The tale of two errors

This week I made two errors. A few days ago I read an article in the Times of India (That bastion of grapevine-journalistic excellence) about Rani Mukherjee changing her designer from Manish Malhotra to Sabyasachi Mukherjee and was left wondering, how in the nuke-proliferating, WMD-disappearing, Tsunami-ravaged, Quota-stricken, war-mongering world would such a piece of information affect me? And what inherent quality did this article have that made it front page news on one of the most widely read English newspapers in the world. To top it all off was the profound undertone of betrayal, treachery and deceit as if this one act would result in a denouement as treasured in history as the devastation of Troy. The moral is simple, never ever consider that what you read about in the papers or hear on the news has no bearing on you. Every happening in the world has a very dubious way of affecting you in some way or the other.

So there I was, feeling all disgusted and ready to blog an article on the insipidity of some of our media (because mind you some news channels make TOI feel like Shakespeare. Kya Mika, Rakhi Sawant se maaphi maangega? Kissa Kiss ka, jaari hai ). Then I made my second error. On a boring, frustratingly warm winter afternoon I walked into a multiplex to watch Baghb.. er Baabul ( Pardon my error, the promos of Baabul made me believe the fortunes of the Xerox Corporation were going to get reversed due to their latest in movie photocopying technology). My philosophy of movie-watching has always been any movie is better than no movie. It had a good run I’d say my philosophy; but as they say all things must end. To cut a long story short, I would have enjoyed four year olds singing twinkle twinkle little star more than the movie. I have never, ever and when I say never, I mean never ever walked out of a movie midway (see P.S.). But there comes that threshold beyond which the repulsion force of the protons grow much higher than the nuclear force causing a cataclysmic exothermic reaction creating a new man out of me running for my life from the multiplex. It was almost as if the director was going down a checklist, Bad acting.. Check, bad story.. check, bad dialogues.. check, bad music.. not so bad, well we’re going to have to try harder, lets redo the music.. bad costumes, which brings me to my original point. Just as I’m thinking whether Rani Mukherjee had a stroke to be wearing the kind of stuff she was wearing, my mind is making connections.. Rani Mukherjee.. Manish Malhotra.. betrayed for some Italian sachi dude.. front page TOI.. Well in conclusion all I can say is I think Govinda with his purple pants, yellow shirts, red scarves and blue shades would be very happy today since he’s out of the cellar. There’s a new worst in town.

P.S. To provide a bit of perspective on my tolerance to movies, here are a list of movies I’ve managed to sit through. Might I also add I really enjoyed some of them ;-)

1. Kis Kis ki Kismat (Mallika Sherawat and Dharmendra. Pioneers award for Bollywood toilet comedy which wasn’t funny.)
2. Lakeer (Take four big mean action heroes and make them cry through the movie)
3. Rudraaksh ( Lekin usko aapka sar ka password kaise mila? Need I say more. Ok.. I’ll say more.. Bipasha Basu is Sita and she’s a scientist)
4. Family ( The one with the producers son who’s the hero whose last line is Sumari mautsss nahi sumari zzssindagi hi sumaari sssazaa hai)
5. Khushi (Tum mere kamar ko dekh rahe the. Aaaaaargh!)
6. KANK (Sob.. Sob… God bless those cheating, adulterous lovers.)