I suddenly realized on a lazy Sunday morning that G leaving Mumbai has had an adverse impact on my movie viewing. As I sipped on my milk and crunched into the delicious taste of Pure Magic biscuits, I realized that I have skipped quite a few over the past, most notably amongst them being Hissssss and a few more sssss.
The married men refused to go being scared of their wives, the married women had no intention of watching the movie and the couples typically follow the wish of the women in such matters.
The single men in their quest for looking cool and cultured refused to accompany me, the single women probably wondered if I doubted their intelligence by asking such a question and I figured going alone to watch Hissssss and a few more sssss would confirm to my sister that I had lost it, finally.
Super Cooler landed in Mumbai from some Chinese city and called me up to watch Letters to Juliet, it being my kind of mush and I guess it was. You know, the kind where the world is a beautiful place, where people sip wine and quote poems on love and don’t have to make PPTs during weekends. Ahh, the lives of such people. Action Replay was however a mistake. Happy Boy and his wife insisted that I watch the movie and all I wanted to do after the sumptuous dinner that she cooked was to sleep. The popcorn was the most interesting part and the next thing I know the autowallah got me from Thakur village to the Sea link and said, “Bandra aa gaya hain.” Sea Link always looks beautiful in the night. Hauntingly so.
But G is not the only reason. I realized I have tons of unread books that I must make an effort to complete now. It’s unfair to hoard them like some demented ruler hoarding diamonds. But I needed to buy books and so I got a few more for the love of my life and she loved them. Ahh, the lows a man must stoop to in order to make a woman love him. Bruno, Bubbles and now Pepper, her three best friends will now be with her.
The third most important reason for movie viewing taking a beating has been the Reality Shows. Last couple of weekends I have tried to figure out what’s happening on the shows, how the TRP games are being played out and how Kiran Bedi’s role has now gone to Rakhi Sawant. But amongst all of them I love Masterchef India. The contestants are real people. The emotions seem original. The evaluations are rational and apart from the fact that they are randomly getting Bollywood to come and endorse the contestants, the show’s brilliant. I know it’ll probably lose out on the TRP game but to me it’s a winner. There are obvious flaws. I love it for the love of food but the viewer has nothing to gain from it, no recipe, no insaaf, no ek crore, no Dolly Bindra.
But there have been seldom any movie I have waited for with such eagerness than this one - Khelen Hum Jee Jan Se perhaps will be a fitting testimony to the valour of the independence struggle in Bengal. It has always pained me somewhere that the so called Athenian traits of Bongs have completely overshadowed the Spartan gallantry. We have been called Anglophiles and the babus of the Raj and people easily remember Bhagat Singh a lot better than Masterda. Bose, as Benegal correctly puts it, remains a forgotten hero and I don’t like it a bit. Chattogram Astragar Lunthan (The robbery of the armoury at Chottogram) was perhaps one of the strongest blows to the might of the Raj and I would love to see it on celluloid.
Till then, I am busy knowing Lisbeth Salander.