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LIVING, MUMBAI
WOMEN
Work
Hard Play Harder
They
are successful, single, sexy and savvy. Women in the metro's upper echelon
are living life queen size.
By
Anupam Chopra and Sheela Raval
It's
a typical monsoon night in Mumbai. Angry skies, sheets of rain, water-clogged
streets and snarled traffic. None of which is changing Ravina Raj Kohli's
mind. Kohli, 30-something, is the in coming CEO of Nine Broadcasting India
Private Ltd, Kerry Packer's foray into Indian TV. She's taken in eight
meetings today. She's played hard ball with producers and been analytical,
precise and resolutely firm.
But right
now, she's singing. It's karaoke night at a hot south Mumbai club and
Kohli, in a shimmering lacy black top, is occupying centrestage. She's
obviously having a great time. A nattily dressed man at the next table
exclaims, "What oomph, man."
Kohli is
a Bombay babe. Single, successful, sexy, savvy. By day, they are hardcore
professionals, working long hours, matching their male colleagues in strength,
street smartness and resolve. But if you're thinking power suit with no
soul, you're wrong.
That haloed
male executive motto, work hard and party hard, is now equally a chick
thing. At night they are socialites, slipping from sari to strapless with
ease. It's dinners, discos, pubs and clubs. Fun mixed with dollops of
absolutely essential networking.
But the
dated stereotype of the doggedly dowdy feminist is out. This is a post-feminist
generation of women who revel in being female. After all, style is also
power. So it's personal trainers, designer labels and killer attitude.
Often occupying space in society columns, they bring buzz and vivacity
to Mumbai. Are they butterflies? Absolutely. But only in that classic
Muhammad Ali sense of "floats like a butterfly and stings like a
bee".
Kohli's
not alone. Meet Sameera Anand, 31, vice-president, ICICI Securities and
Finance. Anand, one of the top investment bankers in Mumbai, cuts business
deals with uncanny precision. Clad in saris -- "people in the finance
field are still traditional so you can't afford to look too hip"
-- she manoeuvres crores of rupees casually. But her evening avatar is
unrecognisable. The saris give way to mini skirts and lycra and she becomes
"an energetic butterfly with multiple interests". Anand is a
regular at Mumbai's current "in" disco Fire-N-Ice. Some day,
she hopes to start her own company.
Rina Shah,
25, already has. Shah started her accessories line of high-end shoes and
handbags "as a hobby" in 1997. Today, Rinaldi, with clients
like the Ambani women and a host of Bollywood actresses, is synonymous
with upmarket chic. But there is life beyond shoes. Shah candidly says
that she parties "way too much".
As Kohli
puts it, "In Mumbai, the conversation piece is not your solitaires
but your job." Even women who are to the manor born work. Sonia Garware
describes herself as "a second-generation socialite". But her
ambition is to be "queen of the boardroom". So the 29-year-old
daughter of industrialist Shashikant Garware downs three cups of coffee
and starts work at 9.30 a.m. as head of the Suncontrol division. She hopes
to achieve the "businessperson of the year" title before she's
45.
Rachna Narang,
35, who comes from the famous hotelier family never imagined she would
work. "I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth," she says.
But after her mother's death, her brother Sanjay coaxed her to take up
business responsibilities. The duo run the Mars Restaurant chain. She
is presently setting up a boutique hotel with 30 rooms and three restaurants.
Ekta Kapoor
dumped the silver spoon early. The 25-year-old daughter of filmstar Jeetendra
dropped out of college at 18 and embarked on a career in TV. Today, Balaji
Telefilms, which she heads, is a hotshot production house that churns
out 15 serials and Kapoor, who dons business suits for meetings so that
people will take her more seriously, dreams of heading a "media empire".
Kapoor parties two or three times a week. But her idea of a good time
is slightly different: at times, she simply packs 15 people in a car and
drives to town with the music blaring.
In typical
Bambaiya fashion, the work ethic is firmly in place. But so is the urge
to party. Paulomi Sanghavi, the 28-year-old owner of Paulomi's Treasures,
a tony jewellery store, heads out every weekend. She prefers dinners over
discos but going out is essential. "My business is very demanding.
Being unsocial doesn't really help." Dilshad Pastakia agrees. Pastakia,
31, is Mumbai's high priestess of hairstyling. Clients like Shah Rukh
Khan, Hrithik Roshan, Karisma Kapoor, Raj Thackeray and Smita Thackeray
trust only her with their locks. Waiting time for an appointment: a week.
Pastakia
works seven hours a day but the weekends are her own. "I meet 17-18
complete strangers a day," she says, "You need relief. I go
out at least twice a week." Shah doesn't wait for weekends. Driving
her Honda City herself, she hits the happening places. "I just love
meeting people," she says.
Exactly.
Partying doesn't mean the mind-obliterating-drink-till-you-puke teenage
version. It means having fun but also networking. And it doesn't hurt
when photographs grace the society pages the next morning. No one actively
solicits the press but they are savvy enough to understand that the right
type of visibility furthers business. In fact Garware writes a weekly
column in Mid-Day newspaper called "Sonia Speaks". What does
she speak about? Mostly about the parties she attended that week.
These women
put the zing into Mumbai nights. Canadian vice-consul Sanjeev Chowdhary,
an "inveterate networker", says that their mere presence "brings
the conversation to a new level of sophistication". Other men are
equally impressed. Aditya Kilachand, son of that consummate Bombay Babe
Shobha De, says, "Mumbai women are on the cutting edge compared to
their counterparts in other cities. They're sassy and well-travelled,
bringing a lot of international flavour to the social scene." Vishal
Gondal, the 23-year-old CEO of Indiagames.com, sums it up: "They
surely light up the night life."
Not just
with their sparkling conversation. The smart woman knows that while you
get respect for cutting a good deal, you are also respected for cutting
a dashing figure. Not for them the clich s of unwaxed feminists in cotton
kurtas and kolhapuris. These women are as focused on their looks as their
work. Personal trainers, who can fit exercise into a busy schedule, are
a must. Kapoor works out religiously every day. Sonia has her own gym
and practises Tae Bo. Shah plays tennis thrice a week.
Clothes
are also high on the priority list. Only the best designer labels will
do. Jasmin Sohrabji, the 30-something vice-president of Media.Com, the
media arm of Trikaya-Grey, is both a workaholic and a shopaholic. Her
motto: "Why earn if you can't spend it." She works killing hours
and then de-stresses by picking up names like DKNY, Ann Taylor and Gucci.
Narang's handbags are Ferragammo and her shoes, Gucci. Sanghavi is partial
to Prada. "I don't buy junk. Everything has to be perfect. After
all you are your own ad." Shah won't leave home without the right
labels.
However,
many of these women are still looking for a suitable boy. By all accounts,
they've been at the receiving end of some of the world's worst pick-up
lines. Kohli was waxing eloquent at a business meeting, when an actor
stopped her with "Are you single?" She nodded and continued.
After a few minutes, he interrupted again: "Are you seeing someone?"
At which point she burst out laughing. There are many suitors but there
simply aren't, as Chowdhury puts it, enough "single successful men
who can match up".
The women
insist they aren't "looking for Tom Cruise". Just someone intelligent,
faithful, confident and charming will do. But it has to feel right. Till
then, they are content being single. Alone doesn't translate into lonely.
Besides, when you are so successful, being single isn't a stigma.
But then
Mumbai is that kind of city. It's cosmopolitan, frenetic and chillingly
competitive. Success is more important than gender. So women, especially
those in the upper echelon, can live on their own terms. As Jaspreet Bindra,
the 30-year-old chief operating officer of Baazee.com, puts it, "The
Mumbai woman brings colour and vivacity to the table. The social pressure
to conform to the traditional, coy 'Bharatiya nari' has no role to play
here."
Locals have
a word for it. Bindaas, as in bold, carefree, cool. That's who the Bombay
babe is. Simply bindaas.
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