Desi Boyz- The Aftermath

Desi boyz is a perfect reflection of everything that is wrong with Bollywood.

Here's why:
Apparently, some Bollywood personalities are offended with the name, "Bollywood", they feel they are too original to be mimicking the west, but the same people have absolutely no qualms about lifting scenes from youtube videos. No, we don't copy other movies, we're far more technologically advanced, now we'll copy some funny video online, there'll be lesser copyright issues also to harangue us, they seem to think. I'm saying this because, there is a scene in this movie where Akshay Kumar pretends to be bashed up by a company manager during his job interview, and threatens the guy to hire him. I have two problems here,
Number one: The scene is completely copied!
Number two:  This episode happens in England, correct me if I'm wrong, but whatever happened to all the CCTVs, conveniently forgotten, I suppose. Anyway, we could have appreciated the humor at least, if it were original.

The movie starts with Akshay Kumar chasing a boy skating around in a mall in a segway, somehow it reminded me of the movie "Mall Cop", Can't we atleast think higher when we are copying, C'mon Bollywood, you can do better?

Okay, let me get over the obvious soft plagiarism, and focus on the movie. A predictable story with nothing new to offer, two desperate men at the heights of recession try to give their wild sides a swing, to earn money. John, to keep his golddigging girlfriend played by a couldn't-care-less-if-the-movie-flops-I've-got-the-Mallyas Deepika from ditching him and Akshay, to retain the custody of a conveniently orphaned nephew. Seeing the mess Akshay's in, one wonders why the kid is not left with his grandmom in India, anyway they ask us to leave our brains at home while watching "light entertainers", so be it, lets not prod.

Things turn sour, blah-blah-blah, before you know it, you're wondering how can two hours seem so long, this guy, the director has taken time to a new level. The movie is short, but unpardonable.

The only thing that works in the movie is John and Akshay's chemistry. The scenes in which they mind-talk to each other are good. As for Deepika and Chitrangadha, the less said the better. The surprise element is Omi Vaidya, who seems to have been added as an afterthought, and plays a role that is suspiciously similar to the one played by that Timetable guy in Dil Chahta hai. Anyway, he is funny.

Go watch the movie, if you're completely bored, but I'm warning you, its better to stare at the ceiling for 2 hrs than suffer this torture.

PS: I'm leaving Sanjay Dutt's cameo out of the review because lets face it, the guy, at age 50 or whereabouts, unabashedly calls himself the best lover in town, so I guess he's way beyond my criticisms. All the best finding chicks, dude!

An appeal to my gym aunties

Question: How many people think that skinny girls are not supposed to go to the gym?

Answer: All the aunties and one fat uncle in my gym who gawk at me as if I am some BBMP bulldozer that has encroached upon their space.

Please aunties understand that skinny girls have bigger problems. How else do you think they stay skinny? They are expected to be that way. Every asshole they meet says, "Wow! You are so slim (meaning anorexically thin), You dont need to do any exercise." I implore you all AHs, please come and say that to my ever-expanding butt to maintain some austerity. I begged it and it did not heed, so now I need to go to the gym. So aunties, back off!

I know how you may feel that, "Oh my god! Is she crazy? Why does she come here? To show off?" Aunties, Why are you so negative? I tell you fear not! Think of me as the before/after ads that appear on every weight loss program that VLCC and its counterparts come up with, take inspiration from me! But please don't harass me!

Now go back to working out, you have a long way to go.

An open proposal

Dear Adriano, 

Ever since you walked into the masterchef kitchen with the cutest, sweetest grin I've ever seen and so wickedly asked the contestants to bake a macaroon tower, I have been in love with you. Your eleven layered vanilla cake is something that appears in every alternate wet dream of mine. It is because of you that I spent 3 euro on an unknown 3 cm cupcake-like thing called macaroon in Paris and loved every bite of it.

How you bake such wonderful desserts and yet remain so hot is beyond me. The hair maybe a sensitive issue, but I don't care!

I know you must be sought after, but here's the deal. My parents want me to get married and being an Indian and not being able to start/sustain a healthy relationship with anyone of the opposite gender, I have to grudgingly agree for an arranged marriage. I have always dreamt of marrying a cook, if not a chef, and to marry a pattisier, it will the "fruit of my good deeds which I have done from my past seven lives" (In case you have trouble understanding this sentence, please type "saat janmon ka punya" in google translate). I don't know if you are married or not, anyway marriages are a sham everywhere so break it off, it doesn't matter.

I want you to wake me up everyday with a chocolate fondant for breakfast, a blue berry pie for lunch and finish off with a lemon meringue gateaux in the night. Let me tell you that I'm very open minded, you can change the menu as and when you please, but please please marry me.

You know, I'm a software engineer working in Bangalore, only very highly talented and extremely skilled people get to do that.

Please Zumbo, if you ever come across this post, then think about it. If not marriage, a culinary fling will do. If not that, a free treat in your cafe will suffice, why I'll be glad to pay for it too! or send me an autographed copy of your book, Yes! I'm shameless, shamelessly in love!

Bye Bye now,
Think about it!

PS: Today I think I'll dream about the chocolate mousse cake :P

The Tug of War

She looked in the mirror. The world seemed okay. Her gym workouts were showing results. Her butt seemed smaller than two weeks ago when she wore the same jeans, panicked and joined the gym the very next day. She had a butt fixation which bordered on OCD.

‘It’s looking good, You look smokin’ hot’

‘Yeah right, thunder thighs, that name was coined just for you’

‘Shut your mouth, Big butts are in. Haven’t you seen Beyonce shake her booty?’

She was getting ready to go to Brigade road to catch a movie at Rex, the dilapidated theatre and go out for a couple of drinks later with her gal pal. She was just getting over her boyfriend and it was a little hard. They tried to make it work but it was just not working. She always smirked when she read in the papers that so and so broke off their relationships due to irreconcilable differences but now she knew that it was so true.

‘I miss him, I love him’

‘Fucking bastard’

‘I wanna hold his hand again, I wanna smell him again’

‘Get a life! He was one royal “arsehole”, All I miss is his Sachin Tendulkar-ish voice, Woh! That never failed to crack me up’

She tried not to focus on the idiot and concentrate at the choice of tops in front of her. It had to be red, her favourite color. She had red tops in all shapes, and it was hard to make up her mind. Finally, she chose a sleeveless top and pulled on her sweater on top, Bangalore was getting chilly.

“Look at my butt”, She told her mom.

“It looks fine”, Mom said without breaking her concentration on the onions she was chopping.

“Look at it, now”, She demanded.

“Okay, Yeah its reduced”, Mom said even though she couldn’t make out any change. She never understood this obsession, better this than alcohol or drugs, she shuddered remembering the scary article she'd read in the Times about teens.

”Which movie are you going to?”

“Ah, some flop movie, Pooja wants to watch that Anjaana Anjaani. I hate that Ranbeer Kapoor. What to do? I’ll just go and eat caramel popcorn”

‘Caramel popcorn, yummmm'

‘Thats the only thing left, why don’t you have lunch at pizza hut and dessert at corner house too’

‘Double yummm’

‘I was trying to be sarcastic’

“Why can’t you stay home atleast one weekend, always you’ll be roaming about”, She snapped out of the reverie hearing her mom’s voice.

She rolled her eyes and took her purse.

“Okay mom, gotta get going B’bye”

She went to the garage, blew the dust off her scooty and tried to start it. It wouldn’t budge.’Damn, this cold start’. She tried to imitate her uncle as she lowered her scooty to the side.

‘This should do the trick’

 She pressed the self start button, slowly it whimpered to a start and gradually she accelerated till it started roaring. She smiled and put her purse in the dickey.

She started and pushed herself off into the street. This was her zone. She’d heard that some people got great ideas when they were on the pot. This was her equivalent. There was something about riding that exhilarated her, the wind blowing in her face, the calm roads on a weekend afternoon, it excited her. She thought about the pub she was going to in the night, her friend had raved about it, and though most of the times her opinion was unreliable, today she thought she’d give it a go.

‘Too bad, you can’t booze tonight’

‘Wtf, why?’

‘Because, you’ve gotta drive back home an d Pooja cant ride for nuts’

‘Shit! then why the hell are you dragging me to a pub, you sadist?’

‘Hehehehehe’

She veered towards the south end signal, the timer said “100” seconds to go.

She yawned and turned towards her left. The guy in the next car looked surprisingly similar to her TL. She squinted at him to get a clearer look and which point he turned towards her and made a strange face. She turned away.

‘Thank god, it’s not him’

‘Ooooh I thought you had the hots for him’

‘That was before he opened that stinkin shithole of his, he’s one SOB, besides he's married’

‘Careful now, you are crossing the line, that is my territory’

‘You are right, handling one bitch is hard enough’

She had to make some major changes, quit her company, maybe.

 ‘I’ve gotta start building a concrete plan. I have to do something else. I cannot bloody work for some fucking ass hole.’

‘Yakkity yak yak, Yakkity Yak Yak

‘Wipe that fuckin smirk of your face or you’ll have it’

‘Blah Blah Blah Blah Blaaaaaaaaaaaaah’

She turned about the VV Puram circle and proceeded towards JC road. She passed NMH on her left side and thought about all the mornings she used to come there as a child with her dad, just to eat Idli Sambar.

‘Ahh, those were the days’

‘I hate to say this but  I agree with you’

 She came to a stop at the Minerva junction and looked around. All was familiar; all was Bangalore, her favourite city.

The signal turned green. She quick-started her scooty. There was a lot of commotion on JC Road, some baaraat was passing in the middle of the afternoon. The M word was taboo for her.

‘Shit, soon its going to be my turn. And there’s going to be a Oh-so-heavenly husband, some pious mom-in-law and Baghban-type FIL, and then peeing and pooping kids. ‘

‘I’m going to have a sexy fling on the side’

‘Yeah, in your dreams’

‘You just wait and watch’

She started humming some song that came to her mind.  She passed the Unity building and came to another stop.

‘Another 10 minutes. I’d better message that damn Pooja’

‘You messaged her before you left home right?’

‘There’s no reply’

“Ill b der in 10 min. Wru?” she typed.

‘A goddamn fool, that’s what she’s, always hanging out with that oaf’

‘Why do you have to be such a cynic?’

‘Oh you Ms.Goody-two-shoes boring nerd, If not for me, your life would’ve been worse than a two paisa nun’s’

She was now passing cubbon park. She remembered how she used to go on the toy train when she was a kid.

‘“One day, I’ll get my kids here’

‘Red Alert! KIDS!! Wtf, one step at a time, for god’s sake kids like you can’t have any kids’

She crossed the signal and took a right to park in church street. She bargained with the attendant and paid him ten bucks.

Her phone started ringing. It was Pooja.

“What the hell Richa, I have booked tickets for tomorrow, not today!”

“Shut up! You messaged me specifically saying it’s today, 17th!”

“Yeah 17th, today is 16^th!”

“Oh fuck fuck fuck fuck!”

She cut the call in exasperation.

‘Its all your fault, can’t you read the message properly?’

‘Why can’t you? Always passing the buck’

An auto-driver was leaning on his sole possession. Business was slow, He was reading Prajavani and having a cup of coffee. Suddenly he saw a girl scream on top of her voice.

“Shut the fuck up, both you bitches!!, enough is enough!”

Strange, these rich kids are, he thought to himself.