Don't worry, be hurry!
332 Mumbai To India
Director: Manish Pandey
Actors:
Rating: *
The nation's PM is Sikh, the president Maharashtrian, the woman running the country is
beep
female. Eh?
You’ve to give it to the Censor Board for placing a beep at that point. It certainly adds to the humour. You're not sure what blasphemous word the censors blocked out: Italian-born, foreign-born. You laugh nonetheless.
To be fair in this film, they’ve in parts beeped on “Marathi”, “Bihari”, “Bhaiya” (common slang for those from UP in Mumbai)…. At this rate, everything you say of someone’s legit ethnic origins would be an expletive. You’re better off being alien to be politically correct.
The Buddhist chant, “Buddham Sharanam Gatchhami” in loud instrumentals plays out in the background. You hear the sound of a man’s boots thudding on the floor. The floor belongs to a double-decker BEST no. 332 (Mumbai’s local bus). The man, often heaving, hawing, paces up and down. You can sense the young one’s the new Gabbar. You’re not sure what he’s held the bus hostage for. “Jai Bihar, Jai Patna,” he growls.
Another Bihari boy elsewhere, born, brought up in Mumbai, speaks for the city of secular showbusiness and corporate boardrooms that serves the nation at large, is dominated by talent, not parochialism. There is no war between “Marathis” and “Uttar Bharatiyas” (north Indians), he reasons. “The war is against those illegally living in a city that’s already bursting at the seams." Who lives “illegally” within his own country, he doesn’t say. Who’s warring anyway, we don’t know.
Another Bihari boy elsewhere, born, brought up in Mumbai, speaks for the city of secular showbusiness and corporate boardrooms that serves the nation at large, is dominated by talent, not parochialism. There is no war between “Marathis” and “Uttar Bharatiyas” (north Indians), he reasons. “The war is against those illegally living in a city that’s already bursting at the seams." Who lives “illegally” within his own country, he doesn’t say. Who’s warring anyway, we don’t know.
A curiously powdered face Neanderthal man from India’s east, elsewhere, dates a Marathi 'mulgi'. A young Marathi boy, with glasses similar to Raj Thackeray’s is chased down corridors of Banaras Hindu University by a Dhoni look-alike. It’s a riot! The mayhem's complete. The shoddiness is splendid. You want to hurry out of the theatre. The Gabbar paces up and down again.
The man on the street whose auto-rickshaw’s smashed by a random mob is as clueless as the audience of this movie. As he poetically puts it, “Saat gyarah / Ya Bhaiya Marathi ka raada (7/11 blasts, or Bhaiya-Marathi fight). How does it matter? I have to earn a living.” So do the guys making this film. They're hilarious. At the end, everyone merges together to pay tribute to martyrs of 26/11. That reminds me, I've been looking out for that B-grader flick on Kasab. Any clue where that went?