RIFF MARKET

---

Throughout this week and probably next, Riff Market is proud to publish some friends' remarks on Music 2006, with the emphasis on riffs. Each contributor was asked to spend only 35 minutes on his piece, though there were no particulars given topic-wise. Check back mid-day for the next one. Thanks for reading. --NBS

---

In December of this year, Leila Lakshmi conducted this interview with Vali Chandrasekaran for Sapna Magazine. For reasons unknown to Riff Market, the interview was never published (foul play is suspected). Ms. Lakshmi's estate has granted Riff Market permission to run the interview below:

An Evening with Vali Chandrasekaran
By Leila Lakshmi

I always arrive fifteen minutes early to my interviews. It helps me get my bearings, compose myself, and come up with a few witty/charming things to say during the conversation. I agreed to meet “My Name is Earl” writer Vali Chandrasekaran at a restaurant he suggested called & (pronounced EY-nus). None of my LA friends had heard of this place and I could not find any reference to it on the internet, but Vali assured me it was real and gave me the address only after I promised not to reveal it in the article. I arrived at & even earlier than normal only to find Vali already there. I was about to voice my surprise when the maître d’ shushed me, explaining, “Mr. Chandrasekaran will be ready for dinner in twenty minutes, when he’s finished meditating.”

At the exact moment the interview was supposed to start, Vali emerged from his trance. “How’s your drink?” he inquired as he started a quick set of one-armed pushups.

“One of the best I’ve ever had,” I replied. “What’s in it?”

He finished his pushups and returned to the table.

“The main ingredient is a wine distilled from some rare orchids that I grow. I bring some into & as often as I can.”

“Stop right there. What is this plac—“ Before I could finish I noticed a man leaning over Vali, whispering something into his ear. At this moment I first took notice of Vali’s appearance. His statuesque face. His endless brown eyes. His ferociously well-tailored dinner jacket. Then my eyes snapped back up to the man now patting Vali on the shoulder. Or should I say: my eyes snapped up to see Jack Nicholson patting Vali’s shoulder.

“Anyways, thanks for the stock tip,” Nicholson said as he left. Vali looked embarrassed.

“I owed him one,” Vali explained. “He let me borrow his race horse last week to settle a bet.”

“You race horses?”

“I race against horses. Anyways, where were we?”

He races against horses? Was I being subjected to some manner of elaborate prank? Is this the sort of thing he thinks is funny? A little professionalism doesn’t seem like too much to ask from an interviewee. Kal Penn (cutie!) didn’t try to pull any of this bullsh*t on me. I wasn’t going to waste any more of SAPNA’s time and money on this joker. I resolved to walk out on this interview, but before my brain could signal my limbs to take me out of this place, Vali grabbed my hand and whisked me back into the kitchen.

We moved quickly though the kitchen. Vali barely slowed to share a wordless fist-bump with Mario Batali who, similarly, didn’t miss a beat in his heated conversation with Tom Brokaw. (We were moving quickly, so all I heard of the conversation was Batali screaming, “No! I don’t care what relative is coming to town. You gave me those NASCAR tickets as a gift and I’m going to use them!)

After we left the kitchen we began walking faster and in what felt like circles. At least twice, Vali abruptly stopped and started walking back in the direction we just came from. We must have walked through twenty different doors or the same door twenty times before passing through a final door. Behind that final door was a man in a lab coat and a dog flipping through an issue of Foreign Affairs magazine.

“Leila, this is Doctor Aristotle Williamsport and the reading dog is –”

“—just kiss me,” I implored.

“Shut up, this is important,” he shot back in a voice that wasn’t coddling or mean, yet was tender and authoritative.

“You know why he won’t kiss you, don’t you?” My brain struggled to understand what just happened; the words sounded like they just came from the dog. Then I watched the dog’s mouth move as he enunciated, “He won’t kiss you because he’s gay.”

“Stop saying I’m gay!” Vali roared back at the dog. The dog just snickered. “I apologize,” Vali continued. “This dog was captured by the CIA in 2002. Saddam was so violent and paranoid, he could not trust any of his lieutenants or even his own sons. Everybody had a reason to be disloyal to Saddam if the right opportunity presented itself and Saddam knew this. So the only living thing that Saddam trusted was his beloved Labrador.”

“Saddam Hussein had a talking dog?”

“No. Saddam had a trustworthy dog. His dog, this dog, accompanied him at all times.”

“I have a name, human,” dryly noted the dog.

“Of course. Hamid, accompanied Saddam at all times. He was present when Saddam was developing his weapons program and war secrets. Back in 2002 I was working with Dr. Williamsport on a method, the Vali-Williamsport method, to teach animals to speak English. We approached the CIA and two weeks later we had Hamid.”

“Is that how we captured Saddam?”

“In a way, yes. It was not due to information Hamid gave us. It took us about six weeks to get Hamid speaking English. We expected a deluge of information useful to the war, but it turns out we underestimated the bond between Hamid and Saddam. Still loyal to his master, Hamid refused to give us any war secrets – even when doggie treats were offered as rewards. However, the kidnapping of Hamid apparently broke Saddam’s heart. Without his loyal friend and trusted confidant, the old man just gave up.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I think I love you,” Vali said as he closed his eyes and leaned towards me. I did the same and our lips met and wrestled. A few minutes later, Vali and I walked out of & arm-in-arm. It was the perfect ending, just like in every Shahrukh Khan movie.

91 YEAR-END RIFFS

Labels: year-in-riffs-2006