Mottu’s standing on the threshold looking sheepish. I know that look, go away Fatty. She doesn’t budge. I know she won’t till she’s spun me some yarn about some chhota mota Bollywood type. Turns out he’s some guy called Rajesh Khattar. Who’s he? Forget I asked that, only Mottu would care about him.
Anyway, seems this Rajesh whatever was shooting in Durban’s central district for Prince. His van was parked at a distance from the set and after every shot, when he’d return to it, about half-a-dozen burly bodyguards would protectively escort him back.
To start with, our Mr K felt like a VVIP. But after the initial rush, the extra security got exasperating. And finally our abhineta waved them away saying he could manage to make the trip on his own.
And guess what he was told? That they were not concerned for his safety but that of the gold jewellery he was wearing as a part of his get-up. Since Durban wasn’t too safe, they didn’t want to take a chance with the sona.
Our Mr K pointed out that hey, the items weren’t pure gold anyway. To that, pat came the answer, “You know that they are fakes and so do we. But not the chain snatchers.” Touche!