A kick to remember

"Dil me aata hoon, samajh me nahi."

I happened to read a captivating review of the Salman Khan starrer 'Kick'. (Link here) That made up the case for me. I had to give the movie a miss.

But fate had other plans.

It was the night I left college. The blow fell at the moment I was at my vulnerable best- leaving my life of fourteen years, embarking on a new journey, away from family and friends. As the bus reached the Dibrugarh University campus, the television set in the bus kicked to life.

My prior experiences with video coaches have been pretty disappointing. Folding (or attempting to fold) my long lower limbs at awkward angles, I try and settle in my seat and look forward to the movie of the night. The screen flickers to life and Salman Khan appears- slashing the air with his index finger. The movie title appears: Garv: Pride and Honour.

Those were good days. I was young. Even Salman was. Plus his movies weren't considered bad. Or maybe I was yet to be introduced to the class of people known as critics.

As the bus travelled, I accompanied the protagonist on his journey- bashing goondas, romancing the girl, bashing more goondas and then getting framed and landing up in jail. Things were nearing the climax, when the bus stopped, the screen went black and a disembodied voice exhorted us to eat 'bhat-pani'. I went, ate something, worried about the fate of our protagonist, mentally salivating over the prospect of the goondas getting a sound beating. Resuming the journey, I found the television screen remained black and people started to snore. "But what happened to the hero?" I mentally cried out. No one responded.

This scenario repeated itself five more times. And four times out of five, the same movie was being screened! I never could finish the movie.

Two years later, as I went in for a momentary post lunch visit to my hostel common room, I saw the movie being aired on some channel. Using my seniority as leverage, I forced the kids to watch the movie, ultimately finishing it after around two and a half years! That did provide some closure.

So, by now, you must have realised my predicament. Having to watch a movie that is supposed to be trash, with no other option- the speakers being positioned just overhead, and the possibility of the movie being cut short at any instance- probably when I would have warmed up to the story, wasn't an inviting prospect. A close up shot of the fetching Jacqueline Fernandez in some snugly fitted clothes did get my hopes up but from there it was a downward spiral. The guy wanted a kick and I would have been happy to provide him one. As I followed the incoherent and senseless plot, I got lost amid the cacophony of the characters and their motives. Thankfully, as the 'hangover' song started playing out, the little amounts of alcohol in my blood (consumed to lessen the pain of parting from my hostel mates) came into play and lulled me to sleep, until it was time for dinner.

"Good riddance", I said to myself and went in search of the least unhygienic, most pricey meals in the dhaba nearby.

But no! Times have changed. People behave professionally these days. No sooner was I seated, the screen flickered to life once again, and I was treated to a scene by scene fast forward of the whole movie to the point where we had stopped. All my beer induced good work gone to waste. And this time I could not sleep. So I sat back and watched Devi Lal becoming Devil and vice versa. I wondered if wearing a mask like the one shown in the movie would make me unrecognizable (I did recognize Salman as Devil despite his mask though- but I am intelligent- unlike huge sections of our populace.) I watched the hero get the heroine, his back story of how Devi became Devil and how Devi was entrusted with the task of apprehending Devil! I watched till the very end, till the end credits rolled and the hero and heroine danced to a song as the credits rolled.

As the interior of the bus turned dark, I stretched my legs toward the aisle and closed my eyes. As I fell asleep, I distinctly heard someone whispering in my ears:

"Dil me aata hoon, samajh me nahi."