Mehbooba
DIRECTOR: Afzal Khan
ACTORS: Manisha Koirala, Ajay Devgan, Sanjay Dutt
There is a moment in this movie when the hero (Devgan) is finally close to getting the girl (Koirala), quite literally, of his dreams. Her image had been haunting him for many years in his sleep. He'd painted her across the walls of his stadium-sized living room. He finally sees her, and chases the pretty face across the streets of Budapest; keeps yelling, "You're my mehbooba, mehbooba (lover)."
She is a heart-broken girl, dumped out of vengeance by her ex-fianc. She candidly admits a huge problem to her new hero when he proposes. "Kya tum chal sakoge uss raaste mein, jisme kisi aur ke gande pau ke nishaan hai?" (Would you walk a street muddied by someone else's dirty feet). The reference is to the loss of the heroine's virginity. It isn't much before we find the good-boy hero throwing himself all over a 'mujra' girl. Guys, it appears, can have all the fun; most of it random.
This is more the case with the other leading man here (Dutt). He says every woman can be bought; only their prices vary: some you win over money; some others over promises or commitments. Really, now. Where on earth outside Osama's cave are you supposed to encounter such honest, public displays of misogyny in times so boring and politically correct such as these.
The voice of reason eventually emerges from the mother of the household. She tells her son, "Insaan chahe jitney logon se affair kar le, shaadi ussi se karta hai jisse woh pyar karta hai." I'm not going to translate that one. I just love it the way it is.
The movie itself, I felt, had probably waited nine years to stun us with the set-up of Sanjay Leela Bhansali's Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam once again. It's got practically everything shipped down from that unit. I just didn't know this one has already taken eight years in the making. I didn't realise as well it would take me on a nostalgia trip further many years.
I found again the old Bollywood daddy I've missed for long: the one who wears velvety night gown, sometimes (as in this film's case), over his formal shirt and trousers, and black leather shoes in his home. The chandelier swings once in a while when the hero hits the family piano to a melancholic tune (Ah, kya melody hai!).
When we're happy or sad, we swig Scotch straight from bottles, most of the times, bottoms-up. Every song, and there is a pop-kathak with apsaras after a bit of disco before a raunchy or a romantic number, claims a collection of hundreds of shadow artistes; some with their violins, many others dancing in steps impromptu. If there is a party, a jashn, you will always spot a few extra-blonde goras at the corners, looking pleased with the state of affairs. There was Kader Khan I got to see after years, it seems.
"This 'open-weekend' (no other new release in the theatres); multi-starrer; hit film hai jee", is of course a "love triangle". Except the heroes are brothers. Beyond which you're unlikely to care.
The makers have spent crores and crores building for us one Taj Mahal after another. That is when we're not touring the Eurpoean country-sides, or getting bedazzled by the snazzy lights of New York City. The least we can do is spend a hundred or two, and break our heads against the wall after. Come on, that isn't asking for much. Risk it for memory's sake; in case you were up and about through the '80s and early '90s, when this was truly our staple source of entertainment.
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