Can we have some answers please?

It's a Saturday morning, a lovely Saturday morning at that. The sun is just right, the kind that's mild, not depressing-mild, but just-bright-enough-to-brighten-your-day mild. Yes, that's the kind of sun, we are talking about here. A day when your neighbor's 7 month old decides to let you have peace. Yet chooses to break the eeriness with her periodic giggles and attempted-chatter. Sweet. A day when the newspapers have features by your favorite writers. Favorites of Radia or not. And a day when Assam and Darjeeling forget their ego battles, and unite for the greater cause, of pleasing you that is. To give you that perfect cuppa. Yes, it's that kind of a day.

You get yourself out of bed, and get in to the treadmill. You run a mile. In eight minutes. You could run another. Right now. But you decide to shower. To get ready and seize the day. The bathroom looks goodhousekeeping-clean. You believe in angels. You get out of the shower, go to your closet. You can't decide what to wear. You like everything you see. Thanks to the ongoing SALE. You have quite a loot in here. But on a day like today, nostalgia is what the heart seeks. You reach out to the jeans you wore in college. And guess what? It fits. Beautifully. There's God. You step out of your home to walk into that quaint neighborhood bistro, where you and your friends are to meet for the weekend brunch. You reach the place, your friends are already waiting for you. You are looking as fresh as a daisy they say. So does the chef as he walks in to announce brunch is on the house. Why? Because you look so pretty. Could you ask for a more charming reason? The menu has been revised he says. It includes all that you love. He vanishes in to the open kitchen. You see him get to work. You see oranges being squeezed. You hear the sausages sizzle and smell the freshly baked croissants. The chef returns shortly. The table is laid. The spread is delightful. The chef comes to you and asks you to leave. Leave right now he says. You and your friends pick your belongings and prepare to leave. And as you close the glass door behind you, you watch the chef sit in your table, pounce on the food ravenously.

Yeah, and that's the feeling I was left with after watching Dhobi Ghat. Lovely. But not quite. Crafty. But very unfinished. Awesome. But abrupt.
Mrs. Aamir Khan, around here, we love nice stories. Nice stories with endings. It could be a happy ending or a sad one. You decide that. But not a random one please.

Nothing playing at a theatre near you.

Come Friday, I no longer wait for what Bollywood has to display. I know, it will be something utterly insipid, foolish and totally worthless. I know what Bollywood's a) art house classics are, I know what b) wholesome entertaining films are, I know what c) romantic comedies are, and I of course know what d) not-trying-to-fit-in films are.

And I am so done. So done with Bollywood and its promises. Week after week after week, Bollywood has failed us. No, I am no great movie buff, nor do I always appreciate and recognize cinematic brilliance, yet looking forward to good, watchable movies aren't much to ask for.

A little repeat is no biggie, I admit. But, you can't give me love, betrayal, adultery, period dramas and the underworld, again and again and again. You just can not. Why can't there be a movie on the Mumbai during rains, the political scene, the Nandigram episode, the 26/11, gay rights, the IPL, the North – South divide (just having an Ayyo Swami and an Oye Puttar in the script doesn't count), the state of north-east students in Delhi, etcetera.

Hollywood has its good share of absolute trash too, I agree. But at least they have some variety in that trash. They try, they fail. That's respectable. What Bollywood does, isn't.

Is it a case of they don't know better? Unlikely, given the stuff they talk about in interviews. They come across as intelligent, witty people, deeply influenced by the best in their craft, and trying to get better. Hell, even Fardeen Khan talked sense. In one of his earlier interviews, he spoke at length about Martin Scorsese's Goodfellas and Roman Polanski's Chinatown and how he is greatly influenced by that sort of a storytelling. Then why a Prem Agan? I know, I know it's like saying if I can go on and on about the Marlboro Man, I can create one. No, I can not. But wouldn't I try... Prem Agan isn't a try.

Shah Rukh Khan's interviews are pure magic. His films aren't. The point is why doesn't he try, he could, with that kind of money, he could try anything. But he chooses not to. No, don't you blame them. They are just out there, doing their job, making great money while they are at it. You and I are to be blamed. I am guilty of watching Om Shanti Om and Swariyaan on a single day, for the lack of something better to do. I feel terrible about having watched Bachna e Hasino. What was I thinking? After which, I swore to never watch a Chopra or a Johar again. It's been almost a year, I've managed to stay off it. I should have watched Dilli 6 though, reviews weren't too good, but what the heck, the guy is getting out of the clutter. I will watch most of Anurag Kashyap too. And guess Imtyaz Ali too, we don't have anything against love do we... it's about how you show us love.

We are so used to this mall-movie-eat out weekends, that we are ready to settle for just about anything. Any movie would do. And that's exactly why they get away with churning out any kind and any amount of trash. This has to stop.

While there are countless so much more serious issues to think about, we could do our part. Perhaps, all it would take is to find something 'else' to do during the weekends.

Let us do something about it. Because you and I are responsible for the art we put in the world and in that multiplex too.

Dev D is a sensuous feast.

Super chic visuals, stylish characters, escapisms that you can almost relate to, locations you have been to, clothes you want to be seen in, pretty colours, riveting music and a happy ending... What's not to love?

Really, there's nothing about Dev D that I didn't like. And if you are all for offbeat, Dev D has loads of it. The cast is perfect, very unrestrained, very believable. Abhay Deol is delectable, I wanted him to keep having a good time and just keep seeing him. But, how can this guy be related to Bobby 'Bicchu' Deol or Sunny 'No if no but sirf jatt' Deol', however Abhay Deol as Dev D will redeem your faith in Bollywood actors. The two women in the film, are great finds too, both good actors and utterly refreshing. One is well nourished while other, genuinely thin, not south beach thin, not power yoga thin but the high-metabolic rate thin. Oh yeah, the love scenes... I loved them, very stylized yet real. Brazen yes, but will you cringe? no.

Moments of discontent? None. Unless, you have a problem with
being manipulated into wanting Dev to be with Chandramukhi,
Dev not being in enough pain or pinning enough for Paro,
Dev living happily ever after.

Not me, I liked what I saw, everything. And I want to see more of Abhay Deol, Kalki, Mahi Gill and Anurag Kashyap. Nice.

Chopras, Johars, ... shoo!

The pure, unadulterated Hollywood way.

There's more to the Bollywood-Hollywood divide than the latter's superior animation, story, special effects, acting, script, background score and dialog delivery, etcetera. It's the way Hollywood falls in love. It's not about their bold declarations. No, not after Kareena's Saifu got that tattoo. This is not about the older woman-toy boy stuff either. Certainly not after the vintage beauty queen Aishwarya Rai chose the much younger Bachchan Boy over a matured hulk, or our anti-wrinkle cream expert Sushmita Sen's ongoing list of suitors.

So, where's the divide?

Cameron Diaz & Paul Sculfor are looking for a new pad in NYC.
Paul Sculfor who?
Sienna Miller and Balthazar Getty, spotted cuddling.
Balthazar Getty who?
Matt Damon met his wife Luciana Bozan in Miami.
Luciana Bozan who?
Okay, you get the drift. Sculfor is a nondescript model, Balthazar Getty, a television actor Luciana Bozan used to be a bartender.
Hollywood falls madly in love, it actually does what Bollywood preaches - pyar me dimag se nahi dil se socha jata hai. Awww! So, Hollywood I think is into pure unadulterated love; love as it was meant to be.

Not so in Bollywood, where stars always court someone equally or more famous or moneyed, NRI surgeons do make frequent exceptions of course. A Bollywood damsel would readily be the third wife of an ugly, aging, rich fatso film producer. But never fall for a nobody, talent and looks notwithstanding. I wonder why? What could you possibly do with more Armani, more pent houses or more trips to anywhere that you've already been to over 50 times?

Why wouldn't you rather be home with someone cute, share a laugh and lead a regular life? Beats me.