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Dinner with Jaspal Bhatti and Vivek Shawq
“Aare baba,” please may I get paid for the show now?
pleads Vivek.
Pattaya’s Indian community was abuzz last week, turning out
in large numbers to welcome two well known Indian entertainers, Jaspal Bhatti
and Vivek Shawq.
Jaspal, a native of Punjab, was born in Chanigarh at a very young age. His
parents had great hopes that their son would go out in to the world, as soon as
he could walk.
But the bright lad disappointed them by being a ‘stay at home’ type. His family
thus became the first people to be tormented, eh, entertained by his impromptu
performances.
“Eeetnaa Bada” Bhatti tries to
impress the ladies by demonstrating the size of the one that got away.
At school, his grammatical ability in the Punjabi language
made his teachers laugh until they cried. Or it may have been the other way
around. No matter. Jaspal was accepted at university. His family was overjoyed.
“Is he really going away for four years?”
A sigh of relief ran through the house.
At university, his teachers found his abilities positively frightening. “If he
puts that intelligence to use, who knows what might happen?”
Mr. Grover presents flowers to
Jaspal Bhatti at the end of a most enjoyable evening.
Throughout his life, Jaspal had been planning his revenge on
the world. This plot bore fruit when he produced and acted in a comedy series,
The Flop Show, which was an immense success and shown on Doordarshan, India’s
national television station.
Back in Punjab, neighbours were a bit surprised when they saw Jaspal’s parents
throwing the family television sets into the trash bins.
“Please watch the show,’ his mother told them. “You’ll see what I had to live
with for eighteen years.”
Goldy thanks Vivek and wishes him
luck and a safe journey back to India.
Jaspal’s family was secretly proud, though, as their son had
become the first Sikh comedian in India.
His inimitable brand of humour was of the most generous kind, making fun of
himself and showing people the amusing side of Indian customs.
He had the distinction of originating the first real, ‘Sikh joke’.
Jaspal’s star kept rising and he married the beautiful Seweeta, who acts with
him, but refuses to be seen with him.
Says Seweeta, “When he asked me if I would like to get married, I didn’t know he
meant to him!” “He didn’t tell me that until after I said yes.”
“Don’t brag yaar” The youngsters
loved Bhatti.
Being in the same profession has produced a strong marriage
and two lovely children, a boy, 11, and a girl, 7.
The Bhatti’s work requires home bases in four Indian cities and world tours as
they are constantly in demand.
A new chapter in Jaspal’s life opens next September with the premiere of a
feature film in which he acts, directs and produces.
Vivik Shawq, of the irritatingly perfect bone structure, was in Pattaya with his
comrade Jaspal Bhatti. As he is a very nice person, we have forgiven him for
being so good-looking.
Also born in Chandigarh, Vivik lived in Delhi most of his life. He acted in the
Jaspal Bhatti series and soon became the pivotal character in the show.
Vivek studied mechanical engineering at university, but was also seduced by the
siren song of the stage.
He will play the lead in a Hindi film which will be released in July 1997 and
this will put his career into high gear.
In the film, entitled Barsaat Ke Raat, there will be two leading ladies. Why has
not been revealed yet, but Vivek is not complaining.
His close association with Jaspal Bhatti will continue as the two are perfect
foils for each other and stimulate each other’s creativity.
The appearance of Jaspal Bhatti and Vivik Shawq was a treat that the Indian
community in Pattaya will talk about for a long time.
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Elvis lives forever
Elvis sighting in Pattaya!
Performing nightly at the Garden Terrace of the Central Wongamat Hotel.
by Elfi
Many of you will agree: Yes, he lives forever in our
hearts. But sometimes, one gets the feeling they are actually listening to
his re-incarnation. That happens if you listen to Elvissit, Pattaya’s one
and only - almost real - Elvis Presley.
He looks a bit like Elvis did a while after his come back. Not too slim but
still moving sexy - Pisit Kongsri, or Elvissit.
PM: “How long have you been in the music business?”
E: “This is a terrible question. It could tell you how old I am. All right
then, I started to play guitar and keyboard when I was 13.”
PM: “ Clever answer. What year were you 13?”
Elvissit starts laughing : “About (cough cough) years ago.”
PM: “ I quite didn’t under-stand you...”
E: “All right then. 33 years ago. T he first few years I only played for my
own, my friends and of course my parents pleasure, there was no way out for
them to run away.” He laugh’s again. “But in 1969 I started to play
professionally at the Air Force camp in U-tapao. My group was called ‘Star
Sapphires’. We used to play anything that was in fashion in those days:
Blues, Tom Jones, Steppenwolf, The Platters, Rock. I was only a guitarist
back then, only after the ‘Chicago Band’ became famous in Thailand and the
entire style of music changed, did my group ask me to become their lead
singer. That’s how my career started.”
PM: “When did you start to perform in Pattaya?”
E: “The first time was 22 years ago. My band was called ‘The Winners’ and we
played at the Nipa Lodge for two years. After that I went back to Bangkok,
played there with ‘The Green Apples’ at the Ambassador and from there I went
to Macao and Hong Kong. I couldn’t stand it there for too long because I
felt awfully homesick. I spent a few more years in Bangkok until I didn’t
like the environment there anymore and I decided to move to Pattaya, which
is now 10 years ago.”
Pisit Kongsri, or Elvissit,
sits down for a long chat with Elfi.
PM: “We can call you a real ‘Pattayan’ then. Do you think
you might move away from Pattaya again?”
E: “No, I don’t think so. I really like it here. First of all, a guy my age
has to settle down. The second reason is the environment is perfect, though
not as nice as 22 years ago. It looked like a small, perfect island itself.
Now, even though it became much better, Pattaya still needs a lot to clean
up again. I am lucky, I work, more or less, on the beach and I have build up
my own business here besides singing.”
PM: “What kind of business?”
E: “My wife and I own a photo shop in Soi Wongamat. It’s called ‘Queen Color
Lab”. We are both very happy here and of course my little daughter was born
in Pattaya. We feel at home.”
PM: “That is very nice to hear. I believe your daughter ‘Mow’ is 4 1/2 years
old. Do you have any other children?”
E: “Yes, 2 sons from a previous marriage. The elder one plays guitar very
well, he is already 21, and the other one who is 15 is a drummer. My little
daughter already talks about playing piano. She says she wants to help me
make music when she becomes older. I guess music runs in the family. My
grandfather was a band-leader. He played Thai Classics. But none of my 4
sisters, nor my brother is a musician. My brother had other, maybe better,
things to do. He actually used to play for the Thai National Football Team
and I believe he was a star all over Asia: Pichai Konsri.”
PM: “Since I have already been in Thailand for many years and happen to be a
football fan, I believe I recognize his name. Do you play football?”
E: “Of course. It’s my number one sport.” With one hand over his mouth he
whispers: “Actually the only one. Second favorite sport for me is relaxing.”
PM: “Have you got time for that?”
E: “Not really. See, I play every night at the Garden Terrace of the Central
Wongamat Hotel. Four months ago I formed a new band, only with musicians
from Pattaya, called ‘Avocado’. We have to practice almost every day.
Besides that I have my photo shop. Luckily, that’s a lot of work also. I am
definitely not bored but I have no time to relax. I also perform at
different other places; at parties, weddings, just name it.”
PM: “Which means, if I feel like it, I could hire you for my next birthday
party?”
Elvissit, who was singing while I was busy writing down everything, stops,
smiles and tells me: “If you book long enough in advance, you might have a
chance.”
PM: “Have you always copied Elvis?”
E: “No. I started five years ago when I had a contract at the Town in Town
Hotel. We were looking for something new and found it in something old. To
tell you the truth, I have been a big Elvis fan since I was a little boy. I
always dreamed about singing like him one day. I remember the song ‘Love me
tender’ in 1956 was the most famous Elvis song ever in Thailand, and I used
to sing it day and night. When I started to sing like Elvis it was very
famous then. Now popular music styles have changed. Lots of Rap, but there
are still enough people who like to listen to me.”
PM: “Amongst them your humble interrogator. So your dream finally became
true. Do you always believe in dreams?”
E: “Who told you that? It’s true. Let me tell you, three years ago I dreamed
of Elvis Presley. It first looked like a golden cloud which transformed
itself slowly into the image of Elvis, wearing golden clothes. The next day,
I bought a lottery ticket, it’s last numbers were Elvis’s age - and I won
12,000 Baht. To express my thanks, I donated a lot of fruits to a temple in
his name. Another time, only 4 months ago, I saw Buddha in my dream and I
prayed with an old monk to him. Guess what I did? I bought another lottery
ticket and won 140,000 Baht. Is that reason enough to believe in dreams?”
PM: “I agree. Tell me, what will be your dreams of the future?”
E: “I love animals. Especially horses, riding is also one of my dreams. Even
though I’d like to sing until the end of my days, I might have to do
something else when I am too old for this kind of business. I would like to
have a farm near Pattaya.”
PM: “Aha, I can imagine already all the tourists coming to your farm to
watch the riding, singing farmer per-form.”
A customer walks into his shop, looks at him, hesitates and says: ‘Hey, you
look like Elvis.’ Elvissit just smiles. I can’t help it and tell the man:
‘He is Elvis. Of Pattaya.’
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First Pattaya Mail Amateur Photo Contest
First Place: “Happiness is a Cold Bath on a
Hot Evening” by Bjorn Falkenbrink. Bjorn will receive 2 nights
accommodation at the Amari Orchid Resort in Chiang Mai (ABF included).
Pattaya Mail is proud to present the winners of the first ever Pattaya
Mail Amateur Photo Contest. There were so many good entries, it was
difficult to chose, but pictured on these pages are the best of the
best.
To show off this great amateur talent in living colour, all winning
entries will be on display by the fountain in the Royal Garden Plaza on
Saturday and Sunday, May 31 and June 1. The awards presentation ceremony
will take place by the fountain at 11:00 a.m. on Saturday, May 31.
Many thanks to the judges of this event; Alois X. Fassbind Exec. V.P.
Royal Cliff Beach Resort; artist, chef and author extraordinaire Dolf
Riks; Suphadit Maneeratcharatsri, M.D./Entertainment Royal Garden Plaza,
Shirley Rice from Pattaya International Ladies Club, and John Scotchmer
representing Pattaya Mail. Their job was a difficult one.
Also, many thanks to all the sponsors of this event; Amari Orchid
Resorts, Thai Garden Resort, Royal Cliff Beach Resort, Moon River Pub,
Benihana Restaurant, Bruno’s Restaurant, Music Cafe, and Siam Bayshore
Resort. Without them this contest would not have been possible.
2nd Place: “Golden Sundown on Golden Buddha
at Pattaya Hill” by Monika P. Rottmann. Monika will receive 2 nights
accommodation at the Thai Garden Resort (ABF included).
3rd Place: “Wide Readership of Pattaya Mail”
by V. White, who will receive 1 night accommodation in the Honeymoon
Suite in the Garden Terrace at the Royal Cliff Beach Resort.
(Above) “The Last Sunbeam” by Marion Vogt.
Marion wins a dinner for two at Bruno’s Restaurant.
“Spectacular View From My Chosen Home in
Naklua” by Monika P. Rottmann. Monika wins a dinner for two at any one
of the various restaurants in the Amari Orchid Resort Pattaya.
“Sunset Sail” by Niyom Apiratatapan. Niyom
wins a dinner for two at the Siam Bayshore Resort.
“Dream Island with a Big Charm” by Monika P.
Rottmann. Monika will be also able to eat a dinner for two at Music
Cafe.
“Mum’s Helper” by V. White, who is the lucky
recipient of a dinner for two at any one of the various restaurants in
the Amari Orchid Resort Pattaya.
“Kho Samet–Yesterday, Today, – and
Tomorrow?” by Monika P. Rottmann. Monika wins a dinner for two at the
Moon River Pub.
“Beautiful Without Sunset–Sunset Beach” by
V. White, who wins a dinner for two at the Moon River Pub.
“In The Summertime...” by Desiree Vogt.
Desiree will be awarded a dinner for two at Benihana Restaurant.
“Hang On...” by Michael Vogt. Michael will
be treated to a dinner for two at Benihana Restaurant.
(13) “Songkran Pattaya: City of Fun and
Tolerance” by Les Blane. Les will be treated to a dinner for two in any
one of the various restaurants in the Amari Orchid Resort Pattaya.
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“My visa run”,
or “What I did on my summer vacation”
by Bobby Joe
Visa runs! I used to hate them. Not any more. After running a small bar
in South Central Pattaya for the past several years I have come to look
upon the run every three months as a time to refresh the soul and rest
my liver for three days.
On this particular trip, the first day starts out the same as the last
run. The staff are late. When they do arrive they are hung over or
otherwise distracted. Last minute instructions are greeted with “I know,
I know. Don’t worry.” Two phrases that rally make me worry.
A half hour of mad rushing around and I’m off to catch the 11:00 bus to
More Chit bus station, wondering what I have forgotten this time. It
doesn’t take me long to realise that it is my bag of sandwiches. It
isn’t until later that the collapsible umbrella and my roll of toilet
paper make their absences known.
The 11:00 bus is sold out so I content myself with the 11:30 bus that
leaves late at 8:00, still plenty of time. I arrive at More Chit at 2:35
amid utter chaos due to the overhead rail construction in progress.
Still plenty of time to get to the Ban Sue railway station to catch the
Butterworth train by 3:30. The first taxi I flag never hard of Bang Sue.
The second one says “I know, I know. Don’t worry.” and off we go.
While sitting in traffic for an exceptionally long time I look up from
my book and see the Victory Monument. We shouldn’t be going past the
Victory Monument. I realise that I’m being taken to the main station and
not Bang Sue. There isn’t enough time to go the main station and catch
the train, nor can I get to Bang Sue now. I surrender to the fact that
all I can do is go on to the station and make new arrangements.
Suddenly traffic clears. “Wing, wing,” I shout waving a big 20 Baht tip.
We hit every light green but we are still not going to make the 3:15
departure. There is always the chance the train will leave late, after
all it did that once last year.
At the station I fling the fare to the driver and hit the pavement
running. I round the big board at track 5 and that is all I see, track,
no train.
One of the helpful touts says “Where you go?”
“I’m going crazy, leave me alone.”
“You go Malaysia?” he asks, “Train go three minutes already.”
I resign myself to my fate and head for the ticket office to make new
reservations when a portly taxi driver pops up out of nowhere and says,
“You go Malaysia? I take you next station, you get train. 400 Baht no
catch train no pay.”
Some quick calculations and I realise I have a worthless 1,000 Baht
ticket to Butterworth in my pocket plus 40% refund penalty on the return
ticket, plus a 500 Baht visa extension fee and a whole lot of hassle and
taxi fares and I realise that this is the best deal I’m going to be
offered all day.
“Let’s go,” I say, and we are off running through the station to the
parking lot.
The taxi is one of the non metered varieties. It is listing to starboard
on ancient springs compressed over the last decade by the weight of the
driver. In a mad dash across Bangkok we run four red lights, go the
wrong way down a bus lane for 100 meters, take a traffic circle the
wrong way and go by several policemen so fast that they don’t see us. We
go across the river and we really start going fast. Down back alleys and
side roads and we arrive at Bang Bamru station, a flag stop. I have ten
minutes to spare!
The train almost comes to a complete stop as I battle the pneumatic door
buttons as a bemused conductor looks down at me from the door I am
trying to open. As the train starts to pick up speed he finally pushes
the inside button and the door opens. I’m on! After removing a family of
six from my seat I order a bottle of Sang Thip, put on my fake stereo
headset and settle in for an uneventful trip to Butterworth.
Arriving late at 2:00 p.m. at Butterworth in a torrential down pour I
run, minus umbrella, for the ferry to Penang Island. With the consulate
closing at 3:00 I am cutting it very close. The ferry, slowed down by
the rain, navigates the crossing by feel since visibility is down to 100
feet. The 20 minute ride takes 30 minutes. At the ferry landing I enlist
a taxi to the Thai embassy. Taxi fares to the Thai embassy go up sharply
as closing time approaches. They really go up if it is also raining. I
agree to the inflated rate and arrive at the embassy with 10 minutes to
spare only to be greeted with a hand written sign saying “Consulate
closed today. Too many apply yesterday.”
As I look around the sodden and dejected group of backpackers and
Bangkok English teachers I see an old acquaintance, Mr. Singh, the gate
guard. Some quick negotiation and a healthy tip in the guard shack and
Mr. Singh discretely produces a visa application.
“Just sign it,” he says.
An additional Baht 1,000 for the actual visa and Mr. Singh is off for
the back door of the consulate building. A few minutes and Mr. Singh
reappears with a smile on his face and says “Tomorrow 11:00. Don’t
worry.”
It is too wet to do my usual pirate CD shopping so I settle in at the 29
Leigh Street pub for a long happy hour before a restive night at the
White House flop house.
Arriving at the embassy at a quarter to 11, I’m greeted by the same note
on the door and a bigger bunch of backpackers and English teachers, Mr.
Singh is no where to be seen. Looking through the glass door of the
consulate building I can see a big pile of passports with the
applications, still unprocessed, sticking out of them. Panic sets in, if
I miss the train to Bangkok I will have to wait for days for another
open berth on the train. Worse, I could take the bus, which will be full
of wet backpackers and English teachers.
I frantically search for Mr. Sing, I must have the passport in hand by
noon to comfortably make the 1:40 train. I ask some of the other embassy
lay-abouts where Mr. Singh is.
“He go lunch,” I’m told, “he come back soon, don’t worry.”
Mr. Singh appears at 12:15 wiping bits of chicken and rice from his
moustache.
“I’m late,” I shout, “go get my passport!”
“No problem,” says Mr. Singh, a phrase that makes me worry as much as
“Don’t worry.”
Five minutes more and Mr. Singh appears with a little blue book. He
hands it to an English teacher.
“Yours come next, don’t worry,” he says.
I begin to cry. Seeing a soaking wet, grown man crying in the middle of
the embassy compound spurs Mr. Singh into action and he rushes to the
back door of the consulate building. I watch through the glass door and
see the frantic waving of arms. The Consul General looks at my sad
little face through the glass then sifts through a pile of work in
progress and finds my passport and checks it against my face again. A
quick chop and a signature and he hands it to Mr. Singh who runs out the
back door and around the building. I take it from him on the run
muttering my thanks. “No problem,” he shouts in farewell.
The waiting taxi speeds across town as the driver explains that he needs
more money for waiting so long. I give him the last of my Malaysian
money as we arrive at the ferry landing. I’m first off the ferry and run
the 200 yards to the train station. I’m not sure of the exact time as I
have spun the hands on my genuine simulated Rolex to adjust for the one
hour time difference in Malaysia, but I know I’m close. I round the
corner at track two and again see only track, no train.
“Taxi,” I shout.
The burly platform manager smiles and says, “train late, don’t worry.”
The return train arrives at the Penang Basar border crossing amid
another down pour. I breeze through immigration and customs and settle
down on the train and begin to devour the bag of fried chicken and
spring rolls that I had time to buy, after changing more money, while
waiting for the late train. As we pull into Hat Jai on the Thai side of
the border an English teacher sitting opposite me, named Scott, looks
hungrily at my chicken and says, “I wish I had thought of that. I don’t
like this train food.”
“They sell barbecued chicken on the platform at this station,” I tell
him, “or if you really want fried chicken you can run across the street
to the KFC, but you gotta be quick, the train only stops for 20
minutes.”
Scott says he is going to go for it and I give him some money for a
large tub of cole slaw for me. As I get off the train to buy a Bangkok
Post and another roll of toilet paper, I see Scott walking slowly toward
the exit. “You’d better run, you only have 20 minutes,” I tell him.
“I know, I know,” he says, “Don’t worry.”
As we pull out of the station without Scott I wonder if he will enjoy my
cole slaw. It is a good thing he took his bag with him.
Home again in Pattaya. I walk into the bar and am greeted by the
cashier. “Big leak in the bathroom, also someone stand on the seat and
it break. Your lawyer says you forget to pay the sign tax, now pay big
penalty. George no pay bill, now he go England. Girl-friend you from
last year come from up country with her family, now they stay in
kitchen. Freezer stop, all the food go bad...”
“I know, I know. Don’t worry,” I say as I sneak up stairs and lock
myself in my room for three days to refresh my soul and rest my liver.
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