Saturday, April 18, 2009

Haule Haule... Not So Much

To the Shah Rukh Khans of the world, since we seem to keep running into each other.

Sniffle, gonorrhea type twitch of the legs, another sniffle, shuffle-cough, a dialogue that's several centuries old delivered in an unsteady wheeze with a leery half-upturned mouth-smirk that makes me wonder if you have a knife stowed in your suspiciously bulgey back pocket, a conception further emphasized by your unfathomably alternately twitching your eyes and scrunching your nose in a most trustworthy manner.

News flash: The above technique works in Bollywood because the heroine obligingly returns a screensplitting smile at this display to match the music in the background, generally conveying the impression this is all anyone wants in a relationship. Which, I'll give you, it probably is, given the unrealistic context the scriptwriters work hard to create beforehand so the afore-mentioned crying need for plastic surgery (and possibly a brain transplant) ceases to matter in comparison.

Ultimatum: In real life, where we don't willingly suspend disbelief because the background noise of a dozen trucks on a polluted road doesn't lend itself conducively to the idyllic, the shoulder waggling swagger is just that - a sign you may suffer from male-UTI at best, let's not get into the worst.

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