Broad's mind

"You won't break your buttocks if you fall on your face" - Original

Bollywood is looking up. It is also asking us to look down and center. And leading the charge are the lascivious, libidinous, lewd, loud, lusty, living-in, long-legged, liposuctioned-lapped leading ladies. So where do we start from? Such is the abundance of estrogenic riches that Bollywood finds itself overwhelmed with. Do we start with that Haryana ke gaun ki ladki, who indeed has a few clothes with her, not sure that it is in her wardrobe though, as few skeletons were found there, eg. the rural legend or urban truth that she was a Lamba or a Puri and not a Sherawat as maintained by her. If it is Lamba, you have to award Kanti Shah for his foresight when he made the eponymous movie, Gunda, and included the telling euphesim for the process of baby production, "Lamba karna". Now I know what he meant. Actually, we won't talk about her. And also not about the nudie in Julie, who didn't mind her hips being called a container by her equally liberated director, for the sake of answering one question in the affirmative; is the oldest profession an art?
We shall talk about a spunky and spiky West Indian instead, who has taken the idea of being "different" to the pinnacle of glory. Enough of Saas-Bahu we said. Take Maa-Beti she said. No we don't want that simpering holier-than-thou-viewers-look we sighed. Look at this regal, legal, familial wrangle, her highness purred. Bollywood has to be different. New ideas should germinate. So, I filed a case against papa and mama for embezzling MY 12 crores, she said. We said, an actress will earn that much, even in generous Bollywood, IF she happens to be a star, IF she happens to be a star-kid, IF she has been around for 20 years. Isn't their money, mine? She quizzed. Good question. Bad education. Her parents deserve it we thought. Every parent deserves it, but alas they send their kids to school.

Poem: Olympic Theme

Go for gold,

Go for gold,

our last one is ages old

Go for silver,

Go for silver,

win, kill, gazump or pilfer

Go for bronze,

Go for bronze,

then we'll have a song and dance

Mubarak ho! Aap baap ban gaye

"An optimist is one who thinks bullshit is fertilizer."
- Who else, but Navjot's husband

Since we have been discussing the importance of films in our lives, we have to understand the sub-conscious psychology that lies beneath various filmy aphorisms*. In Bollywood, every time someone starts with a "Mubarak ho", it is quite clear that a woman in the movie had gone out of pregnancy and entered motherhood. How many instances can we recall when a "Mubarak ho" has been followed by a "aapka beta paas ho gaya" or "Hindustan cricket match jeet gaya". It always ends with "aap baap/dadi/dada/mama/mami ban gaye" or at times, thanks to a crude script-writer "aap aur ham aaj se samdhi ban gaye". I feel a Freudian analysis would reveal that this is one of the main reasons why India has gone supersonic in producing babies, but so quick in improving the education standards. In the deepest recesses of their minds, these film-wallahs are not concerned about their kids joining a good educational institution. All that matters is that a sperm has joined a ovum. Well, they might argue that they are endorsing gynaecology.
But Mithun da is different. In his monumental (some say it is more mental than monu) film Do Numbri (which translates literally into number 2, as in, mummy! mujhe number 2 jaana hai), three actresses vomit a bowl of curd each, which signifies that someone is about to get the Mubarak ho thing. But it turns out that it is Mithun da himself who is responsible for the multiple-pregnancy social disorder. But rely on him to make a suspence film out of a tricky social and gynaec problem. How can 3 ova live with one sperm at the same time. Bollywood has seen polygamy, but not an orgy. Anyway, unorthodoxy is Mithun da's game in this superb commentary on moral values and immoral hook-ups.
But I have to end this with a report on the doyen of Bollywood badmen, Loin. Ajit saab was with Mona darling after she had heard the news of her pregnancy. Even though Loin was not happy with the quality of rubber that they had smuggled, he was happy.
Mona darling: Boss, hamare bachche ka kya naam rakhenege?
Loin: Agar ladki hui to uska naam Maria rakhenge aur Nick Bolletieri ke Tennis clinic mein bharti kar denge. Choonki woh hamare sperm aur tumhare ova ko milake bani hai to woh Maria Spermanova banke Wimbledon jeetlegi.

Mona D: Agar ladka hua to
Loin (after 2 days of thinking): Mubarak ho. Jab woh baap banega, log banenge, Mubarak ho baap ban gaya. Kisiko pata nahi chalega kaun baap bana.



* Aphorisms = A short pithy** instructive saying
** Pithy = Concise*** and full of meaning
*** Concise = Expressing much in few words...hooof, thank god it wasn't a recursion****.
**** Recursion = Forget it, get back to the article.

Duniya Gangai

How important is a family song? I am amazed at the lackadaisical attitude shown towards the concept that was introduced by Bollywood. Yaadon ki Baarat is a milestone in Indian cinema not because Vijay Arora managed to get to romance Zeenat Aman, but because it made famous this hardly remembered, much-unabused style of music. So much so that even I had forgotten about it until an African film director reminded me of the great tradition. In the award-winning "Abouna", a movie set in Chad (which has an uncanny resemblance to Bihar), in the final scene, a son sings (as well as his vocal chords let him), "Duniya Gangai..Duniya Gangai". Just when you begin to cringe with embarrassment at his untrained voice, his mom (who has gone into a harmless coma, where she hardly talks), joins in. And just as melliflously flows the Duniya Gangai. The movie ends there. As I walked out of the auditorium and for the millionth time posed the question at myself, "What is art?", from a corner of my southern cerebral hemisphere, a voice called out and asked, "Why the hell did the movie end there?". And then it struck me! I had just revisited the endangered art of family songs. The mother had taught her son this song so that whenever there was a serious change in the way their lives existed, he could sing this song and hope that status quo was maintained. It happened in Yaadon ki Baarat, it happened in Abouna. Chad and India have nothing in common except Bihar. But the universal tradition of a family song has united the two nations. Here's hoping for better bilateral relations between Chad and India, with the blessings of the family song.