The first post Amchi Mumbai appeared on August 11, 2007 and last week I celebrated eight years of blogging. This month, a guest post appeared on Garima’s blog. Here, I come to celebrate the blog’s anniversary with spoof, the movie way, ek dum jhakaas style and striving to be as entertaining, adding as much zing as possible yet simple. Hope you will appreciate the gift to my followers and loyal friends.
Not just a spoof! The Eternal Romance
The big fat Indian Wedding is blowing the trumpet louder and louder at Oberoi Hotel as a huge banner of Shaadi.com is displayed sparkling lights and fire works in Mumbai. The fat Punjabi aunties indulging in gossips about Pammy’s daughter broken engagement or Bhai Saab had an affair abroad, oblivious to the wife and children as they voraciously munching jalebi, gulab jamun and Samosas. Expensive alcohol flowing in the Shaadi.com, the wedding of the daughter of Prem Singhania’s daughter Twinkle to Rajveer, only son of funky Malhotra couple. The same Malhotra uncle who can’t live without his scotch and gone are the days when he had to order his favorite from UK. He tweaks his moustache and often thank Sardar-ji to make things happen in Desi land, much like the cows of Punjab, who delivers milk swiftly to Mumbai. He gets patriotic and teary eyes singing, Mere Desh ke Dharti’ sipping his scotch with pride. See! India is a global country now.
Babu-ji’s grave look eyes the crowd, the girls decked in short skirts and wearing back shoulders Sari and Salwar Kameez and the boys acting so cool in Pathani suits and going videshi wearing expensive and flamboyant tie and black blazer on shining funky shoes. He adjusts his grey moustache, feeling sorry how those kids have lost the Indian values, shamelessly grabbing the hands of giggling girls to dance on the floor in front of the crowd. He nods to his ardhangini, “Lajjo! No laaj no sharam, these kids, I tell you. I thank Wahe Guru our Simran is not like that, though she parties and drunk chupke se in her friends home. At least, she doesn’t bring shame to our name. Modern world. Why need to go to Amreeka or London to be like that? India has become global now”
He sheds a tear: “Oh! Lajo! I am missing my shop in London that we had to close down because of this recession. I hear this Raj Malhotra, along with his useless father Vir is here. Hide Simran, hide Simran. They grew up together and remember when they were 10 he kissed her. I was so stupid to think mere bitiya would become pregnant with that kiss.”
Lajjo was growing impatient seeing that how after just two pegs, her daughters’ Babu-ji and Chaudhry Baldev Singh is already down. “Lajjo! I tell you, remember how this Raj at the age of nine stole milk from my shop at the close time and his dumb friend who is now a film-maker in Mumbai, judging dance shows in his free time.”
Babu-ji and Lajjo were looking for Simran when the former badly wanted another peg to make his heart swing to ‘O! Mere Zora Jabeen tujhe Maloom Nahin, tu abhi tak hai haseen aur mein jawan tujhpe Kurban meri jaan meri jaan. Lajjo was already feeling shy and didn’t know where to hide her face when Chutki pours a dream for Babu-ji. “yeh lijiye Babuji,” Chutki flashes her million dollar smile. The adopted daughter of Baldev SIngh and Lajjo who was found abandoned has swallowed a chill pill and had a close brush with diabetes for being over sweet and super smart, at the number of prizes she bagged in school.
She took a deep breath and took a sip of Appy juice, the time for her cup of knowledge to flow in her mind. It’s the tube light moment, “Miss Lucy theek kehti hai. Sharab or Babu’s scotch may not be bad for the health aise Anurag Kashyap ne share kiya Facebook pe. Enjoy your scotch, Babu-ji. It’s all social activism that wage war against your scotch to make Arvin Kejriwal cough syrup cheap.” Babu-ji is proud of his Chutki.
The half-intellectual teenager sneaks out of her Babu-ji and Lajo’s watchful eyes to down a peg of whisky when her eyes caught something that made her almost crash on the floor, banging against the waiter whose tray filled with whisky and Vodka fell on the floor. Chutki adjusts her rimmed spectacles and her head is going round and round. She just can’t believe what she just saw, Simran is making out with someone in the dark with a guitar on his shoulder.
The 16-year-old laughs at the stupidity of his sister,”Now, who makes out with a guitar guy. What would Miss Lucy say on that? Ok! Perhaps, Miss Lucy would say one shouldn’t get carried away with a socially awkward guy like Harry Potter with guitar or else the sound will trouble her in the sleep. Bhagwan ji! Help my sister, she doesn’t what she is doing and is high on alcohol. Babu ji’s heart will be broken seeing her with a guitar guy. How Babu-ji hates guitar. He likes Piano. Oh! Thank you Miss Lucy.”
“Simran!” Chutki shouts out and Simran pushes her mouth away from the weird guy. The guy, brushes his ruffled hair with his hand and removes his spectacles, opening his arms to protest and his mouth is wide open seeing Chutki. “Have I been caught? It’s this dumb teenager and Simran is her sister. I stole milk from her Dad’s shop. I hooked up with his daughter. Father was right…I am so dumb…I pass exams when I need to fail.”
Chutki walks towards them and shouted when seeing Raj, “You!!! Stealing from Babu-ji shop and hooking with my sister. Miss Lucy is right, no good guy in the party to hook up with. Now, what will happen to me! Wahe Guru. See, what example my sister is setting. I am sweet 16 and it’s no age to fall in love but read poetry. That’s what Miss Lucy says. Any kind of street smart will fool you, Simran. Abhi teri umaar kya hai, Simran.”
Simran slaps Chutki on her head, “You Miss Luci’s Chamchi. Just shut up with your philosophical crap. By the way, Raj and me are together for the past one year. I dare you tell Babu-ji anything. Stop sounding like Grand-Ma.”
Raj run towards the waiter and bribed him for a bottle of whisky and gives it to Chutki, “Now, you hide it and drink. A token of love from your Raj, Miss Chutki.”
Chutki harmlessly flirts with Raj, “I think I like you, Raj. People I like calls me Chutki and you won over my heart. See you, Raj.” As she runs happily with the whisky bottle, Chutki turns around and shouts at Raj and Simran, “Your bad time has come. But, Miss Lucy tells the measure of true love is fighting till the end and when you badly wants something, the entire world conspire to make it happen. Babu-ji and Lajjo have seen both of you together. Now, go and watch DDLJ”
“Raj, I am telling you, why don’t we run away? You are being stubborn. Mom is not willing to listen and convince Babu-ji to marry us,” Simran yells. A cool Raj asks, “What did your Mom said?” Simran says, “Mom says that she loved someone and her Babu-ji never let her got married to her Prince charming and will not let me be with you. Oh! Selfish Mom. Gas! I tell you.”
Raj lits a cigarette, “Now, let me think and scratch my head. What to do? You go to Punjab and I am sure your Babu-ji will try find someone for you and I’ll bring Popsie with me. He gets the best of magic ideas by tapping his right hand on the bald head.”
Simran slaps Raj, “Babu-ji kabhi nahin manege.” He is shocked and Simran apologizes, “Sorry, my Raj. I am so stressed with so many things on my head. This chutki idiotic philosophy who only dreams of hot guys and reading stuffs that makes me blow my top.”
“It’s okay Simran. Aise bade shehar mein chota sa thappar hamesha lagta hai mujhe for teasing girls. They keep slapping me,” Raj runs his hand on his hair and asks, “But, why Babu-ji no manao! I am hot and sexy, super cool.”
Simran wants to murder him right now. “You know, dumb Raj. I had this conversation with Babu-ji. Why the fuck you stole milk from his London store? To complicate matters, Babu-ji came to know about your gotra and he went for match-making to our priestess, Radhe Maa and she says, one shouldn’t go ahead because you will never find a job and will ask Babu-ji for money in form of dowry throughout the year.”
Babu-ji is sitting on his throne and spoke majestically, cutting his moustache with a scissor, “I have decided that all of us are going to my homeland, my Punjab, my land..mere mithi. I have fixed Simran’s wedding with Kuljeet, the son of my childhood friend, Ajit.” Simran protests, “Nahin!!! Nahin!! Babu-ji, I loove Raj.”
He shouted and roared like a lion, “Shut up you idiot. Mata Radhe has said that your respective Kundlis and gotras don’t match.” Raj is sitting on the stairs smoking when his father, Vir Malhotra snatches his cigarette, “What happened? Why are you smoking like a Devdas?” Raj shrugs off his Dad’s concern, “Nothing! It’s just that Simran is getting married in Punjab.”
Vir slaps him, “Bloody Ullu ka patha! You sitting like that all depressed.” He kicks him on his bum, “I am going to kill you. I just found your first year results. You have brought disgrace to the family name. I am shocked, yaar. You got first class, asshole when your great grand father, grand father and me your father, flunked. Why don’t you stand in front of a moving train and die?. Now, come with me.”
“Where?” Raj protests.
“Oye! Kothe! You want to win her heart and you sitting idle, just playing guitar. Let’s go inside Maratha Mandir. You’ve watched DDLJ so many times and not an idea entered your brainless head. It’s been playing for more than 25 years here. Today is the last show,” Vir Malhotra drags Raj inside Maratha Mandir.
Sitting for almost one and a half hour, Raj is biting his fingers and thinking about Simran,her stern but drunkard father, obsessed with some Radhe Maa who likes to party in free time and the bloody kundli and gotra. On top of that, he stole milk in the store as a child. It’s interval and both father and son walks towards the canteen. A three year old was eyeing a cute girl whose parents were dragging outside, since she was crying non-stop. The small boy loosened himself from his parents tight clutch and shouted, “Simran, mein aa raha hoon.”
Raj laughed at the child and says, “Kitna stupid bacha hai.”
His father laughed at him, “He’s smarter than you. Learn something and go to Punjab for your love.” Raj starts yelling, “Simran!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I am coming for you, Baby. Mein aa raha hoon. Yeh Modern Dilwale apne Dulhaniya ko leh ke jayenge.” The crowd turns around and looks at him running out of the theatre towards Mumbai Central Station to catch the train for Punjab.
PS: By now, you must have guessed, it’s a spoof on my favorite romantic love story ever made, Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jayenge. Come and beat this one, I dare new age film-makers high on sugary romance. It’s a tribute and not just a spoof. It’s called Complicated DDLJ. Wait for part 2.
i am high on DDLJ. With Love