Sunday burst in with its usual bout of energy beneath the initial laziness to its routine. At 6:00 am, it made me lazy enough to contemplate attending the evening service. But as the minutes and hours unravelled a breezy sunny day from the darkness of that hour, I decided to throw my contemplation into the bin.
I got up, shaved, made the right noises about breakfast, attended Mass, sprinted back home, drank my glass of Complan (Yes, I am still a school boy!), then ran to Sion circle, finished my driving lessons, and finally, strolled home.
You may be breathless by now, and needless to say, at the end of that sequence of events, I was nearly so, too.
And as I threw myself into a chair that sat in the hall, my breath left me altogether.
"What are you watching?"
"What do you think it is?"
"I see Dimple Kapadia and I think that song is from Lekin."
"Right you are," said Sister Dearest, "That is what I am watching."
"Please no! Not that movie. It's so boring."
"Oh shut up! As if you know!"
"Of course I do. Dimple wafting around as if she's on drugs and Vinod Khanna not quite sure whether he's drugged himself."
"Really, can you be a little kind Gary? It's not quite that you know."
I scratched my head thinking about that and then said: "Oh yes, it's Lata Mangeshkar's production! So it has to have a number of songs!"
"Oh get lost will you?"
"What now?"
"You want to watch or no?" That sounded like an ultimatum that really was rather sincere.
"Yes," I said.
"Then watch quietly."
And so I watched. I watched Dimple Kapadia sleepwalking around pretending she's a ghost. I watched Vinod Khanna half-bored that he signed up for the film and half-eager to take his shirt off and warn us all about the effect of ghee-soaked parathas. And - surprise, surprise! - I watched the late Amjad Khan turn in a rather refreshing restrained performance for the first time.
"As if you did not know he was in the movie."
"No! I didn't."
"And you're a fan of Hindi movies it seems."
"Was," I said, correcting her, "Was. Now no longer."
"Yes right. Did I download Kabhi Alvida Na Kehna or did you?"
"That was just curiosity."
"Shh! Watch now!"
So we went to back to the movie again. Two - Yaara Silli Silli and Surmay Shaam - out of the dozen melodies were great stuff to hear. The rest needed a classical ear and that - try as much as I might - I cannot grow. So I did the next bext thing: I began to pick faults yet again.
"Look at him walking towards the house. If only they could snip all the walking these people do, this movie would have been several hours shorter."
"Anything else?"
"Haha! Oh they are so slow! Can't they just stop the singing and get to the point? The poor girl (Dimple Kapadia) is stuck in an era gone by and has to cross the sands of time. Can't they just get on with that?"
But no, that did not happen. Instead, Hridyanath Mangeshkar inserted several ragas and I don't know what else that - frankly - put you to sleep. Now I can understand the need for music in a movie, especially in a Bollywood movie. They lighten up, or at times set, the mood. But here, in this ghost story, all of it - save two - served as spectacular sleeping pills and dragged down the pace of the narrative. To make matters even worse, the script - after allowing so much of time for the singing - very irritatingly decided not to explain certain aspects of the plot. As a result, rather than being serenely spooked, you are seriously hooked to the idea of hoping the horror vanishes off the screen.
I began to think about that and nearly left that line of thought for a book when Sister Dearest brought me back to it.
"Oh it's so slow!" she whined, as she watched part 8 of the 15 parts of the movie uploaded on Youtube.com.
"I told you!"
"Really so so slow!"
"What do you expect?"
"Really just because Lata produced it doesn't mean she had to sing so much!"
"That too in a ghost story! What was she thinking?"
"Evidently, all her spirits have great sur and taal! Haha!"
"Either that or she's hinting she will never ever stop singing!"
It was then we realized we were talking about one of our all-time favourites! Needless to say, we went into an apologetic mode almost at once.
"Really we mustn't be saying all this. Surely there is some art here."
"Yeah, and we must have been blind not to hear it."
"See it you mean?"
"I am sorry, what was that? I didn't hear you."
"Oh shut up."
"Haha!" I said, giving up to my self ultimately, "oh but if you don't like a thing doesn't mean you need excuses for it to not be liked. See? I didn't like it anyway."
"Not even Yaara Silli Silli?"
"Who said that? I just don't want to wander all over Rajasthan singing that!"
"You're incorrigible, really!"
"If she can be with all her singing, so can I."
"You are incorrigible!"
I smiled. I decided to give her the benefit of doubt and took up some F. Scott Fitzgerald.
----
Epilogue
I was in the bathroom. The water splashed all over my feet and I did not mind that one jot. But what I did mind was an incessant mumbling that approached the bathroom door second by second.
"Yes what is it now? I'm having my bath!"
"Oh I found out how he got in."
"Who got in?"
"Vinod Khanna!"
"And where did he get in?"
"In the prison!"
"In the prison?"
"Yes, you remember she took him with her after singing Yaara Silli Silli inside the haveli? And then after she disappeared, he found himself locked in?"
"Who's she?"
"Dimple Kapadia man!"
"Oh yes!"
"Well same strategy! She did the same when she took him inside the prison."
It took me 20 seconds to connect the dots between the two scenes. And then I realized the dot on which should have rested the final connection didn't actually exist!
"Glory!," I yelled as I wrestled with the scenes in my head and the water in the bath, "Did you see her take him inside the prison?"
"No."
"Then how can you say it's the same strategy?"
"Because there is no other explanation!"
"A bad script leaves no explanation."
"Right! You love it the Hindi movie way - explain it all!"
"Well, it was Lata presenting blah blah. It has to be that way!"
"Anyway, I am satisfied I have an explanation."
"You have the wrong explanation!"
"Really, then what's the right explanation?"
"The movie had holes in the script."
"That is an excuse for not having an explanation."
"Exactly."
"What I told you was the reason why he was found locked in the prison."
"For which the script has no explanation."
"Oh just get lost! Finish your bath!"
And the mumbling that had risen to a crescendo swept away into the hall.
I got up, shaved, made the right noises about breakfast, attended Mass, sprinted back home, drank my glass of Complan (Yes, I am still a school boy!), then ran to Sion circle, finished my driving lessons, and finally, strolled home.
You may be breathless by now, and needless to say, at the end of that sequence of events, I was nearly so, too.
And as I threw myself into a chair that sat in the hall, my breath left me altogether.
"What are you watching?"
"What do you think it is?"
"I see Dimple Kapadia and I think that song is from Lekin."
"Right you are," said Sister Dearest, "That is what I am watching."
"Please no! Not that movie. It's so boring."
"Oh shut up! As if you know!"
"Of course I do. Dimple wafting around as if she's on drugs and Vinod Khanna not quite sure whether he's drugged himself."
"Really, can you be a little kind Gary? It's not quite that you know."
I scratched my head thinking about that and then said: "Oh yes, it's Lata Mangeshkar's production! So it has to have a number of songs!"
"Oh get lost will you?"
"What now?"
"You want to watch or no?" That sounded like an ultimatum that really was rather sincere.
"Yes," I said.
"Then watch quietly."
And so I watched. I watched Dimple Kapadia sleepwalking around pretending she's a ghost. I watched Vinod Khanna half-bored that he signed up for the film and half-eager to take his shirt off and warn us all about the effect of ghee-soaked parathas. And - surprise, surprise! - I watched the late Amjad Khan turn in a rather refreshing restrained performance for the first time.
"As if you did not know he was in the movie."
"No! I didn't."
"And you're a fan of Hindi movies it seems."
"Was," I said, correcting her, "Was. Now no longer."
"Yes right. Did I download Kabhi Alvida Na Kehna or did you?"
"That was just curiosity."
"Shh! Watch now!"
So we went to back to the movie again. Two - Yaara Silli Silli and Surmay Shaam - out of the dozen melodies were great stuff to hear. The rest needed a classical ear and that - try as much as I might - I cannot grow. So I did the next bext thing: I began to pick faults yet again.
"Look at him walking towards the house. If only they could snip all the walking these people do, this movie would have been several hours shorter."
"Anything else?"
"Haha! Oh they are so slow! Can't they just stop the singing and get to the point? The poor girl (Dimple Kapadia) is stuck in an era gone by and has to cross the sands of time. Can't they just get on with that?"
But no, that did not happen. Instead, Hridyanath Mangeshkar inserted several ragas and I don't know what else that - frankly - put you to sleep. Now I can understand the need for music in a movie, especially in a Bollywood movie. They lighten up, or at times set, the mood. But here, in this ghost story, all of it - save two - served as spectacular sleeping pills and dragged down the pace of the narrative. To make matters even worse, the script - after allowing so much of time for the singing - very irritatingly decided not to explain certain aspects of the plot. As a result, rather than being serenely spooked, you are seriously hooked to the idea of hoping the horror vanishes off the screen.
I began to think about that and nearly left that line of thought for a book when Sister Dearest brought me back to it.
"Oh it's so slow!" she whined, as she watched part 8 of the 15 parts of the movie uploaded on Youtube.com.
"I told you!"
"Really so so slow!"
"What do you expect?"
"Really just because Lata produced it doesn't mean she had to sing so much!"
"That too in a ghost story! What was she thinking?"
"Evidently, all her spirits have great sur and taal! Haha!"
"Either that or she's hinting she will never ever stop singing!"
It was then we realized we were talking about one of our all-time favourites! Needless to say, we went into an apologetic mode almost at once.
"Really we mustn't be saying all this. Surely there is some art here."
"Yeah, and we must have been blind not to hear it."
"See it you mean?"
"I am sorry, what was that? I didn't hear you."
"Oh shut up."
"Haha!" I said, giving up to my self ultimately, "oh but if you don't like a thing doesn't mean you need excuses for it to not be liked. See? I didn't like it anyway."
"Not even Yaara Silli Silli?"
"Who said that? I just don't want to wander all over Rajasthan singing that!"
"You're incorrigible, really!"
"If she can be with all her singing, so can I."
"You are incorrigible!"
I smiled. I decided to give her the benefit of doubt and took up some F. Scott Fitzgerald.
----
Epilogue
I was in the bathroom. The water splashed all over my feet and I did not mind that one jot. But what I did mind was an incessant mumbling that approached the bathroom door second by second.
"Yes what is it now? I'm having my bath!"
"Oh I found out how he got in."
"Who got in?"
"Vinod Khanna!"
"And where did he get in?"
"In the prison!"
"In the prison?"
"Yes, you remember she took him with her after singing Yaara Silli Silli inside the haveli? And then after she disappeared, he found himself locked in?"
"Who's she?"
"Dimple Kapadia man!"
"Oh yes!"
"Well same strategy! She did the same when she took him inside the prison."
It took me 20 seconds to connect the dots between the two scenes. And then I realized the dot on which should have rested the final connection didn't actually exist!
"Glory!," I yelled as I wrestled with the scenes in my head and the water in the bath, "Did you see her take him inside the prison?"
"No."
"Then how can you say it's the same strategy?"
"Because there is no other explanation!"
"A bad script leaves no explanation."
"Right! You love it the Hindi movie way - explain it all!"
"Well, it was Lata presenting blah blah. It has to be that way!"
"Anyway, I am satisfied I have an explanation."
"You have the wrong explanation!"
"Really, then what's the right explanation?"
"The movie had holes in the script."
"That is an excuse for not having an explanation."
"Exactly."
"What I told you was the reason why he was found locked in the prison."
"For which the script has no explanation."
"Oh just get lost! Finish your bath!"
And the mumbling that had risen to a crescendo swept away into the hall.
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