A Bollywood podcast between an old black cat and her US-returned granddaughter

“Awww dahlings, we didn’t sleep a wink last night because we could hear Vinod and Amrita’s razzmatazz,” she lazily stretched out on the plush cream couch, pushing the mic under her belly with all the wires.

“Nani, Kahin pe nigahein, kahin pe ishaara won’t work. Focus, focus. We are on BB’s Kick, not Neeta’s Natter. And this is the 80s nostalgia trend that has taken the internet by storm. Apna Sapna Money Money, 1M views. Let’s focus on Bollywood parties, stars, rumours, link-ups, Rajesh ka Anand, Dimple ka Sunny mix, Meenakshi’s thandapan, Jackie’s oomph, Sanju baba’s explosives. Nani, don’t crash the stream and get us shadowbanned. We want to hook the viewers, not get nuked by the algorithm. Heera ki tamanna is that Neeta’s Natter should re-tell, re-wear, re-live old Bollywood behind-the-scenes, when the stars loved to hate you,” a shrill voice broke through the cool room, and the old black cat felt the wires being pulled from under her belly.

“Nani, did you really lick Dharmendra’s whisky glass?”

The old black cat opened her eyes and rubbed her face, her claws felt weak. “BB’s Kick. Who’s BB? Who did you say you were? Does Shobhaa know you?”

“Nani, once more, I’m your grandchild. You lost mummy in the Kumbh Mela. She joined the Osho ashram and travelled to the US with Vinod. After my Akashic Record reading, I found you in the pages of an old Stardust, Neeta’s Natter. And here I am in this corner of Akshaye’s house with you. Bees Saal Baad, kya se kya ho gaya dilruba tere pyaar mein.”

“Please don’t push the mic further into the couch fold. It’s a famous brand collab. It covers all my expenses, including paying Detective Byomkesh to find you.”

The older face with drooping whiskers peered at her with clouded eyes. “Cognac sharaab nahin hoti.”

BB’s soft tissue bow was covered with mukaish and Swarovski stars. She sat on a delicately embroidered napkin placed on the plush couch with its silky cream covers. The mic was embossed with a golden BB. Next to her lay pink sunshades. An open notebook lay in front of her.

The old covers of Stardust lay open between the two cats, a glittering reminder of another Bollywood, when Stardust was the passport to parties, scandals, romances and the secrets everyone pretended not to know.

“Nani, you were Neeta’s Natter, the irreverent, much-hated feline face of the column. But your avatar is older, like that vampish 50s Nadira from Shree 420. God, you had rizz, that pipe and bejewelled neck. The OG gossip influencer!” BB cajoled, forcing the old black cat to crawl onto another corner of the fluffy couch, facing the camera.

“I am Neeta,” she thought aloud. “Jaane kahan gaye woh din. I loved sneaking into Dharmendra’s home. Kitni fursat se banaya tha usko!”

“Nani, you were crushing!” BB was all excitement. Finally, the podcast seemed to be on track.

“Crushing? I never crushed. My Maa said that a lady has to stand tall, walk with grace, hold her head high. Her Maa was Nadira’s fave feline and she had such good ears. Star secrets and homes are our family business.”

“Ooh, that’s how you got the Nadira avatar, that outstanding pipe, shiny jewels, tail hanging behind you, sitting upright on the wall. Chaudhvin Ka Chand vibes,” BB gushed, crossing her paws to make the podcast viral.

“Na, na, that was Great Grand Maa. I was sultry Parveen, svelte Zeenat, dream girl Hema rolled into one. And I was my favourite,” Nani closed her eyes again, muttering. “Why don’t you come into the green room with me? I’ll get Bharat, Parveen’s makeup man, to do something about those drooping ears. By the way, you never told me who you were and who is BB?”

“Nani, I’ll have to put this on loop mode, I already told you,” BB took out a crochet handkerchief and wiped the sweat from her neck. “BB… Besharam Bobby, your daughter Rekha’s daughter. I came back to India because Salman got offended when I purred at Katrina. Then, Shilpa refused to let us dine at Bastion. Farah didn’t want us in her vlog. Archana and Shekhar both refused to have us on their shows. Saif was uppity about his nawab status. And we had to take the boat with Kareena to reach Akshaye’s Alibaug house.”

“Nani, kuchu puchu, bolo, bolo, kuch toh bolo.”

“Ae meri Zohrajabeen, jaldi na macha. Patiala peg paa. Meowww, meowww.”

This piece is a work of satirical flash fiction created for creative and entertainment purposes. It is an affectionate homage inspired by the legendary gossip column “Neeta’s Natter” from the iconic Stardust magazine. The column, taking an unfiltered view of the industry changed film journalism, with reportage in Hinglish. All characters, dialogues, and feline antics are entirely fictional, and any references to real media outlets or public figures are used purely within a transformative, satirical context.

Ambica Gulati is a journalist, senior editorial professional and storyteller with 26+ years of experience across travel, culture, environment, global affairs and visual storytelling. A former senior editor with Outlook Traveller and Swagat, she is the founder-editor of Queen of Treasures, an independent digital journal exploring people, places and perspectives.

Through Big World, Small Stories, she looks beyond the obvious to explore the people, places, encounters and ideas that reveal something larger about our changing world.

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This post is a part of ‘Pass The Popcorn Blog Hop’ hosted by Manali Desai and Sukaina Majeed and sponsored by Jaico Publishing House under #EveryConversationMatters blog hop series, powered by authors Sourabh Mukherjee and Puja Mukherjee Khattri.

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