Ties that bind...
Sushmita Bose -
Monday, September 22, 2008 8:41 PM
It's been a strange turnaround for Bollywood. In the 1980s, when I was growing up and beginning to form my own opinions, it was hopelessly déclassé to watch Hindi films; if you even had a bone of pedigree in your skeletal system, you wouldn't be caught dead looking at Sridevi in a frilly dress and Jeetendra in his trademark white shoes singing songs like "Ice cream khayogi? Disco pe jaogi?"
(Of course, there were a few movies -- Shakti, for instance, or Ijazzat -- which were 80s vintage, but that passed muster.)
Now, it's a different story. Bollywood is now a billion-dollar industry; it's posh, and genteel and global and all of that, and it's the coolest thing to walk into a multiplex in Ghaziabad and get a lounge-class ticket for Rs 300.
A few days ago, I watched a movie in my hotel room in Dubai, called Bandhan Kachche Dhaagon Ka - which means ties made of (or with) delicate threads (the sort that snap easily). This, I actually went and checked online, was the classic déclassé vintage. The movie released in 1983.
If I had been in Delhi, and the movie had been playing on any of the satellite channels, I'd have pushed the remote button very, very hard, so that I didn't have to witness a single frame even.
In Dubai, I couldn't take my eyes off the screen.
It was weird, but I felt a sense of binding because it was Bollywood - and I seemed to derive a huge amount of comfort from the fact. I'm pretty certain that if Donnie Brasco or My Best Friend's Wedding or Seinfeld or EVEN The Simpsons was being telecast on another channel, I'd have given it a slip. And happily watched Bandhan Kachche Dhaagon Ka.
A friend called from Delhi (because I had been cribbing how expensive it is to make ISD calls from Dubai), and I asked him to call me back later. "I'm watching a great film," I explained excitedly.
"You call me then," he said angrily.
Oh, okay, I muttered good-naturedly - a state of being that, of late, has become almost alien for me.
I went back to watching a portly Shashi Kapoor, who's called Prem, get all lovey-dovey with his wife Rakhee (Bhavna), while one son and one daughter dutifully romp around them. It's the perfect family album.
But then it's not.
Prem gets a call from Sneha - played by Zeenat Aman - and his life turns upside down. Here's why.
Prem and Sneha had gotten wet once in the rain (while on a business trip), sung a song, and cuddled up together (even though naughty boy Prem was married to Bhavna, and already had the two adorable kids by then).
Then, Bittu is born to Sneha. He's Prem's nishaani. But of course, Prem doesn't know a thing. Then, he finds out because Sneha calls him to tell him that she's dying of gastric cancer and that he better take care of Bittu.
Bittu is quick on the uptake, even though he's only 8 or 9, and tells Prem that he'll call him "sir", not "papa", so that Bhavna aunty doesn't get suspicious. Having said that, Bittu comes to stay with Prem and Bhavna (who thinks Bittu is Sneha's son by some other man), while Sneha, clutching her stomach (because she has gastric cancer) goes to the US for treatment.
There's also Prem Chopra, who tries to blackmail everyone in the cast.
I could go on and on with this amazing story, but I don't want to kill the suspense. Please watch it at your own risk.
I loved the movie to distraction. I have no idea why.