After The Rising, the sinking

Sound and fury: One of the newspaper headlines

The Indian Council for Cultural Relations (ICCR) is to give a ?150,000 grant to a British film company to make a movie, The Black Hole of Calcutta, which will depict Indians as a cruel and barbaric lot who killed hundreds of English men, women and children by imprisoning them in a small, airless cell. First, the natives had their wicked way with the white women.

All right, all right, this isn’t true. Just trying to explain how things look the other way round. Some British papers are furious that the UK Film Council put ?150,000 into The Rising, which, they say, distorts the history of the British in India. The historian, Saul David, author of The Indian Mutiny: 1857, attacked the fictional accounts and said, “this sounds like vilification of the British just for the sake of it”. Had he seen the film, who knows his anger might have been greater.

The Daily Mail film critic was worried that The Rising could touch off an uprising in Britain: “At a time when some Muslims are wrongly convinced that the entire Western world is against them, how foolish it is to release such a historically bogus and inflammatory account of the 1857 Mutiny in India. And how stupid of the powers-that-be to spend ?150,000 of lottery money on a project that will help to endanger everyone in Britain, whatever their religion.”

After this trashing, I surprised myself by quite enjoying the film, especially as I recognised Farrukh Dhondy’s little schoolboy jokes. Fired with revolutionary fervour I went and had some fish and chips afterwards. Seriously, though, I am reading about the history of 1857. But I cannot work out the answer to a fundamental question ? whose history is it, anyway? Theirs or ours? Which do you learn if you are an Indian child growing up at a school in England?

Tell tale: Amitabh Bachchan

Gravy train

The day of the “?100-a-head” curry may not be far off ? and the first restaurant which could get away with charging this sort of money may well be Rasoi Vineet Bhatia just off Sloane Square in London.

According to Harden’s, the annual restaurant guidebook, ?100-a-head has become the norm in London’s leading restaurants such as Blakes, Le Gavroche, Sketch and Umu.

Peter Harden, the guide’s co-editor, says: “It would seem that there are still plenty of people able and willing to eat out, without too much concern about rising menu prices.”

Each year Harden’s picks out the 10 most “notable” restaurants to have opened in the previous 12 months. In the latest issue, Rasoi Vineet Bhatia is one of the 10.

The guide says: “London is the world’s leading Indian restaurant city.”

It adds that at the top end, establishments such as Vama, Zaika, Tamarind, The Cinnamon Club and the new Rasoi Vineet Bhatia are “pushing back the frontiers”.

“Vineet Bhatia is arguably London’s top Indian chef; prices are very high, though,” comments Harden’s.

Three years ago, I picked out Vineet as one of my 10 best Indian chefs in London, along with Udit Sarkhel, Andy Varma, Cyrus Todiwala, Atul Kochhar, Vikram Sunderam, Mehernosh Mody, Das Sreedharan, A.V. Sriram and Kuldip Singh. All have become celebrities. But the point remains that however good the Indian restaurants in London, Indians from India still prefer the cooking “back home”. Where Vineet has succeeded is in taking Indian cuisine in a new direction and presenting it in a way which dazzles the discriminating Westerner.

“I don’t cook for the Southall crowd,” Vineet told me once.

Dining at Rasoi Vineet Bhatia won’t leave you much change from ?100-per-head but what do you get for that?

A reviewer wrote recently: “The ‘evolved Indian’ menu may include dishes like starter of assorted sea scallops which are spice-crusted, with chilli, sesame and onion seed, main course of grilled spice marinated duck escalope with hot tamarind chutney, sauteed garlic shiitake mushrooms and onion fritters, and pudding of poached pear, ginger and yoghurt cheesecake with blueberries and fennel sorbet.”

The truth is that Indian food no longer belongs to India. Like yoga, it has been colonised by the West. Not so long ago, Andy Varma confided that Prince Andrew had dropped in for a meal at Vama. And the other day at Bombay Brasserie (used by Tom Cruise as his takeaway), the manager Arun Harnal, said to me: “Do look now, Woody Allen is on that table there.”

Unlike top Indians, especially the Bollywood crowd, Western celebrities behave very oddly ? they insist on paying their bills and even leave a generous tip.

A fine balance

The BBC’s world affairs editor, John Simpson, 61, is publishing his memoirs next month in which he reveals his shock at discovering that his father, Roy, who died 25 years ago, was a closet homosexual.

Not too many Indians would be so candid but British publishers demand “shock disclosures” from the authors of biographies and autobiographies.

In Britain, a biography of Amitabh Bachchan was due to be published. There are no huge secrets in Bachchan’s remarkable career but whether the book, by Jessica Hines, comes out remains to be seen. In India, we don’t need hatchet jobs of the kind so beloved of British publishing. But neither do we need hagiographies. A fine balance would do.

Jessica’s friends marvel at her refusal to write a book on her journey through Bollywood. Had it been Faria Alam, she could have extracted ?100,000 from the News of the World for, “My love child with Bollywood superstar”.

Apple of the eye: Anoushka Shankar (above); Narendra Kotiyan (below)

Fathers dear

At 24, Anoushka Shankar is a pretty woman who has posed for some sexy pictures in a glossy magazine in London. She says her long-term boyfriend in India (name not mentioned but probably a boy called Nishant) is very understanding about their frequent separation: “We’ve both settled into the fact that we want each other.”

In between her hectic travel schedule and sitar concerts, she had found time to write a happy book in praise of her father Ravi Shankar titled Bapi ? The Love of My Life.

Perhaps Anoushka doesn’t realise this yet but she is lucky to have had the love of two fathers ? Ravi Shankar, as well as Narendra Kot-iyan, who was once married to her mother, Sukhanya, and who brought her up in London apparently unaware she was not his biological daughter.

In the West, Ravi Shankar is revered as almost a god. But he has himself admitted his love life was tangled. Whatever the truth behind Narendra’s complex and painful marriage to Sukhanya, I believed Narendra when he met me (three or four times) and told me he will always love the little girl who called him “Papa”.

Tittle tattle

Always the bridesmaid, never the bride. Suketu Mehta might feel like that but he has another shot at an award.

Maximum City: Bombay Lost and Found is one of 10 books shortlisted for the Guardian’s “first book” award. It’s billed as “a stunning history of the city by a young Indian journalist”.

Perhaps he ought to add an update on how Westerners have loved reading his account of how life in Mumbai can range from bad to very bad.