Director: Satish Kaushik
Actors: Kareena Kapoor, Shahid Kapoor
A person who’d never sinned in his life approached Naarad Muni. The fellow wished to sin for once. Naarad offered him three rooms: first had a woman he could rape; second had a man he could murder; third had a bottle of booze he could down. The man chose alcohol as mildest of the three sins. He drank himself silly. But then entered the other two rooms: raped the woman, and murdered the man!
This is why, the film’s hero (Shahid) tells the woman (Kareena) he’s wooing, “I hate alcohol.” It’s the worst of sins. She loves him for it, though she doesn’t quite mind the red wine herself. He meets her other two qualifications as well. He doesn’t smoke, and he doesn’t lie. They’re completely made for each other, until the farce gets figured. He smokes, drinks, and of course lies about it. The match is over. No explanations sought.
You find this atrangi (bizarre)? Well, here’s how the match got made in the first place. The heroine meets a tarot card reader (Kirron Kher), who says she’ll find her Mr Right, pretty much right now, within seven days: in a saptrangi (seven coloured) dress, by a beach, abroad. Of all, she merely questions the foreign location part of the prophecy. She’s not meant to travel anytime soon. Duh! Ask the producers. They can afford Thailand. It's the cheapest ticket. This is where the hero and the heroine go off on an inter-collegiate Hindi youth sammelan (conference).
The boy lays the trap. The girl falls for it. Destiny is on her side. They gallivant for a week. She dumps him, but not quite.
This time, she says, destiny alone would hook them up again. Here’s the trick. She leaves her phone number in a second hand book. He leaves his on a Rs. 50 note. Was either to reach the two, they’d be into each other forever. The boy runs around second hand bookstalls across Delhi, looking out for a pulp paperback on Numerology. The girl, even her landlady, flips every Rs. 50 note to check for the number. The show goes on. Seriously.
This film was shot at a time its composer, music man Himesh, contributed more to this nation's noise pollution than cigarette smoke ever did to human lungs. The background score swings to a diabetic, nasal husk: Milenge milenge… The two will meet.
Beside fatal, filial perils of smoking and drinking, the film offers us an equally precious lesson. Movie stars aren’t really overpaid after all. A few crores is a paltry price to pay for a personal life, or the lack thereof.
The leading couple was dating when the film was thought up. Audiences are easier convinced by real-life romances on screen. They’re known to mix the two. This is why they can barely accept married heroines, though a married man who still beds some is macho bro. Producers know this. They can profit from sugary starry relationships then. It was their only big idea.
Years since, while the film’s main pair may not be friends anymore, have probably knocked each other off their Facebook pages, trashed old kissing pics, tucked away the sweet SMSes, they can’t quite disown a new release that celebrates them still. Well. Sucks. I guess!