Jhakas | Sanjay Jha
Priyanka Chopra, Bollywood's diva, paced up and down, fidgeting rather nervously at the Cricket Club of India , Mumbai as sports journalists trooped in, wearing bored expressions. Sports scribes had scathing contempt for the entertainment industry in those pre-IPL T20 days of Y2000 , unlike the intimate schmoozing of the current crop.
We were about to announce our CricketNext.Com's sponsorship of the second Asia XI versus Rest of the World XI match in aid of the Oval stadium in London, England. Former Prime Minister John Major was the chief architect of the entire initiative. IMG, the well known sports management firm were the event managers. And Miss Chopra was the supposed magnet for attracting flash-lights and some precious media exposure. Continue reading below
As the principal sponsors we had been "promised" Sachin Tendulkar by IMG ( as if he was a purchasable commodity , which in fact, was the case I was told) .. Tendulkar guaranteed huge photo-ops, extensive visibility ( in fact, people forgot what they were actually supposed to cover) and brand salience. Miss World, despite her stunning glamorous looks was only a runner-up choice to Ten. The PR firm was Sampark, looking suitably starry-eyed and excited.
Although Chopra was a stimulating visual distraction compared to Sachin's diminutive frame , my hard-boiled grave-looking old-fogy egg heads in the editorial section were seething with virulent curses. For them, it was virtual blasphemy that Miss World would grace the coveted trophy. With the finesse of a diplomatic ambassador I managed to suppress the proposed coup; it helps if you are the boss, though. Nevertheless, they ignored Chopra with immaculate disdain. The turnout was somewhat disappointing.
Miss Chopra is lissome and tall, and has the necessary proportions that guarantee you an entry into Bollywood. Her height definitely gave me a clear inferiority complex. Of course, I did not want to overshadow her with my debonair looks either, so I generally kept a studious safe distance from her. She was accompanied by a middle-aged lady who looked like her aunt and agent combined.
The press conference had the usual banalities. Priyanka briefly mentioned her passionate love for the game with her by now-famous 1000-watt smile from that equally celebrated pout , and I cracked some feeble jokes. She has an earthy voice and is extremely articulate . I think secretly the grumpy sanctimonious press-wallahs were getting quite charmed by the dusky beauty. Someone asked me if CricketNext would sponsor the World Cup as well, and not aware of the full import of that , and of a dot com crash round the corner , I said---Why not? I hope that irrational intrepidity of mine is not available on any archive.
Chopra has an infectious smile, and is feminine to the point of being fragile. She was constantly on the cell-phone, and looked a woman in love. I don't think sports journalists quite like a woman in love glowing in the afternoon sun, pretending to be equally enamored by cricket. Chopra faked it better than Sally in When Harry Met Sally.
The photo-guys and journalists sufficiently melted into sauce by now wanted to shoot her in isolation , away from my intrusive black beard, but my PR firm shoved me violently in the frame; after all I was the sponsor, and Priyanka did not have Don, Krish, Aitraaz, and Mujhse Shaadi Karogi behind her as yet. So I stood next to Priyanka Chopra, Miss World, ignoring her sweet dazzling smiles and friendly demeanor with calculated defiance, like a stuffed up gas-bag. That was eight long years ago.
Then last week I saw her in a Karan Johar movie promo about gays, it seems. And out of the deep blues of the Miami sea emerged a woman in a shimmering golden swimsuit, looking as alluring as coconut water in a sandstorm in the Sahara.
If ICC is listening, I am ready to sponsor the next World Cup!
