My latest book is The One Who Swam With The Fishes.
"A mesmerizing account of the well-known story of Matsyagandha ... and her transformation from fisherman’s daughter to Satyavati, Santanu’s royal consort and the Mother/Progenitor of the Kuru clan." - Hindustan Times
"Themes of fate, morality and power overlay a subtle and essential feminism to make this lyrical book a must-read. If this is Madhavan’s first book in the Girls from the Mahabharata series, there is much to look forward to in the months to come." - Open Magazine
"A gleeful dollop of Blytonian magic ... Reddy Madhavan is also able to tackle some fairly sensitive subjects such as identity, the love of and karmic ties with parents, adoption, the first sexual encounter, loneliness, and my favourite, feminist rage." - Scroll
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25 February 2005
That's Ms. Teeny-bopper to you
Anyway, that's what I used to be like, so even if I'm slightly the "hectic teeny-bopper" now, you have to realise where I'm coming from. The reason I'm mentioning it, is because yesterday I went for Siddhartha Tytler's Spring/Summer showing at Decibel. Strictly a work thing and all, and since I was going straight from office, I went as I was, dressed in a bulky coat, a cardigan, blue jeans and sneakers. I smelt of coffee and smoke and tiredness, my hair was in its final I-give-up stage and I carried a huge jhola with various notebooks and pens and Bill Bryson's The Lost Continent sticking out of it. The photographer and I were joking about how it was always easy to spot journos at these dos because they would be the worst dressed. (Not the TV journalists. Bitches. They're always so made up and so put together and they have this certain authority with holding that mic and sticking into people's faces that I definitely can't conjure up, even with a Parker pen.) Anyway, it was all very funny and all run-of-the-mill because I had done it a hundred, thousand times before, right?
So then we watched the show and then as good little p3p reporters do, we circulated. And it was incredible! Every second person I bumped into was from LSR, people I used to hang out with and hair-swish with and people who were now regarding me with the same expression I used to give..well.. people who turned up at nightclubs in jeans and sneakers. Wow, am I getting my come-uppance, huh? Of course, the first few people I met didn't bother me, even one skinny cow, who smiled at me and when I asked her what she was doing there, she said, "Oh, Sid and I are good friends." Sid. God.
Then there was this old school-acquaintance of mine, who has turned into an Elite model, very glamorous with big hair. And then there was this fat girl, a year junior to me in college, who I usually felt good around, but she was all dressed in a blue halter top and she was all like, "Catch you." Peh. Well, she looked fat in her blue halter anyway. And I stood there, in the midst of this party, feeling my heart beat in my ears, not even fortifying myself with alcohol because the bar was so crowded and feeling people staring at me, no doubt because of the way I dressed and seriously, at that moment I felt like a has-been. I felt old and wrinkled and ugly and it was horrible because I used to be one of those shiny people. I have halter tops that are languishing in my cupboard. I think I should just quit my job and go back to being a socialite.
So I staggered out and into the lobby, where I met the brother of a friend who was very nice and sweet and gave me cigarettes and I felt better.
Moral of the story: Next time, don't volunteer to cover a party at a nightclub, even if you haven't been there before.