it at every level, every day. We are trying to teach them how to behave. Smile and nod, we are teaching them, the Guest is like God.

She is saying we will give you adventure, water and snow, and when you have enough, some Buddhist meditation anyone, that ciruit is really booming. Part of it is in Bihar, i think, unpatriotically.

But there is little doubt that Soni is gaining converts, waves of applause follow her speech, and Berliners, that most stoic of people, starting dancing to the tabla and the dhol as the evening comes to an end.

Pity I am still not missing Mumbai. The potholes peck at my patriotism.

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