Gunda Becomes Jawaan

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gunda

Gunda turned eighteen this weekend. Or to put it in Gundese “Haye haye mera Gunda jawaan ho gya, toota hua teer kamaan ho gya”.

What began as a closely guarded secret in male dorms across the country, like a shared password for that orgy in “Eyes Wide Shut” except there are no women, all men, and all of unappealing body-types, and while imagining this, also imagine the stench of sweat, the musky odor of wet underwear drying in the breeze,  and only then do you begin to get a faint flavor of the origin of this global phenomenon.

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Stop Hating on Bobby Deol

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Between Ashutosh’s assault on the English language, the activities of Gau Rakshaks, the melting of the ice caps,  and the shamelessness of Indian sports officials, I thought I had become impervious to the evils of the world.

Till I saw this.

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According to a source, Bobby played the tracks from his old film Gupt throughout the night! Yes, that happened! And by the end of the night, the people at the club were left fuming, and were seen asking for a refund from the hotel officials! [Link]

Who the eff are these wannabes? I played songs from Gupt, in a loop, for five years, and I got my PhD. And they can’t take it for one night, and that too from the man whose film it was?

They deserve Pulkit Samrat. And Somnath Bharti. And Raaz the Reboot. And KRK dancing to Beat Pe Booty. And Honey Singh desecrating “Dheere dheere se”.

They do.

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Of Potty and Parenthood and Piku

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AB

 

[Has spoilers]

Piku is a good film. No this is not me trying to damn with faint praise. Piku *is* good. Even more than good, I would say it is courageous. In a world of  cookie-cutter behemoths , to invest in a film that is paced slow, driven by characters, and set in a non-Oye-Oye-Shava-Shava socio-cultural milieu, requires commercial cojones, and props to everyone associated with Piku, from the big B and the Choice P to the director to the guys who actually put money behind it, for providing us with something that I would not hesitate to use the term ‘risky” to characterize.

However it is not great. But it could so very well have been. It comes  very close, several times as a matter of fact, to touching something that is deeper and darker and universal, but almost, whether intentionally or not I cannot say for sure, it draws back into a comforting, crowd-pleasing but ultimately unsatisfying green zone.

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A Travesty

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Bhai is innocent. Bhai roxx.

It’s not sunk in for me yet. A movie that began with a hit and ran for thirteen years has finally come to an end and I can’t believe how that climax played out.

First of all, Bhai was not driving the car.  He said so. He also said he is a virgin. I mean come on.

Second, he was not drunk. His blood just turned into alcohol. Or as it was explained by a forensic expert “Sharaab aur khoon main apni marzi se peeta hoon…dabake” (Wanted, 2009)

Dabake dabangg dabangg dabangg….

Third, his driver was driving his car. He said so himself. I mean isn’t that obvious? Driver…driving…car. And if it wasn’t him, and I am not disputing what the court said because I fully respect the law, it could have been any one else.

Raina’s nephew. Kambli’s friend. Hindu patriarchy. Maoists. Media saazish. Sab mile hue hai. Amit Shah.

I don’t know. But definitely not Bhai.

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A Thousand Weeks of DDLJ

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Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge.mkv_010744749

Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jayenge is a thousand weeks old.

That’s a long time.

To put it in perspective, a thousand weeks ago, Narendra Modi was a small-time politician in Gujarat, Kohli was eight years old, Vinod Kambli still had a future and I was in first year.

My how days fly.

And yet it seems to be just yesterday that we were introduced to the great patriot Baldev Singh (Amrish Puri), who tracks pigeons from Punjab so great is his desh-bhakti, but who, despite the deep rumblings for mitti ki khusboo, never visits his desh, perhaps because he is too busy looking at “goree teeetli” and drinking Black Dog, (Ok wrong film), his wife the beatific Lajjo, an anthropomorphism of ghee and aloo parathas, their well-fed daughter Simran with a proclivity for dancing in the rain in itsy-bitsy skirts,  Raj Malhotra, the character that would be played by the actor, Shahrukh Khan, for the next twenty years in more or less every film, and his father, played by Anupam Kher, who would beat Sonia Gandhi hands down as the parent of the century.

It seems to be just yesterday that DDLJ came into our lives.

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What Could Have Been

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[Published in DNA, November 11, 2012]

There are quite a few things from my teenage years that I cringe owing up to, none perhaps as embarrassing as having been a shameless Shahrukh Khan fan-boy. As a matter of fact, I was so Madan Chopraaaa crazy that I would occasionally dress up SRK-style (I still have photographic evidence of me in my Ramjaane-inspired get-up) .

Those days, there was a hero vacuum in Bollywood. Amitabh Bachchan, after a disastrous run in politics, was turning out turkeys like Toofan and Akela, fast descending into the rabbit-hole of Dev Anandian obsolescence. Mithun Chakraborty was preparing to pack his bags for Ootie, Anil Kapoor and Jackie Shroff were on their ways out (they didn’t know it yet of course), Aamir Khan and Salman Khan were still finding their feet through a series of chocolate-boy low-key romantic roles, Saif Ali Khan was thought to be a Sharmila Tagore lookalike with no future, Akshay Kumar was cavorting in speedos as “handsome man” Mr Bond and producers considered Rahul Roy a viable sole-hero.

Yes things were that bad.

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