The Write Guy

Anish Trivedi — famous for his dry wit and drier Martini— is out with his first book

It couldn’t be too much of a stretch to compare him with Oscar Wilde—both were men of letters,both impeccably dressed and both captured the spirit of their times. Only,Anish Trivedi loves women,too much perhaps. Acerbic wit and his love for women aside,Trivedi,49,a seasoned society columnist,is finally out with his first novel,Call Me Dan,which will be available from August 12 at bookstores.“It happened when I met Prita Maitra,the commissioning editor at Penguin,socially once. She asked me to write a book,sent a contract and I signed it,” recalls Trivedi,dressed in a crisp white shirt,slim Prada sunnies and well-worn Ferragamo shoes. “It took me 30 days over two years to write it,” he says.Call Me Dan,he says,isn’t “about slumdogs or underworld dons. I’m not writing for a Booker”. It’s a ‘Bombay’ novel about a young man,his BPO job,pushy girlfriend and nights at The Ghetto pub. It has a twisted middle and a mysterious ending. Trivedi’s columns for Sunday Midday,over 15 years ago,made famous single malts when everyone thought Black Label was their ticket to sophistication; Bordeaux and Burgundies,when the only wine plonked was Goan port; tuxedoes (in Mumbai’s swelter) and cigars (before Bill Clinton corrupted them).“Tariq Ansari (proprietor of Midday) and I are old friends. He asked me one day,‘You go out all the time,why don’t you write about it?’,” recalls Trivedi. He says he made many enemies as he took everyone’s names — from a model and fashion designer snorting cocaine on a toilet seat to.