First and foremost you need to look  darn good with a goatee and wavy hair. Else you never going to get noticed by the single hot professor chick. Also you better chose a girl who dumb enough to buy your shit, but not very dumb because you need her to have a US-Visa and all the other legal stuff. Of course you can thank allah when you profuse love to her, for she isn’t going to see through that anyways. When you’re making out in the staff room and other popular Delhi landmarks, the girl is surely not going to pay attention to why you prefer to thank allah
for
all the snoggingthank allah for all the snogging you received.  Then you wait for the goodie-bag moment wherein most couples would break up citing the logistics of long distance relationships. You then go the extra-mile and propose marriage instead. When a woman is pretty low expecting to breakup, the idea of marriage with you sacrificing your career for her and offering to start all over is sure to be lapped up.  Now unless she is a hard-core feminist, it can comfortably assumed that she wouldn’t have an iota of doubt of your intentions when you offer to travel as a dependent. Just because the girl is dumb, doesn’t mean her father will be the same, but that is where you rely on your dialog-baazi. When quizzed upon how his daughter will be received in your family, you just retort by asking him to take you in. Now no father can comeback from such a heavy dose of sentiment that just hits the spot. You are then assured a free hand in the wedding without any references, background details or presence of friends and family at the ceremony.

When you step foot in the US and clear immigration, you can sing another song around the popular NY landmarks and do the lovey-dovey couple thingy. Make while house-hunting, you make sure she finds the ad about an Indian community thereby making it seem that you were merely agreeing to check out the place. Since we’ve already established that your wife is pretty dumb, it is pretty safe to assume that she is not going to find it weird most women in the community wear hijabs and walk with
their heads kept lowwear hijabs and walk with their heads kept low. She might feel strange when the women don’t sit with the men, take care of homes, do not work or talk openly, and behave all submissive to get beaten up by their husbands. You however need to be careful for one of these submissive wives could harbor thought of free speech and leak information to your wife. Don’t worry however, for you can easily shut your wife up by telling her to stay out of things that don’t include her and not encroach on the neighbor’s private lives. When your neighbors free-thinking wife mysteriously disappears, you wife may try to contact her reporter friend and liberal musilm fiancée. Now the way to identify a liberal muslim according to the Dharma productions guide is to look for a beard. Clean-shaven jeans-wearing american-accent putting muslims are liberal, while the rest aren’t.

When the heroine in a movie says that she has a doctors appointment, it could only mean one of two things. Screen time is devoted only when the heroine is either pregnant or diagnosed with
a terminal diseasethe heroine is either pregnant or diagnosed with a terminal disease. Thankfully in our case it is the former, for we have other people who are yet to be bumped off. generally when women find out that they are pregnant, they goto the nearest ‘Babies R Us‘, or start eating weird things like raw mangoes and tamarind. Wives of terrorists however snoop around the neighborhood to eavesdrop on a terror attack being planned on a plane. Upon finding the corpse of the free-thinking hijab-wearing neighbor, instead of calling the cops they run to their husbands. Now that your dumb wife confided to you instead of the cops, your mission is still safe and you can finally come out of the closet. By closet, we don’t mean ‘the closet‘, but merely revealing your true identity. It must be observed that jihadis are never gay, why in the world will they otherwise sacrifice themselves just so that they can be with 72 virgins! Her being dumb requires you to elaborately explain your plan and how you had her eating out of your hand all the while. While you ponder on letting your wife to live, she is busy trying to get someone on the phone. With nobody picking up thrice, you begin to wonder if the cops are also in the scheme. Just that it dawns that you overestimated her intelligence for a while, she wasn’t trying to get the cops but instead prevent reporter friend from boarding the ill-fated flight which anyways ends up in a fireball and ends up leaving a voicemail.

The liberal muslim reporter fiancé, though distraught by his loss comes to work the next day only to find the shocking voicemail waiting for him. Just because he is liberal doesn’t guarantee any intelligence and rightfully so, instead of calling the cops he decides to take matter into his own hands and attempts to join the terror outfit. The easiest way to join a terror outfit is to take a class on Islam and then go foul mouthing
the UStake a class on Islam and then go foul mouthing the US about atrocities against the muslim brethren in Afghanistan and Iraq. If you have to dispose a body and get pulled over by cops then don’t panic, just go around shooting madly and blow up your car while getting shot in the crossfire. We do need your bloody bullet-ridden chest for the poster, for if you remember that is how this movie began in the first place. If there is one thing that John Rambo has taught us then that would be to remove bullets using sharp objects. In such cases your psychology professor wife can double up as a nurse and not only remove the bullet, but also treat the wound. Having lost a man in the car accident, you invite your new liberal muslim student to take his place in your dastardly plan. Having judged his courage after he points a gun to a sandwich stall owner, you let him in on all your plans of blowing up the subway system without any background checks. When your new recruit asks your wife for help on retrieving info on the possible targets, what does she do? Well that deserves a new paragraph!

To justify the second half of the promotional poster and turn on the heat, the heroine will attempt to seduce you. Yes you read it right, despite cheating her, treating her like shit and using her to fulfill your fanaticism, she will present herself in full backless glory to give us all what we’ve been waiting for. All this effort just to steal the plans of your mission while you sleep after some hot loving time, or she could have just waited for you to sleepcould have just waited for you to sleep! Liberal boy will finally call the FBI but divulge no details, when this was something he ought to have done many reels before. Jihadis may seem stupid but aren’t actually, and they pull ahead their plans to blow the subway, just in case someone got smart. Now you pack away the women in hijabs to go buy powder-lipstick while you and your band of merry men board the trains with bags full of bombs. What are the chances that at the very last moment, our reporter boy’s cover will be blown? Pretty high infact and the best way to handle a traitor situation is to shoot like crazy in a train during rush-hour. Now your mastermind will get shot and while you fear the failure of your mission, he will reveal that it is the women who are infact carrying the bombs and hence all is well. You quickly pull out your cutting pliers and defuse the bomb you are carrying.

What about the women and more specifically you wife and soon-to-be-born child? There stands the directorThere stands the director, and this masterclass twist. You will suddenly out of nowhere have a change of heart and turn a new leaf, just like that. Of course we shall offer some lame explanation that you already lost a wife and child in the past, and hence don’t wish for history to repeat itself. Our FBI officers will now finally show up and locate another jihadi, only for him to blow himself up. In a fitting tribute to Vijaykanth/Sunny Deol, despite being a few feet from the explosion our officer will walk away witha few bruises and alarm all stations to find the others. Clearly we seem to be enjoying blowing up stations and hence shall have another bahadur officer who will give his jaan-ki-baazi to defuse a bomb in an empty station and cut the wrong wires. You shall finally manage to trace your wife and blow the brains of the afghani female to smithereens,and then defuse the bomb. But then the rules don’t allow jihadis to stay alive even if they had a change of heart, and hence you shall be met with the same fate. But don’t worry, you managed to blow up an aeroplane, two subways and will get your 72 virgins in heaven. From where we see it, seems like a win-win situation! Hey, we atleast learnt to weave a movie around a promo poster, and that is something my friends!

(Image Courtesy: Glamsham)

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For those who loved ‘Awaara Pagal Deewana‘ this is just a few notches lower and hence you may be able to tolerate it. For the rest, read this and save yourself money and time. We are pleased that the movie is going to tank badly for we were betting on Khiladi Kumar pulling out
three-of-a-kind
in flops
this yearpulling out three-of-a-kind in flops this year after pulling a flush of hits last year. The Tamil version though a moderate hit is still a must-watch each time it is aired on TV for the raw accent and brilliant lines apart from the comic timing of Kamal Hassan. Here we have some comic timing but it’s killed by a horrible punjabi-meets-LA accent and some pathetic writing. It’s not like we don’t appreciate toilet humor but breaking wind in someone’s face is way below even our levels of cheap humor. There are some laughable moments and you might survive through the end despite squirming in your seat. However when something is billed as the biggest family entertainer of the summer and expected to bailout the entire industry recovering from lost business due to the strike, one is disappointed. There’s nothing much to comment on the story for there ought to be one in the first place and hence we have a two stunt-men friends one of whom gets married to a lingerie model whose best friend is a supermodel/surgeon.  I actually fail to recollect when I’ve heard the B-word used on a woman repeatedly even in the WWE, but here it’s in double digits. One tends to imagine what substance could the writers have been smoking when they decided that the female lead be a wannabe-surgeon who pays for her education by walking the ramp as a supermodel. It may be hard to believe but what’s even harder is the hemlines that barely cover their petite bottoms. With surgeons wearing stuff like that under scrubs, I’d walk into the emergency room any day! The story could have been set anywhere and it wouldn’t have made any difference, unlike the makers claim that the Hollywod cameos are central to the story and the script demanded them. Just like the ICL that provided discards and retirees a new avenue to make some bucks, Kambakkht Ishq opens the doors of Bollywood to failed actors and once-upon-a-tie hotshots a chance to face the arclights again!

Akshay is a misogynist stuntman who lives in a palatial villa over looking a beach enjoying benefits such as flying first-class, an assistant making protein shakes and a masseuse for his feet. Well maybe stuntmen in Hollywood do make that kind of dough but where in the world do surgeons strut as supermodels? The reason I earlier mentioned ‘Awaara pagal deewana’ was because Amrita and Aftab pick up their charade of wwwabbit and chweety pie. It sure is nauseating but then she justifies her character as a lingerie model by foaming herself whilst washing the car and cooling her legs in the pool. Aftab like usual is quite unsure of what he is doing but since he is neither in a swimsuit nor are we interested in men, it doesn’t matter to us. You have Javed Jaffery as Mr.Case-wani who is out to become ‘Amrika ka sabse bada suer‘, oh come on you’re supposed to laugh for that! Then there is Bebo Kapoor in an even more irritating avtaar that beats K3G as a model with a hideous watch that chimes mantras every hour. Having seen the other Nadiadwala flicks we didn’t expect much except for heavy budgets and foreign locales like Venice etc. Witnessing Denise Richards emerge out of a pool in a 2-piece looking like a crack-whore was quite depressing and for once we had to look elsewhere. However when she evinced interest in making ‘golden babies’ with Akshay Kumar, it brought back memories of Goldmember and mental images of a golden you-know-what! Only if we had someone to un-button the image out of our head, but it wasn’t meant to be.

We actually enjoyed part of it and could help but laugh at a few gags. They were however very minuscule wen compared when compared the the glaring holes in logic and reason. How else do you explain an award acceptance speech in Punjabi on the lines of ‘Action hero guru daivo namahahAction hero guru daivo namahah‘. It basically translates to how a kid in Amritsar or thereabouts idolized Stallone like ‘Ekalavya and Drona from the Mahabharata‘ and ended up as his stunt double. I think we are lucky that he didn’t say the ‘Abhivadaye‘ and prostrate before Stallone, he touches his feet however. So then we have cliches like a drunk girl waking up naked in the morning only to find out that nothing happened and even in the ‘videsh‘ people have hearts from the ‘desh‘. The ghost of DDLJ continues to haunt us to this very day with loud aunts on a single mission to get their nieces married. You realize that you’ve had enough when Sylvester Stallone pulls out a parking meter to whip a bunch of baddies, brings back memories of Sunny Deol and the water pump scene in Gaddar doesn’t it? Well actually when you’ve reached this point, you give up trying so it doesn’t really matter.

(Images courtesy: indiafm, santabanta and nighi)

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phool khilte they to aati thi tumhaari khushboo
har hasin shaam jagati thi tumhaara jadoo
aaine mein mere har din ki mulakaat they tum
dil mein dhadkan ki tarah, tan mein jeevan ki tarah
meri dharti, mere mausam, mere din raat the tum
jab nahin aaye they tum…

adhmundhi aankh mein sajta hua ek khwaab they tum
pehli barsaat mein bheega mahtaab they tum
hont mere they magar, inki har ek baat they tum
dil mein dhadkan ki tarah, tan mein jeevan ki tarah
meri dharti, mere mausam, mere din raat the tum
jab nahin aaye they tum…

Tags: Songs, Dev

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