Just because he hasn't turned up around these parts in a while, Mr. Upen Patel. Yup - still stunning. His constant stream of importuning e-mails has trailed off, but only, I think, because Mr. Muscato threatened violence; if only the poor boy would accept that it's simply not meant to be...
I can't think what could have put poor dear Upen Patel into such a pensive mood - unless it's the prospect of doing up all those buttons. Or the sudden realization - having been reading Peenee again - that what with International Male more or less folding, he'll never be able to replace that shirt with any other garment as utterly tawdry.
I really don't know what to say. This vision of our dear Mr. Upen Patel is just so wrong on so many levels, and yet at the same time it is unquestionably riveting. One truly didn't know that Bollywood ventured so far out toward fetish-land, but what else is one to make of it? It looks like a still from one of the more ... adventurous gentlemen's studios, not of course that I'd know anything about that.
You know, I never really got the whole bubblebath-candles-sexytime thing. But if anyone could change my mind (Mr. Muscato aside, of course), I suppose it would be dear Mr. Upen Patel. Although I find the sculpture just over his shoulder potentially unsettling...
Our dear Upen Patel really has had some questionable fashions foisted on him whilst modeling. Here, he proves definitively that even the handsomest man is no match for a male shirtwaist (a mirtwaist?) in some Subcontinental version of macramé.
I can't think of a pleasanter way to brighten up a late-summer Monday than with a nice shot of dear Mr. Upen Patel in his PJs, can you?
Every day I get up, root around the 'net, and feel inspired by the passion, articulate discussion, and real commitment to contemporary issues that can be found on social, political, and personal blogs of all kinds. And I think, I could do that - there's so much material to be gleaned from living overseas, from being in a relationship, even from, I suppose, reading all those damn blogs.
Oh, Upen, Upen - you know I'm helpless in the face of a good faux-Hurrell portrait. But no! I have to be strong. It simply isn't meant to be. I could never reconcile Koko to a stepfather.
In honor of today's good news out of India, I thought it might be nice to have our first ever non-potentially-illegal look at our old friend Mr. Upen Patel.
I think this austere little study of studly Bollypop Upen Patel captures a certain je ne sais quoi reminiscent of Hellenistic portraits like those of Antinous - by which, of course, I mean that in a fair world, he'd be about to take off that belt and go full-bore Greek nude. Ah, well - a boy can hope...
We've seen Upen in white before. Here, however, he is clearly delivering some good news...
...news, in fact, that appears to be intimated in this possibly coincidentally posed study. 
But whatever relation this new information has to actual reality, isn't it nice to know that on top of everything else, he likes dogs? I wonder if Koko would get along with some new siblings...
Proof positive that even the greatest beauties can suffer serious, serious glamour-stumbles - one can only think that the stylist at this catwalk event was in the pay of one of our dear Mr. Upen Patel's Bollywood rivals. 
In between rebuffing the Ganges-Gorgeous one's ceaseless protestations of devotion, I have to keep reminding him that, when it comes to clothing, less is more. This sarong is a step in the right direction, for example, but I remain hopeful he'll take it a step further.
Mumbailicious screen king Upen Patel at his morning toilette. For no other reason than the play of light down his back. And possibly for the proof, in his intent expression, that despite his endless protestations of devotion (to which I remain, as ever, wholly impervious), his deepest affection is reserved for what he sees in the mirror.