So Bollywood's got me blabbering again.
Last week with my aching limbs I went to see Ae Dil Hai Mushkil and returned with an aching heart. Aching limbs, not because of early budhaapa but because chickenguniya has struck maliciously and is eating up the last traces of jawani in me. Chickenguniya, you bitch. And aching heart because Karan Johar, really how could you kill my expectations like that? For fifteen minutes of Ranbir-Aishwarya you made me bear two hours of Anoushka Sharma. And then you don't even get them to kiss. Shya. I want my money back. And not in old notes, please.
And even though I had preempted Anoushka getting to my nerves with the poorly overacted "Mother to India hote hain, tere Milkha nikle" dialogue in the promos but bhai saab, she's pure annoyance in the totality of the frame. And that story which just went on and on and on and you doze off and still on and on and on and you get your children married and help deliver their babies and return to your seat with hair colour and still on and on and on. Oh my good Lord! I had defended Kabhi Alvida Na Kehna till my voice went hoarse. But this one, sorry Mr Johar. You probably need to get laid. And quick. People, stop wasting my beloved Ranbir.
The elation I had felt on dear 'dhinka-chika' Asin getting married and that means no more having to watch her in promos and songs, has been fizzled with the likes of Shradha Kapoor, Yami Gautam and now Anoushka Sharma. Like really, women, can we not have that wide open gaping facial expression on seeing the hero, with hands trying to cover the mouth stunt? Few things in the world are as unnerving as that, except of course this snapchat flower tiara filter that's doing the rounds. Like hello boys, no. Please don't wear it in your pictures. Any dint of masculinity that maybe latently present in you, gets dug a thousand feet deep and remains buried there forever.
Ah well! Dangal looks exciting. When I watch Aamir making these poor little girls gear up for pehelwani, the inner instructor/educator/world-changer in me comes alive as I am tempted to do the same with Seeya. Chal beta, je le apne zindagi. But there's one slight hitch. That gadda type wrestling tool which these girls round about their heads...I fear Seeya might take it round her head and then hit it on mine and run away. So yeah. No listening to bursts of inspiration there. I just might as well take her to watch it and hope her antar-aatma gets a jolt itself somehow. And then she mentions me with gratitude in her speech post winning a few Olympic medals. Sigh!
Dear Zindagi ~ Finally a Shahrukh Khan movie that I plan to watch in the theatre after like a vrat of many, many years. The last I saw Shahrukh on big screen was when he was doing "haule haule se hawa rukte hain yaar" and mere saansein wahin ruk gaye the. I felt I needed either therapy or CPR immediately. Well, since it was a late night show, G had to do the honours with the latter. And that must have been one angry session at the unbelievable stupidity we had witnessed in the garbs of a film. I had sworn off, in, up, down, on Shahrukh since then. Not that he made efforts to redeem my faith. We just silently ignored each other.
Anyway, the promo on television now is of Force 2. Don't worry people, I'm not even thinking of going to watch it. We need to gather all our acting skills to tell people like John Abraham and Arjun Rampal, how super sexy models they are, so they somehow retire from making the efforts to act. Force I mention here because finally Sonakshi seems to have lost weight. And I am in private dialogue with the Almighty- "Ab toh Sonakshi bhi patle ho Gaye bereham, khush toh Tum bahut hoge aaj? Tumhare ghar mein der he nahi, andher bhi hain. Hmphf." And I devour another bowl of Knor soupy noodles in my anguish and despair.
Oh and I absolutely love the promos of Befikre though. Wish the heroine didn't do that red thing in her hair and invested that money on padded bras instead. I almost each time, end up comparing Ranvir and her chest outbursts while they're together in a frame on screen and damn, Ranvir wins hands down. Really like someone do give the poor 'gareeb ek-haddi bachche' some food before and after he puts his mouth in hers. He seems to be sucking it all in, along with her flickering energy. So I have a premonition already ~ it's going to be one silly too much shoo-sha and no show kinda flick. Sigh!
Meanwhile some other filmmakers continue to make movies like some Wajah Tum Ho. Like really? Like why? You think we morons are standing in long queues to get our precious 2000 notes to squander on you? This presumptuous, eh? Wow.
And Modi ji, do you know when we go to these movies, we dish out a cool 400 bucks on just popcorn and a coke. Ji. We need a cleanliness drive there too. "Popcorn Ki Black Market" - I can already read the next big headlines breaking the internet. No? Okay.
Anyway, Happy Bollywood-ing!
