Woof. Yes it’s me. Down here.
Hi. I am Manisha Koirala’s dog.
I hope I am not disturbing you. I just need to talk.
I am sure you have heard the term “dog’s life”. I guess it’s true for me more than any other dog. Ever.
It’s not as if it was great before. Okay let me change that. At first it was a decent life—I was puppy brought in from Nepal. Manisha Koirala, my mistress mmm master, was then an A-lister, a definite contender for the top spot.
I fell in love with her in “1942 a Love Story”, “Akele Hum Akele Tum” and “Khamoshi”. She was drop dead beautiful, she could act and most importantly she was nice and kind—-she would caress me behind my ears while I snoozed on her lap. I liked it —knowing that most of you would have died to feel what I felt then.
Of course she did some crappy stuff too—-like act in movies like “Dhanwaan” (Ajay Devgun, Karishma Kapoor), “Sangdil Sanam” (Salman—thanks Kandarp), “Yeh Majhdhar” (Rahul Roy, Salman) , “Milan” and “Ramshastra” (Jackie Shroff), Guddu (Shahrukh Khan).
But there were nice moments also—-like the time her hand glider in “Guddu” developed problems because of her bulk. But overall, she kept her weight in control, took a few sips here and there, I got my chunky chunky chunks from London and things were nice.
The trouble began once Malkin Manisha began seeing Nana Patekar. That was when my fortunes went south—-I still suffer from the trauma of having seen both of them make love—imagine that expression Nana had in “Parinda” when he sees fire and starts beating his head. Only here there was no fire.
It put me off sex for the rest of my life.
Despite the fact that she gave a hit “Agnisakshi” with him, the relationship with Nana made her very unhappy and depressed. She started withdrawing into herself, Jack Daniels and Johnnie Walker were regular visitors in the evening and then of course 69…Vat 69 at night.
Nana went. Then followed a succession of vague people—-some DJ, some ambassador of Australia accompanied by a sequence of cinematic flops, each one worse than the one before.
Malkin started gaining weight and life became hell because she would sometimes kick me in my ribs in a drunken rage.
I got to tell you those kicks would make Roberto Carlos proud. Do watch “Market” if only to see Madam unleash one of those kicks on a hapless extra.
Then this dude Sashilal Nair came and made Malkin proposal she should have refused. He somehow convinced her that sex flicks are the wave of the future and that Indian men considered as their objects of fantasies—buxom, voluptuous women.
But then things went horribly wrong during the production of Nair’s ” Ek Choti Si Love Story”.
Mr Nair argued that though it is true that men fantasized about two women in bed—the underlying assumption was that they were two different women and not their sum in mass.
Madam threw a bottle at him.
And any dog knows that is a recipe for disaster.
When “Ek Choti Si Love Story” was released, the director punched in some “steamy” scenes using a body double for Manisha—after all the poor man wanted some ROI. But Madam got angry—she kicked me in the nuts and then sued Sashilal Nair for cheating her—of course the official reason was that she was shocked at how her dignity had been violated by the “bold scenes” being pictured on a double without her consent.
But trust a dog to know the truth. And don’t even bother watching the movie—its total KLPD. And the only thing “Choti” (small) about it is the number of people who paid to see it.
If this was not hell enough, worse was to follow. Malkin got these two cats—Mischief (named after a brand of Madam’s favorite product) and Morgan (I think the guy who did the photocopies in the Austrian embassy) —who would scratch me whenever I took an afternoon siesta.
Movies with Arman Kohli, Sanjay Kapoor meant that Malkin was now scraping the bottom of the Bollywood barrel sharing space with Ayesha Jhulka. Malkin even tried playing Madonna in a movie—–ooh lord sweet heaven. She was a “material girl” all right—-only not in the way the Queen of Pop conceptualized it.
Now the last straw. Some idiot let out the fact that my name is Mustafa. And before you could say “Slimfast” there were a bunch of Islamic radicals in front of our house shouting slogans.
Bollywood actress Manisha Koirala and her Persian cats Mischief and Morgan are under police protection after her dogâ€™s name sparked protests among Muslim fundamentalists.
Members of the community lodged a complaint at Versova police station saying that the dogâ€™s name, Mustafa, was same as that of their spiritual head and had to be withdrawn immediately.
Fearing protest rallies, the police had beefed up security near Koiralaâ€™s Beachwood Tower residence on Yari Road. There are now 12 policemen guarding her building.
Here’s the deal. I have no name. Malkin never gave me one. Initially she used to call me darling and coochie coo and all that—-and then just used the name of her last boyfriend.
But instead of telling people the truth, Malkin just denies my existence. So while the pussies get police protection, I don’t exist. After all all those kicks and abuses, this is what I get.
Since two days, the actress is believed to have been receiving threat calls regarding her pet dog. Strangely, the actress said, she did not have a dog. Speaking to Mid Day, general secretary of Congress, Sheikh Furkhan, who led a 50-odd mob to Versova police station, said the actress is lying.â€œFive neighbors in Beachwood Tower have seen Koirala take the pet dog for a stroll. They also confirmed that the canine had the same name as our religious leader,â€ fumed Furkhan
Of course they have seen me. Duh ! I am Manisha Koirala’s dog—that’s class for you. Well at least she has Z-category security—which ties in nicely with the category her recent movies fall into.
And now the clincher.
But when the D N Nagar division sent API Arvind Sarvankar to Koiralaâ€™s residence for verification, they discovered that she did not have a dog.
Idiot ! Did the guy even look at what Madam was sitting on—if he had just asked her to stand up, all would have been revealed.
It is indeed a dog’s life.