Love is not about being careful and nice, hopelessly waiting for birds to sing and flowers to bloom. Boy-meets-girl – end of boring story; yet this is exactly what is fed to us by Prem, Raj and Rahul – Three names occupying the Male-hero persona of all ‘good’ movies i.e. commercially better, and perceived as true cinema. It gives out an idea that either the creative minds are bad out of ideas or are working on a not so straight agenda. Regardless, the best part of watching a Modern Bollywood Masala is the Popcorn as these 3 hour-long commercials we pay to see, give us an undivided scope to enjoy that snack to the last bit, blow its plastic wrapper like a balloon and finally boom! But that’s not its purpose – popcorn and otherwise. It’s interesting to know that the thunder created doesn’t disturb the couples from losing their vague curiosity in the fairy tale projected to start some definite making out. Soulless stories making love-risk an end in itself.
Movies were supposed to be a form of art – a reflection of the present times. A mental space for recreation – showing the path to young minds looking up for the quintessential art of seduction. A reality suspended of its undodgeable fears and a voice teaching to chase courage. Instead all that running around the trees in varied costumes, buying obvious gifts to a chiffon clad posing under the fake waterfall has toned down the actual male persona, worst yet, destroyed it by misguiding to an exactly opposite direction – Turning men to be into un-opinioned, conforming, stuff- toy-gifting stuff toys; simply put, the infamous good-friend material; and young women into dieting-lifestyle junkies – Nipping instincts in the bud, literally.
Ten years ago modern India saw a movie starring a then 32-year-old as college boy – Saying the words ‘I am Kool’, sub-consciously letting the learners to believe that the Twilight of Youth exists for all eternity. The virtue of patience was never so explored to be exploited. Also, it also marked an era of fluorescence and the Country went vibgor. World could not have been more unhappy and gay. These kind of cinemas defaulted the dynamics of approach as boys were rendered nice and girls – drama queens. No wonder it sucked out the confidence of the entire population as the youth started expecting Intuition as a medium to express priceless magical feelings of love. It successfully stripped young adults of their moral fiber – leaving boys and girls having hard times in the rain, all by lonesome-selves.
From a foreigner’s perspective, it gives out an impression that the Top Film Production houses have a specific agenda against Men and Women having a straight orientation, either that or are addressing the issue of population explosion by mass male sterility – but nobility died with St. Teresa. Hence for developing eager minds, it created a temporary illusion that real people have gone back to their homes: Mars and Venus.
Bollywood did introduce a mundane definition of success and people started sleeping with their new told pretense, comfortably. Sense-of-humor was the quality damsels looked out for, in the quest for their prince, yet saw thrill in spiked punks with a hint of meanness and surplus of inconsideration. Pardoning the possibility that the negligent bastard might be a love child of an average corrupt politician and Hitler himself. But Hypocrisy, is a snake that never fails to come back and bite in the ass. As for newly turned ball-less nice guys, peace was being made with the age of drama queens. Evidently since unable to hold her – humor became the safe bait to get lucky, but a joker all the time mostly has to laugh alone; furthering the process of man-slaughter in every sense of the word. However, in the battle of sexes, fair’s value for sobriety and a young everyman’s cocky attitude, respectively required, are the gifts found only at the rock bottom of hopelessness.
Contrary to the popular belief real men and beautiful women have not gone extinct. The fact is, no matter how hard it’s tried, the killer instinct will never become the thing of the past. As all things con vaporize in the light of reality, modern cinema like Dev. D etc. acknowledge the truth that men can naturally be and are mannered motherfuckerz with mystic and Women – Wicked Angels, capable of turning a toad into a prince and post proof of worth, launch him the orbit. Men are confidant and leading and a real woman’s look infuses that sly vampire buzz. Madhubala’s Half-Century textured stare can still send a tsunami of libido across the nation, while these three-hour bikini ads easily go unnoticed. No wonder the size-zero followers are finding it difficult to turn on even a phone.
Might be at some level we all know that Feelings are a mess, and it requires hard-ass courage to feel that fever – That euphoria when it’s actually happening; to let your heart pound like voodoo drum, and skip a beat now and then while stealing a gaze; to let yourself flow with the divine energy in that moment of truth, touch and trance and to know, to see and realize how it feels to be alive on this very earth.
A woman once told me – anything that’s worth experiencing always comes with a risk. Although conveyed otherwise by the three bane idiots, every real life love-story waiting to happen is not an end in itself but a boulevard of new beginning. It’s about taking your chances, and knowing that it is certainly worth it.
However an interesting question that now occurs is: since when and where the in the hell were we while the truth was made ugly – may be at the movies projecting ourselves in false tales, definitely not making out.
About the Author: Dhaval Kolhapure is an alumnus of the Welcomgroup Graduate School of Hotel Administration. He Blogs at Nomadic Peeps.