Tuesday, February 27, 2007

Do aur Do Paanch

I can't believe this came out the same year as Shaan, which is the only other movie I've seen Shashi Kapoor in. He has so much more oomph here, whereas in Shaan I felt he was usually overshadowed by Amitabh. Do aur Do Paanch is darn good fun, though as is too often the case the female characters weren't given anything particularly interesting to do. My only other quibble with this movie is with the scuffles at the end: they ramble over three separate settings, go on at least ten minutes too long (or maybe it just felt like ten minutes!), and involve too many scenes of children being dragged into that strange movie-world hero-defined sense of justice against the bad guys.

Other than that, though, I loved it. As the other reviewers have pointed out, Shashi and Amitabh are great together, and I was very much taken by the sense of friendship they develop and portray. Stories about friendship, rather than family- or romance-based love, are far too rare in popular culture, in my opinion, and I am always delighted to find another title to add to my stack of favorites of this story type (Dil Chahta Hai is at the top of the Bollywood list, of course!). Here we get to see people who seem at first to be too alike to be close to each other; when they finally learn they can be friends, they also realize that they should be conspiring over a different goal rather than the shady one they start out with. I also think Shahsi, Amitabh, and the children generally did a good job at acting together, particularly in the group scenes (classrooms, the campfire), as opposed to the adults acting around the children, which can so often happen. The kidnapping plot was superfluous; any old reason for the two crooks to come together in wacky schemes would have done just as well, but this one did the job admirably and provided some sweet little faces to boot.

The title song also deserves special mention - it's even more fun here than it is in Bluffmaster, and coming from me that's quite a compliment! And for more on the music, go over to Desi Music Club.

Friday, February 23, 2007

the Karan Johar Drinking Game, illustrated

(The rules of which you can find here if you need a refresher.)

Courtesy of our old friend Shashi (who, by the way, must have the very loveliest eyelashes in Bollywood).

It all starts innocently enough. Yash Raichand says something paterfamilias-y.


What's that I see? A tear in Aman's eye?


~ How on earth can Anjali resist the eyebrows - in the gazebo - in the rain? ~


Just where is the party tonight?


Basketball in a sari? No way!


Someone's rockin' out at Oxford University, London!


Say shava shava all you want - you're finished.

(Do aur Do Paanch, 1980)

the original Umrao Jaan

I found Umrao Jaan remarkably restrained (but not constrained, an important difference, I think) despite its potential for trauma-drama-o-rama (like in the recent Devdas). The story makes me very uncomfortable, and Rekha's balanced performance made it even harder to bear, since we so seldom see her respond with the volume of feelings she must be suffering. As other people have pointed out, the historical role of the courtesan can be very hard to get our modern brains around. The contrast of her position is so interesting: one one hand, she's trapped in a career/life that she does not choose (and of course in this instance she was forcibly made to enter), but on the other, her training and position give her skills that transport hearts and minds through imagery and emotion.

For the first time in the approximately 125 Hindi films I've watched, I wanted the movie to be longer. I didn't quite get on board with Umrao and Nawab Sultan's love. I don't know the book at all, so I don't know if they're supposed to be tragic lovers on par with those in Devdas (sorry to keep referring to that), but I didn't quite see it. Of course, the movie is fairly understated in some ways, with a lot of emotions implied rather than expressed (and certainly not verbalized), so maybe I was supposed to assume something about their passion. I found him to be a bit of a wet blanket, and while I don't know if it's useful to compare this movie to the recent remake, I thought Abhishek Bachchan was much more powerful - and just plain interesting to watch - in this role.

At least, that's what I thought until I talked to Filmi Geek, and (to paraphrase) she proposed that the recent Umrao Jaan is a romantic-trauma-drama spin on the story and the earlier one is much more feminist, with Umrao's romance as just one component of her life. I like that assessment of the two versions of the story - and would love for someone to tell me about the book (my reading list is too long to add it at the moment) - and I think it can explain, or at least classify, a lot of the differences. As I did with Don, trying to view these as two unrelated movies is going to save me some headaches (if in fact I care about the differences, and I'm not sure I do).

Everyone talks about Rekha - whom I have actually seen very little of, and I know I'll have this performance in the back of my mind as I see more of her - but I want to put in a good word for Naseeruddin Shah, who in my opinion makes even the most unwatchable junk fun (Asambhav, anyone?). What were we to make of Gohar Mirza and Umrao's relationship, I wonder? I liked that they at least had some real affection for each other, even if it was more sibling-y than romantic. This was the element I had a hard time not comparing to the 2006 version (which I saw first, by the way), because that version of the character struck me as full-on creepy.

I'm not sure I actually enjoyed watching Umrao Jaan. Despite its beauty, it hurt. Her pain was not the type I empathize with it's impossible not to feel for her.

Aside to people who have seen this several times or have good memories: d
oes anyone know if there's something going on with bird symbolism in the movie - the caged bird singing and all that?

Thursday, February 22, 2007

research question #3

From my friend Michael (aka "Dr. Marcus" from the trip to India), anthropologist, teacher, and very insightful Bollywood-watcher, whom you may remember from reserach question 1, back in September:

I am relatively new to Indian films (have seen fewer to 20, maybe; more info in member profile) and also, new to Jaman (thanks to Beth Watkins with whom I traveled throughout India summer '06) For the past two months or so I have been obsessed with Swades. I have only seen this film once in its entirety via Netflix, but the visuals remain in my head vividly. The music is also wonderful, I think it is restrained compared to other "Bollywood" products. Do people agree? I would like to raise a few ideas or questions about it, and hoepfully some in the group will reply. First, I have to say that this is SRK's best that I have seen (including Dil Se, DDLJ, Paheli --- I have only seen some clips of song and dance from many of his other movies). Perhaps because the telling of Mohan's story is so steady and slow and sure, and the actor really effaces himself. Do people agree? You really feel his pain (sorry to use the phrase) in the train station scene. I have seen the same dire ctor's Lagaan and I have to say that imho Swades is far superior. Do people agree? I am also interested in the questions that the film raises about diaspora identity and womanhood; the conflation of family and nation/mother and the portrait of this most highly successful NRI finding his true self in village India with a teacher who makes sacrifices of her own for the sake of the greater good. OK, so the narrative resolves any issues of transnational identity in too pat a way, and the whole problematic of the teacher's rage (too strong a word, because the actress conveys it beautifully through silence and body language) against the status quo and implicitly against casteism. Do people agree that these are indeed themes of the film? Do we presume that she and SRK will have a "modern" marriage, and this is what an NRI and upper middle class Indian audience sees? I am wondering. I know that many NRI's are returning to India, and in some ways Swades is an appeal (in more ways than one). Does this film appeal more to diaspora than to people in India for this reason? Is the rural life too romanticised and false nostalgic? I am thinking not. I think that whole scene in which SRK sings and dances with the children argues against that. The film is saying: "do what you can." Do people agree? Lots of questions, I should stop babbling. The more I think and ponder about this film the more magnificent I think it is. I remember at first thinking the hitchiking holy man singing was a bit silly, now I can't get over it. It is a great song! Am I crazy? I am very interested in hearing people's opinions...thanks! Michael
Please post in the comments, or if you'd rather be more private, email me and I will happily forward them on to him. Thank you!

Saturday, February 17, 2007

so this is what pleather sounds like

Thanks to the tip from Filmiholic about Saavn Mobile, my cell phone now rings to Dil Chahta Hai's "Koi Kahe Kehta Rahe." Akshaye just rolls his eyes affectionately, although entre nous, when I first got it and made him call my phone from his phone, just so he could hear it, he smiled. He thinks I don't see him dancing along to it when he's in the other room, but I do. He's so cute.

Update to post (February 20, 2007): I should mention my brief but fascinating history with filmy ringtones. When I was in India this summer, the phone I rentend had a bunch of ringtones on it already, some of which were disappointingly identical to ones heard in the US but others of which were exactly what I would have wanted, namely "Kajra Re" (as though played on the phone keys, not an actual clip of the song, which is what my current "Koi Kahe" clip is). So of course that's what I used. I wouldn't be surprised to learn that my whole group was tired of the song by the time our five weeks were up. Our much-loved tour manager, Rajan, had his phone set to that whistling song from Fanaa, and I was definitely ready not to hear that anymore. On my penultimate night in India, I was at a market in Delhi and I heard that ring, and I whipped around, expecting to see Rajan. Because clearly no one else in a country of over a billion people would have same ringtone.

LDN

One week from today I fly to London for six fabulous days (and three in York) before heading on to Vienna to the First Pan-European/International Bollywoodbloggers Meeting. So, experts, what should a Bollywood fan (and India-interested gal) do? My traveling companion is decidedly not into Bollywood, so if I do go to a movie it will be on my own. I'm happy to get non-Bollywood-related travel suggestions too - it's been twelve years since I was there.* Right now the thing I'm most excited about is museuming myself into a coma.

* I actually lived in London for a semester when I was five - my dad was on sabbatical - and back then my favorite things about the city were that 1) we lived across the street from Jim Henson and 2) we could walk to Hampstead Heath (before you get impressed that we lived in Hampstead, know that our flat had only a teeny kitchen, another general room, and a bedroom - the bathroom was down the hall) where I loved to feed the ducks. My little hometown didn't have a duck pond, you see. Or any escalators, which I have always liked too.

Wednesday, February 14, 2007

a new project and the original U. J.

(The following is going to read like a pitch - and for good reason, because it is, but I'm allowed, because I am a happy part of the pitchee.)

So guess what? I'm delighted to be part of a new world cinema website, jaman.com, as part of the South Asia team. Everyone should join up and join in. Plus be in my discussion group on "Why I Love Bollywood" which is going to, you know, totally rock - maybe I'll start a "because of Akshaye Khanna" thread. Jaman has a bunch of movies you can watch, review, and discuss all in the same site. Today I discovered that you can add notes to movies as they play, so that viewers will get a little pop up that there's a note at the appropriate point and can then read or ignore as they wish. For someone who tends to watch movies by herself, this is a much-needed outlet to share all my very important insights as they happen.

I've got oodles of beta invites, which include free movies (limited time only!), so clicky here to sign up! They have Bollywood and so much more. Also, if you know of a South Asian film or filmmaker who deserves to be seen, then contact Geetanjali at geetanjali@jaman.com.

My fist Jaman movie has been the original Umrao Jaan, and my thoughts will be published over there shortly (and no, it won't be a compare/contrast style article like last time - honeslty, that's been done, and anyway my..."style," let's call it, isn't good for people who don't already know me).

with love

Happy February 14, whatever it may mean to you. Behold, the Ugly, Ugly, Bollywood Fugly Karan Johar Drinking Game: Valentine's Day Special. Due to the massive amount of blowing snow blanketing Illinois, I won't be at work today, so maybe I'll spend my day testing this out - and I've got enough half and half for quite a few white russians. (Yes, that is my sad-sack foofy girly drink of choice - when I'm not having bourbon.)

Thursday, February 08, 2007

I hesitate to think what Mithun's house would look like....

I just read a discussion on Ultrabrown about various filmy stars' homes, including the clever observation that Shahrukh's house "comes clad in see-through nylon mesh, just like its owner," which I think is just about the funniest thing ever, and now I'm wondering if during parties the mesh ever suddenly changes colors, or becomes be-sequined, or if it ever randomly shows up around the Pyramids or billowing on a mountaintop, or what effect it has on Kajol if she happens to drive by. This is a great sub-discussion in my little research project on domestic architecture in Hindi films. Thanks, Ultrabrown!

And now three completely unrelated things.

1) My second Bollyversary is coming up - on the 18th, to be precise - and I'm opening up the floor to suggestions for how to celebrate. As if going to Austria and getting to meet Babasko, Michael, Maja, and others isn't enough. If you were around for last year's, you'll remember what I did, and I don't think there's any particular reason to repeat that, since SEL never did come calling.

Update to post (February 9, 2007): I know! I'll celebrate by picking up one of these from Ganesha when in London at the end of the month!

That's a SRK-printed handbag. They also have Amitabh, which actually looks better, but this dil only goes mmmm for the King. Maja, why didn't you buy one (other than that they're $50, most unfair)? And how many other great t-shirts do they have?

2) I saw a picture from New York fashion week of Russell Simmons wearing a shirt with Hindi on it. I can read it, but I have no idea what it means.

3) Watch this space for a special Valentine treat from moi to vous. Oder von mir zu euch, maybe. (My German stinks, I know.)

Wednesday, February 07, 2007

That's why her hair is so big: it's full of secrets.

Filmiholic tagged me to list five secrets. I stuck them on my other blog. Very hush-hush. As for the actual most secret secrets, only Akshaye knows for sure.

Tuesday, February 06, 2007

when doves cry: Maine Pyar Kiya

(Surely that's been used before?)

No one is more surprised than I am that I enjoyed this movie. I really dislike Hum Aapke Hain Koun...! and Hum Saath-Saath Hain,* but I have an inexplicable affection for Main Prem Ki Dewaani Hoon. So I went in with low hopes - after all, what if I only like MPKDH because it's refreshingly Salman-free? But whaddya know, I really did like Maine Pyar Kiya, even though it 1) dragged towards the end, with too many obstacles being thrown in the hero's way, 2) had way too many songs, most of them sung by S. P. Balasubramaniam, whose voice was a distractingly poor fit for Salman's character (or his own speaking voice, for that matter), 3) overly balletic dancing here and there, and 4) occasionally overdone drama and foes that weren't adequately fleshed out. There were also a lot of elements here that I had seen before - the feuding fathers reconcile as they see their young-lovers offspring survive grave physical danger (Bobby), a pack of goons beating up the hero as he strives to impress his love's father (DDLJ), Alok Nath as proud father of slightly bumpkin girl who loves an urban, educated boy (Taal) - and I don't all blame the filmmakers for that, as some of these things were made after MPK and others are just timeless Hindi-film drama elements, there for the taking.

I was also a teensy bit bothered by this scene, which combines him angrily whacking a punching bag with her all but moaning "I...love...." I hate the combination of violence with romance or sex, and this crossed a line for me. Granted, it did not spiral off into him stalking her, him beating up a rival for her affections, etc., so it could have been a lot worse. I'm sure it was just there to be dramatic - and give him an opportunity not to wear a shirt, of course. She doesn't finish the thought, either, which helps, although that too sets up a jarring "if you punch me, I'm not going to flirt with you" dynamic, but whatever. He has a temper, she's sassy, and sometimes that combination doesn't work for me. I'll move on.

I've never found Salman physically attractive - way too much of muscles - but he had a few scenes of puppy-dog cute here, helped by the floppy hair. I think the top left corner of his decoupage self-mural is about the most attractive I've ever seen him. Speaking of decor, again I'll ask why Bollywood sets so often include oversized and often multilple portraits of characters in their own houses, even their own rooms. The entire house in this movie is noteworty, as it has interior balconies and lots of interior windows, which allow for an interesting dynamic of "she's usually not in my room, which would be shocking, but she's in my house, which implies that on some level she is worthy and accepted; she's in my house, so I see her all the time, but she's still across a giant stairwell and open space, so hijinks can ensue as I try to communicate with her (or I have to use the house intercom system)." I know I've mentioned my interest in Bollywood houses, and I'd love to add this one to any research I may do.

Anyway.

The cute and lively spoken banter and flirty looks between Salman and the adorable Bhagyashree kept this movie afloat for me. I've been told the tale of Bhagyashree before, but I had no idea she would be quite so compelling, and I'll join the regret for her relative disappearance from films. Here she is looking cute as a button doing Salman's laundry.

I also honestly enjoyed Salman, which is a rare phenomenon for me. He convinced me that he really did love this girl, and that he really would jump over whatever illogical hurdle was necessary to...win her, prove his love, whatever. I don't agree with the reasoning, mind you, but given that it was there, he sold it. Also he does the moonwalk with a pigeon.

Reema Lagoo was great at doing her loving, sensible mom thing - I've often wished I had a mini Reema Lagoo that I could keep with me to give me advise, as surely she always knows what is best.

I really wanted more on the relationship between the fathers, especially why Prem's dad had become so cold toward Suman's. I get that the one was successful and rich and lived a much different lifestyle and that the other had dreamy, wistful, and probably outdated notions of what their friendship should be. But there wasn't even a first joyful reunion then gradual realization of "my old friend doesn't fit my new life" - the brush-off was all but instantaneous. I like when movies (or books) explore friendships, and here I would gladly have traded some of the rain-drenched fight or going over a waterfall for a few minutes of watching the dads - who are the whole reason this story happens, after all - build a solid foundation for why later decisions and events need be so dramatic.

Overall, though, enjoyable, if just for the couple's cuteness (and a literal toe-curl as the two fall in love) - oh, and to laugh at some of the dancing.





But certainly nothing I'd ever watch again (unlike MPKDH, which I have seen at least three times, for reasons that I will take to my grave).

Completely random note: as a knitter, I was thrilled to see a heroine with needles in hand.

Clearly she has not been told about the sweater curse, which states that if you knit something for a significant other to whom you are not married, they will promptly dump you.

* I saw both within my fist ten Bollywood movies, so it's entirely possible there's a lot about their importance that I just wasn't aware enough to understand. I'll probably watch them again some day, but I might have to invent a drinking game as motivation.

Thank you! I'll be here all week.

After I proved that I totally rock the vowel matras, yesterday my Hindi tutor and I had a discussion about - what else - filmy stars. She told me there are news stories going around that Mr. Bachchan strongly encouraged Aishwarya to marry a tree in order to level out some of the bad news in her horoscope.

This kept me up at night. Honestly.

I have no idea how to express how absolutely ridiculous and insulting I think this is (and illegal, according to some reports) without being disrespectful to a belief system I know very little about and do not share. So instead I'll say this: if Aishwarya had wanted a tall wooden husband, she would have married Arjun Rampal.

Sunday, February 04, 2007

even I want to be Dev Anand: Jewel Thief

First things first: a jiving, shimmying, bejewelled-pantyhose thank-you to Filmi Geek for telling me about this movie.

I knew it had to be only a matter of time before I encountered a Hindi film that reminded me of some of my favorite aspects of 1940s and 50s Hollywood (not that I am well-versed, but I have my loves*), and here it is, even though the fashions are of a later date (and very fun, from the British Invasion-style pegged pants to the giant hairdos). Jewel Thief is a dizzyingly-styled romp of crime and criss-crosses - but mainly Dev Anand gadding about being a Movie Star. That's "Movie Star" with a capital M and S. This is my first of his movies, and he's fantastic. As my title suggests, to me he brings to mind Cary Grant in all the right ways. Wait, what am I saying? As if there's a wrong way to be reminded of Cary Grant. He's suave and hip and whip-smart and a bit detached, as though he views everything with one eyebrow raised, but still has a several-layers-down heart of gold.

Jewel Thief has a lot of plot twists, as information is discovered or revealed, and to be honest I didn't follow all of them - something would happen, and I would think, "hang on, wasn't he just..." but then decide that I wasn't too bothered by not knowing, since I was still able to be completely on board for the fun. I have no doubt that I would have enjoyed this even more if I had all the deatils, but it's been a bumpy week here at BLB, and I've needed more sleep than I've been able to get, so I didn't have as much energy to devote to this as I would've liked and just had to let some things go.**

I agree completely with everything Filmi Geek said in her review, so I think you should just head that way and read hers (but if you haven't seen the movie, watch out for plot spoilers in the comments). My favorite of her bang-on points are 1) that the movie clearly has a love for western styles and combines them in an unrealistic and exoticized but never distractingly gaudy or silly way*** and 2) that there are sexually independent and forward women here, I think the first I've seen in Hindi films. Almost everything I can think of to point out about Jewel Thief is fabulous. I enjoyed it heaps, and, with the risk of getting too personal for a second, it even managed to make me feel better, more hopeful, about something in my non-Bollywood life that is going badly. So if you possibly can, join Dev as he Roger O. Thornhills his way around India, and try not to feel too bad about the suddenly emabarassingly drab and decidedly not mod state of your own wardrobe, but then dance along with Helen and S. D. Burman's groovy songs, and all will be right with the world.

You can watch Jewel Thief on Jaman.com
Jewel Thief


* Speaking of which, has Bollywood done its own version of Pillow Talk yet? Oooh, that would be really, really good. Dibs on working on that project! We need a very sassy independent woman (clearly Rani), a lady-killer with a mushy inside (Saif? Abhishek?), an alcoholic meddling housemaid (Kirron Kher? Lillete Dubey?), and a cynical male sidekick who has his own edge and isn't lame comic relief, because the comedy is going to come equally from all the players (maybe Akshaye?). Also Bringing up Baby seems ripe for the picking, doesn't it? And most certainly Philadelphia Story, although I have the feeling I've read that that's already been done.

** Before you point out how angry I was when I couldn't understand the finer points of what was going on in Guru, remember that in Guru I was not able to, whereas with Jewel Thief I was simply too tired to try.

*** Screen captures were another casualty of being under-resourced this week. I just ran out of time and had to take the DVD back to the store. Quite sad, actually, as any discussion of Jewel Thief will be made even better by visuals. You can get a great view of the movie here.

Saturday, February 03, 2007

words cannot express: Guru

Finally, Guru in the theater (although now Salaam-e-Ishq has been cancelled due to its lackluster reviews, thanks very much, rest of the world). I have deliberately not read anyone else's thoughts on the movie, so while I may be last, and everything I say may already have been said, and better, at least my thoughts are still my own.

Subtitles are supposed to accomplish one basic and very important task: in the language of the audience, communicate the dialogue (and occasionally relavant printed text) of movies made in languages other than that of the audience. Simple. So why bother with them at all if they're hardly going to fall into the general realm of functional? Geeze. I'm really ticked off about this problem here - the subtitles were so sparse and so dull that I'm convinced I missed at least half of the story and even more of the verbally-expressed emotional heft. For example, someone would say three or four sentences, and we'd read "He has left the room," which clearly was neither the whole information nor the whole emotion of the speech. I think I could have done almost as well without them just by reading expressions and gestures and filling in with some of my other film-taught words. If anyone in the film industry reads this post, please tell me whom to address about this problem. I think Gurubhai would agree that it's just bad business to put out such a shoddy product. Of course, I don't have a choice in provider, do I? If so, I would gladly have paid 50% again as much to watch a version of this that left me feeling confident that I actually saw the movie. Wondering how much of the movie I missed or don't adequately understand is making it very hard to think about it - let alone write about it.

(Aside: would anyone like to comment on the purpose of having events for this movie in Toronto and New York? I don't know if those events were designed to increase awareness of the movie to general movie-going public in those cities [or their respective countries] or perhaps more specific targeted audiences, like various NRI/desi communities there? If they were in fact trying to attract attention of more of the "I don't tend to go to Hindi film" movie-oging public, doesn't it seem weird that the filmmakers would go to all this trouble to tout a product that a significant portion of those potential new audiences can't even understand? If this was my first Hindi film, I would have thought, "Wow, that was a pretty movie with pretty people in it; I wonder what was going on?")

Okay. There are two things that I think I understood adequately enough to comment on. The first is polyester, the raw material of his success. Why polyester? One of my Fulbright colleagues is obsessed with the symbolism of fabric in India, and I hope he'll post here about what he thinks about this question. I'm still mulling it over, but I thought it was pretty significant that the story was built around something modern but synthetic, something that's an alternate to Gandhi's homespun, something that's slick and malleable, something that we try to make look like other things.

The other is reconciliation. Though I have no idea what happened in the song that follows Sujata on her flight from Guru after she discovers the reason behind their marriage, I was really moved by the idea that apology, forgiveness, and real, complex, durable love can be expressed without spoken words. I wish my life worked more like that.

Overall, Guru didn't cohere into an especially interesting story for me. The performances were fine, although I thought Abhishek's work here had nothing on Yuva or even the taut and funny Bunty aur Babli. [Pause to duck behind the desk, anticipating rotten vegetables thrown at one.] Aishwarya too was adequate, but I much, much prefer her as smart and sparky, like in Kandoukondain Kandoukondain, and overall I thought this was yet another movie in which talented female performers didn't have material up to their abilities. I did like Madhavan much better here than in the other two roles I've seen him in, and of course if you only know Mithun Chakraborty from Disco Dancer and Commando, like I do, you'll be duly impressed.

Okay, wow, sorry, this is getting boring even to write. I might give this movie another try if I hear reliable reports that the subtitles have been vastly improved for the DVD. I wanted to like this, and I believe other non-Hindi speakers when they say they did, but personally I'm left shrugging. The question that nags at me is about Guru and his knowledge. I get that he was driven, but I don't understand which aspects of his company's success and problems were things he knowingly did and which were things his underlings decided. From his first days in business we know he smilingly plays the game to win, but those were in the days when obstacles and enemies were ethically simpler, and no one would feel particular outrage at a slimy broker being tricked by a fresh-faced upstart. But I never felt I saw Guru contemplate the costs of playing as his games became increasingly complex and affected many more people - his family and his country that he kept talking about, who at some level have to be considered as victims. So I can't say whether I'd call him a thug either, because I don't know what he did deliberately, knowingly, maliciously. And that's where I think the character of Guru is related to the connotation of polyester. We all wear it, but do we really know what it is, how it's made? No, and most of us don't care, either, because it's practical and budget-friendly and can survive being chucked in the washer countless times - the same as Gurubhai, except I had no doubt his purpose and trajectory through life were thoroughly inherent and not at all synthesized.

You can read Desi Music Club's review of the music here.