A Bed of Roses

THE private room at Annabel's, the famous member's only nightclub in London, was the venue of a great party last Saturday. My late husban...

THE private room at Annabel’s, the famous member’s only nightclub in London, was the venue of a great party last Saturday. My late husband Rajan and I used to host a Wimbledon weekend party every year, with drinks at the famous Buddha bar, then dinner in the private room, followed by revelry in the main club. This time round, the host’s were Mr and Mrs Joelson from Los Angeles.

Since Alan Joelson is English, he had at the table a couple of his school friends and their wives and a host of other friends and partners who were close to both him and his glamorous wife Yasmina who is of Morroccan origin. Rajan always believed that entertaining was a fine art and doing it well was a rare talent. Having spent quite a few days availing of their warm hospitality, I declare Yasmina and Alan to be the Zen masters of this rare talent. I reached the venue a little late, as I had an earlier commitment.

Upon arrival at the private room I was seated right in the middle of the room with Tofiq from Paris and Mandfredfrom South Africa as my dinner companions. The lovely Hasa and Mishal, her dapper husband, were seated across from me. David Morris, the jeweller, Michael a partner of the Joelson’s as also Sheila and Derick Dawson were some of the other names seated around the table. Hasa’s sister Masha told me about her passion for Amitabh Bachchan and regaled me with an anecdote of how she yelled to him just outside Harrods, a few years back, "Amitabh I love you"! Being King Fahd’s niece-in-law didn’t put a damper on her spirits and she just yelled like any normal fan would have. Hasa also has a penchant for Hindi films and music. She is a great fan of Raj Kapoor. When she sings Awara hoon‘ with true poignancy it wells my eyes with tears. Talking of Rajji, he is an institution. I sat in a cab one day, as my car was late, and met the driver Ladimar, an Iranian, who was a crazed Rajji fan. Sangam and Awara was all he wanted to talk about and his obsession for the hero of all-time, Raj Kapoor. Herecounted how he had seen Sangam 20 times and that the film had run in one cinema in Tehran for eight whole years and when Rajji had gone to Iran nearly half a million people had shown up to see him.

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He also made a small suggestion that Rajji should be commemorated with a postage stamp in his honour. I whole-heartedly endorse this suggestion. Now I hope someone who makes decisions like this is reading this piece and does something about it. Back to the private room and the party. The room itself is a long rectangular one with a wine cellar effect in that thousands of red wine bottles line the walls giving it a charm which is old worldly and chic.

I had caviar tartare and some fine red wine. Hasa, Mishal, Tofiq and Masha were flying off on their Gulf Stream V the next morning to Marbella. Despite being sorely tempted to take them up on their offer of a ride to their home in Marbella for a short break, I said No’! Next year perhaps, Inshallah! When the song I will survive’ played, all the girls jumpedup to dance.

Being the Wimbledon week, the nightclub was packed and with just a handkerchief-sized dance floor, we had to all cozy up just to be on the floor. At 3.00 am, when the Joelson’s took me to my apartment, my older son who had promised to stay up was fast asleep, so we went for a midnight feast to Alan and Yasmina’s penthouse suite at the Claridges. Rachel, their lovely daughter, joined us and we had smoked salmon, scrambled eggs and Puligny Montrachet. I barely slept for three hours in the makeshift bedroom created for me, before creeping back to the apartment and this time managing to wake up my son. I’d thought midnight feasts and adventures were done with once out of school, but that night I found out that the child in me enjoyed the spontaneity of our shared early morning meal and the ensuing warmth and bonding.

The other wonderful evening I shared with the Joelson’s was when Sheila and Derick Dawson threw a party for eight at Harry’s Bar, another private club owned by the indomitable MarkBirley. He owns both Annabel’s and Mark’s Club. The first named after the beautiful Annabel, his former wife, now the widow of James Goldsmith, to put it simply, Jemima Khan’s mother. Harry’s Bar was full of the most impressive names that evening. There were glamour girls, stockbrokers, young turks and models. Marie Chantal of Spain with her prince, the King and Queen of Yugoslavia, were some of the better known names. The ambience was magical and Terence, who sat to my left, threw in a few jokes to keep things light.

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On the Sunday of the Wimbledon final, Vijay Amritraj with his lovely wife Shyamala and son Vikram, had dinner with us. We went to London’s China Garden for dinner. The uniqueness of this restaurant besides the great food is that as you walk into the restaurant you walk on water. An illusion created by a clear glass floor with carp fish swimming. Most people stop, overcome their fear and cross, some giggle, some squeal, but you get a reaction from one and all. David, the manager, took greatcare of all of us and we had a whale of a time catching up and watching the antics of my five-year-old who was so awed by Uncle Vijay that he’d made us go out for dinner saying, "But Ma! I don’t want to waste Uncle Vijay by staying home, I want to show him off." And boy he was right. Our ambassador or Elder Statesman of Tennis is the darling of the British media and even the waiters. Flash bulbs popped and autograph hunters were obliged. Another typical evening out for Vij, but for little Shiv, an untold treat. He’s now determined to be a tennis star. Who knows may be out there playing with the young Amritraj heir’s Prakash, Vikram and Steven may be little Shiva in the year 2015! Heroes inspire and to little Shiv, uncle Vijay is one great super hero. ATTABOY!