Jnam Journal: Includes my Views of specific shows or episodes - Page 2

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Posted: 7 years ago
#11
Pools and tools..

Among other many inventive ideas that I have come across in Urdu fiction on television is the use of a pool as a spot to ruminate over life's worries instead of the usual armchair. I happen to think this a splendid variation to the usual sitting-by-the-window-and-mulling-over-something scene that can be seen in so many televised fiction shows globally. Such a scene (with the protagonist in the pool thinking) has likely been used in other language shows as well. But the aspect of this visual that is unique to these Urdu shows I've been watching is the fact that the protagonist enters the pool in a slow, deliberate manner with his clothes on! Mind you, not just any outfits but the type of elegant threads one would reserve for the poshest gatherings. Case in point: SOcha Na Tha, a middling show that was wrapped up a few months back. One of the most unusual visuals in that show is one of the hero, Noor Hassan, entering the pool and traversing its length with all his finest clothes on. And not just clothes; he has his finest shoes on as well! I wonder how the poor animals that were butchered to provide the leather for his shoes would feel about such a blatant disrespect for their sacrifice! (Between you and me, I think they'd think him a massive tool as do I!)
Water, I used to think, was anathema to leather. Apparently, the makers wanted to emphasize the wealth of the character through this display of insouciance. A similar visual was shown in a recent episode of the wonderfully thrilling show Muqabil although, in the defence of the makers, the pool does have an integral part to play in this story. It is the site where the heroine was molested as a child, and which continues to trigger horrific memories of the event in her mind. Regardless, I still thought entering the pool with his shoes on was a silly oversight on Armaan's part even if he was a bit drunk and concerned about his wife who had just fallen into the pool.
Anyhow, the animal lover in me is still not too happy about how frequently this visual has started to crop up in these shows. Could this be a blatant attempt to turn entering pools with ones shoes on into something trendy and worthy of imitation by the young and malleable? I am aware that considering the importance of a certain type of modesty in the culture that forms the backdrop of these shows, such a visual might be welcome over the ones with skimpily clad men and women littering pools. But if modesty is the issue at stake, then may I suggest burkinis and pool shoes instead?
With all my love,
An animal lover who'd rather see leather being taken care of than thrown mercilessly into water bodies along with the wearer


Edited by JNam - 7 years ago
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Posted: 7 years ago
#12
Because she's worth it...

I have lost track of the number of times I have come across the following rationale to justify meanness, cruelty or standoffishness in a fictional character (mostly male) towards his hapless, flawed but well- intentioned wife. "You see, men like this do exist in our world, and so long as he is providing for his wife and kids financially, such petulance should be excused", I often hear well-intentioned viewers reason. I agree with part of this viewpoint; being financially responsible is important in the role of a spouse, male or female, particularly if the other partner is not working for recompense. It is also true that the challenges of managing one's career are so myriad and infuriating that one can be forgiven for being somewhat snippy after what might have been a long day at work. However, my problem lies with the assumption that this is how good spouses (men) should be expected to behave most of the time, and women are foolish and juvenile to want anything more. My response is the following: I have no problem with occasional displays of temper but considering repeated snappish, rude behaviour including rude speech acceptable in a male character is unfair. Such spouses are hard to live with, and therefore, their wives have a right to demand an improvement in their behaviour. After all, it would be just as unfair if a man returned to an over-worked wife who was always short with him, attributing her snippy manner to the huge amount of housework she had had to do each day. While it is wonderful that these men do not physically abuse their wives, but surely being rude repeatedly is also tantamount to abuse albeit of a different sort, especially if it keeps occurring repeatedly? Should they be excused simply because they do not stoop to the lowest common denominator (hitting their wives)?

Anyhow, as I await the conclusion of a show which I hope addresses this issue adequately, I was pleasantly surprised today to find a fictional character actually realize the error in his ways and make amends for his former cruelty to his wife. In Faltu Larki, we were delivered what I think was a masterstroke. IN last week's episode, the unclaimed orphan, Jahan Ara's wedding was called off because Paro, the groom's stepmother, had accused Jahan Ara of dallying with the local handyman. Paro did this because she is shown to be in love with the groom herself, even though he is her step-son. Paro's husband had, so far, been shown to be rude and unfair to his first wife, played by the delightful HIna Dilpazeer. Never did an episode go by when he did not make obvious, mean-spirited comparisons between Paro and HIna, accusing the latter of not possessing any charm, wit, beauty or good cheer that is so important in a spouse. "Words about good cheer coming from the resident sour puss! Oh, the irony", I would often think to myself. But i today's episode, Paro's demons finally started to haunt her in earnest, and in a fit of frustration, she let her husband know exactly how she felt about him in vivid detail. From the disgust she felt at making love to her ancient husband to the love she had been harbouring for her step-son, Paro let it all out in today's episode. Her husband, of course, was dumbstruck; the hapless fool had thought his young wife was in love with him! Thereafter, he started ignoring Paro, instead choosing to visit his first wife's part of the house more frequently, and in these visits, his manner towards her was gentle, complimentary, and kind. His wife, HIna, of course, was pleasantly surprised by this welcome change in her husband whom she clearly loves. It is to the credit of the writers of the show and the performers, especially Hina and Salman Saeed, that this transition felt as real as it can in a fictional framework.

While I am heartened to see Hina Dlipazeer's husband realize her worth in his life and attempt to make amends, I wonder if she wouldn't be better off living by herself instead of with such a husband. Surely, a woman of her experience and resourcefulness needs no man in her life? But then it occurred to me that nearly everyone, no matter how resourceful and accomplished, can do with companionship, and often, the love offered by our cranky, old, erring spouses can mean more to us than the love of a hundred better-on-paper companions because of the life and memories we have shared with them. In today's episode, HIna Dilpazeer was overwhelmed with joy at her husband's return who seemed equally elated to have re-discovered his spouse's worth. Both can, I think, look forward to a happier time in this twilight of their lives, with their follies behind them, and at least a decade's worth of togetherness ahead of them. I hope on tuesday I can say the same of another pair of fictional lovebirds as I reach the final pages of their tale.

(PS-I find rudeness and repeated displays of belligerence equally unacceptable and indefensible in a female character towards her spouse but such a scenario is less commonly found in the realm of televised Urdu fiction; so, I have not included it here).
Edited by JNam - 7 years ago
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Posted: 7 years ago
#13
A New Lover To Replace The Older Ones...

As I write this, I am reminded of a movie I watched a very, very long time ago. While most relevant details are lost to my memory, I faintly recall the premise. A few gangsters wanted to pretend to have lost a lot of their illegally acquired money so that their rival gangsters or law enforcement would not pursue them. So, in the tradition of heroes of daft comedies, they decided to invest in a very bad, sure-to-bomb movie. Most of the running time of the film was dedicated to the shenanigans of these amateur movie makers as they tried to make a horrific film. The show I want to mention in this post seems to have been similarly produced by its makers although it seems that they first wanted to introduce a cast of characters and events that might have the viewers interested, and thereafter, decided to painfully wrench each such redeeming quality out of their show so that by the 9th episode itself, it was a bloated, surgically distorted copy of the fine show it once was. Like taking a beautiful painting, and bit-by-bit, stripping it of every quality that makes it so stunning.

Moray Saiyyan (My Lover) first came to my notice because of its beautifully evocative soundtrack, parts of which were well sung by the ostensible leading man of the show. Apart from the soundtrack, the first few episodes also revealed ensnaring cinematography and locations, well chosen baits to reel in unsuspecting audience members including myself. The final and most beguiling hook that reeled me in (as it did other members of the audience, I am sure) was the leading man, Umair Jaiswal in his first leading role. On the surface, it is hard to see how he could be convincing as a romantic character who had to mouth flowery prose about the beauty of love and how it had enveloped him in its grasp much like the mist that was always swirling around those mountainous locations where they shot this show. Jaiswal is a light-eyed, diminutive man who has a distinctive pompadour in this show, and still looks boyish. Moreover, he is a musician by night who puts himself in hipster music videos designed to appeal a younger demographic that enjoys such natty visuals. So, you can imagine my surprise at his ability to be believable in a role that required him to wear suits, pretend to be a petroleum engineer, and mouth dialogues that were not just florid but almost ancient in how they extolled the virtues of love and ones beloved. No man who looked as hipster as he did in his music videos could expect me to listen to such dialogue and not respond with belly laughs at his performance. But. Mr. Jaiswal managed to win me over. When he was trying to woo his beloved with dialogues such as "I had to come back to your place because it seems like I lost a vital bit of myself in you", instead of rolling around in laughter at the silliness of it all, I found myself experiencing a facet of romantic love that is often absent in real life. His dialogues and enactment of love made it seem like a miraculous, almost mythical force that envelops a chosen few while the rest of us watch its splendours from the sidelines.

To my eyes, Mr. Jaiswal could be the performer I had once imagined someone like OKB would turn into: a younger version of the besotted, Majnu-like, almost Sufiesque lover. OKB proved to be inadequate to the task, in my estimation, and seems more believable in goofier parts. But Mr. Jaiswal could be just that impish, charming, old world presence that could pull in a younger audience, and hopefully, force older, now-jaded performers who have played such romantic parts to death to start hunting for different, more distinctive roles to engage their ample talents.
Meanwhile, let us return to the show. After having found their engaging leading man who the viewers were clearly responding to, the makers inserted a loathsome character into the show which was, unfortunately, played by an extremely bad actress who seemed to revel in enunciating her dialogue in the oddest manner, and taking pauses in all the wrong moments. Regardless, I think the makers had realized that in what was to be a terrible show, they had inserted a nicely written leading man played by a charming actor. Therefore, to even things out, they decided to cast a lovely but wooden performer opposite him. It is to Jaiswal's credit that I could watch him romance this lovely piece of wood. But then, by the time the show inched towards the 8th episode, the makers had started to realize that in spite of casting inept performers in two key roles, the viewers were still tuning in to watch the show. As a result, they decided to do something utterly senseless and drastic: they decided to kill off Gaziyaan, the character played by Jaiswal. Add to that, in a conservative surrounding, they turned Gaziyaan's widow pregnant, and gave the evil aunt ample scope and screen time to screech her dialogue and punish Gaziyaan's widow and the audience. My guess is that around that time, the ratings of the show started to fall sharply, and the timings had to be changed to a later hour of the night, when fewer in the audience are expected to stay awake to watch television.

Thereafter, the show has continued its steep downward descent with the evil aunt being given screen time and the attention and love of the other characters, including Gaziyaan's widow. As I watched the penultimate episode tonight, I realized that the makers had, indeed, succeeded in making one of the worst shows imaginable. But I try not to get too riled up about it as they did, unwittingly, gift the audience an interesting leading man with a soulful voice and an old world charm that could set him apart from the rest of the audience. I look forward to his future roles and hope he gets cast in better parts. Meanwhile, I continue to enjoy his and Baloch's rendition of the title track and the first few episodes of this otherwise dismal show.

Edited by JNam - 7 years ago
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Posted: 7 years ago
#14

Originally posted by: HoorainSabri

😆 what the hell is this? And people are actually reading all his/her lenghty stories 😲 Such a waste of time, just watch a drama instead 👏


If you go back to the first post, you will find that this is essentially a repository of my blogposts, and they are for those people who like reading about the experience of watching televised fiction as much as televised fiction itself. You'll be surprised to know how many of such viewers there are in the blogosphere. Cheers!
Edited by JNam - 7 years ago
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Posted: 7 years ago
#15

Originally posted by: HoorainSabri

😆what the hell is this? And people are actually reading all his/her lenghty stories😲Such a waste of time, just watch a drama instead👏



No need to be rude, people are actually reading them!
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Posted: 7 years ago
#16

Originally posted by: Simz786



No need to be rude, people are actually reading them!


True even I also read them

Even when i don't agree with some points

But the writing is so rich

Good lord
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Posted: 7 years ago
#17
i logged into india forums after a very long time. Purely by chance i stumbled upon your post. I have only read your first review but i am hooked.
You, dear, have talent!

Your strong views and the way you articulate with your words is something that i have never come across online...good job!

will be bookmarking this post


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Posted: 7 years ago
#18
Thanks a lot! I write as a means of recreation but being read with such enthusiasm feels amazing!
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Posted: 7 years ago
#19
Priming With Prime Time

I have always been drawn to fiction because of its possibilities to create romances between people in a manner that puts real life to shame. In fact, my gateway to televised Urdu fiction was a true-blue, old-school romance: Dhoop Kinare. The few romantic scenes between Dr. Ahmer and Dr. Zoya were emblazoned in my mind from the first time I watched them as a pre-pubescent child. These images kept swirling in my mind as I stepped into adolescence and then adulthood even though I had no way of re-watching the actual show itself as no one in my social and familial fold owned a print of that show. All those years, it stayed alive in the recesses of my mind through the workings of my memory alone, as it did for countless of my female friends in school. During those carefree years, many a lunch break was spent figuring out who would be the man who would finally be out Dr. Ahmer. And then, technology brought Dr. Ahmer back into my life! As an undergraduate university student, I discovered online video sharing websites, and through them, Dhoop Kinare and my beloved Dr. Ahmer and Dr. Zoya! If I could only describe to the reader the ecstasy I felt on discovering how accurate my memory of those romantic scenes had been, my joy would be quadrupled.

Since re-discovering my beloved lovebirds, I have seen many other such romances from the subcontinent. In fact, thanks to technology and the appeal of these shows as popular fiction, their reach and viewership is no longer limited to people residing in the country where these are made. People of neighbouring countries have also started to flock towards these fiction series as have people who share only a tenuous ancestral link to the sub-continent. With the widening and diversifying of the viewer demographic has started to create a more coherent demand for newer stories that not just transcend the traditional stories, but also mould them according to a progressive sensibility (such a progressive sensibility can come from a hidebound, old-school character or a Western-educated one). So, while following a traditional, popular format, a show such as Udaari managed to raise, quite convincingly, the problematic issue of child abuse. It is not surprising to me that a writer wanted to address this issue. It is however, pretty jaw-dropping to me that he/she managed to do so within the constraints of a popular fiction format (or, genre-fiction, as such fiction is often disparagingly called). Academic scholars have often considered this questioning of societal traditions and attempting to bring about a change in thinking to be the sole purview of literature, not genre-fiction. And yet, as people who devour genre-fiction know, it has nearly all the tools needed to attempt such change. Moreover, it has something that the more literary writing struggles to achieve: ginormous readership or viewership. So, an attempt to confront and question our worldview, if made through popular fiction, can have an impact that literary fiction might not, at least not so swiftly.

Case in point: the recent introduction of homosexual characters in a television and movie franchise as lucrative and beloved as Star Trek. While Brokeback Mountain, an epic romance between two cowboys, will be viewed and loved by a devoted but limited audience, any instalment of Star Trek will most certainly be beamed to billions of enthralled eyes across the globe. It is erroneous to assume that Star Trek is a phenomenon limited to the Western audience. As fans know, Star Trek is a global phenomenon that is beloved by billions of all possible cultural, religious and social backgrounds. Its closest recent rival would probably be the Harry Potter series and, possibly, the Twilight franchise. So introducing a character who embodies a behaviour that is only somewhat understood in some parts of the world but largely misunderstood and shunned in other parts is nothing short of bravery... or recklessness. Fortunately, the sales of that instalment show a happy picture: the profits have been soaring. Does that mean that every Star Trekker who watched the instalment understood the challenges a homosexual character can face in a society where such behaviour is not the norm? Of course not! Do these profits mean that every, or most, of the viewers managed to be convinced that homosexuals were not odd or inscrutable? Of course not! I reckon that most of the viewers did not even care about the homosexual aspect as they were too engrossed in the actual story. And that really is the point! To seamlessly introduce variations into a traditional story-telling format, one can, with time and persistence, prime a mind to the fact that humans (and human behaviour) are heterogeneous! The traditional idea that specific behaviours are normal whereas the rest are not has been entirely undermined by medical research. Human behaviour, it appears, is a continuum, and no one, not even those with the highest intelligence, can know where "normal" ends and "abnormal" begins. One can not conceivably understand every type of human behaviour. One's natural instinct is to consider one's own behaviour or that of the group one identifies with as normal whereas those outside that group are considered "not too normal" if not outright "abnormal". I grew up thinking that vegetarianism was "normal"; being transported outside my familial fold made me realize that in much of the world, it unfortunately isn't (much to the chagrin of my animal-loving self). Similarly, I grew up thinking that there was just one heterogenous Christianity, or that all Americans love SuperBowl or all the British loved Agatha Christie as much as I did. Clearly, that isn't the case. My experiences of being shipped from one place to the next, each dissimilar to the place I grew up in, have forced me to confront the limitations of my worldview and expand it. But the question remains: why? Why should I have to adjust my safe, comforting worldview to accommodate people and behaviours I couldn't care less about? Why could I not just stay cloistered within my comfortable world? The first reason was sheer practicality. In my first few years in the West, I had hoped I would fit into the Western university setting without any effort. But once I did arrive in that world, I started to notice behaviours that I couldn't understand. For example, surely you don't look at every stranger and offer a "hello" by way of greeting? In my world, "hellos" were reserved for the ones I knew adequately and was friendly towards. Moreover, if you offer me a "hello" or an offer to have a beverage with you, does that mean we are close friends now and I can make a fool of myself in your viewing without embarrassing you? I thought I could; a few embarrassing incidents later I learned I probably shouldn't. So, I decided I would have to tweak my worldview a bit, as well as my own behaviour in public so that I could exist harmoniously with my surroundings. I still didn't really understand smiling at people you didn't want to be friends with; it felt like I was offering them and myself false hope. But I decided to follow suit because as my worldview slowly started to grow, I felt more secure and less threatened. It didn't matter if you weren't a vegetarian like myself, at least not as much as I thought it would. I wish animals would have an easier life than doing humans' bidding, and in my lifetime, I hope I can do something, howsoever limited, towards that belief. But I acknowledge that I cannot and shouldn't try to hold your dietary proclivities against you because it is just possible that when I take an accidental tumble, the hand that might reach out instinctively to grab me might be that of a non-vegetarian (or, worse, a gleeful, meat enthusiast). In spite of that hand's owner's inability to be compassionate to animals in the way I define compassion, it has still offered me support and kindness in my hour of need, and in the words of Harry Potter, that compassion has bonded us to each other, much like Harry's inadvertent kindness towards the vile Wormtail bonded them both in a bond that elevated both.

The remarkable thing about fiction, written and televised, is that it can take us into a world other than our own without the hassle of arduous physical travel (as I had to undertake), and holds the potential to hold a mirror to our faces. We might be repulsed by the reflection or we might be understanding of it. What it can also do is show us who we could be if we surmounted the minor hurdles of our beliefs, customs, and proclivities. We average Joes and Janes could be more harmonious with each other, and while such harmony many not change our social or political destinies (which are often in the hands of those living in the rarefied world of elites), it could make us less insecure, and more at peace with ourselves, and the unbelievable heterogeneity of the world around us that was either made my the gods (if you hold a theist's view of the world), or by mother nature herself (if you believe in nature instead of a diety). Popular fiction holds that key towards egging us on in that direction of acceptance, awareness and peace, I am certain. And I hope the writers of such fiction realize what they can achieve for the readers/viewers, and embark on that task seriously. The heaping of vast laurels on Udaari, Muqabil, Kuch Na Kaho, and Faltu Larki are testament to the fact that the audience even in this supposed parochial world wants its worldview challenged and is ready for it as long as the story unfolds in the engrossing, accessible way that is the forte of the bards of popular fiction.

Edited by JNam - 7 years ago
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Posted: 7 years ago
#20
The Story In My Head

I carry around several images in my mind from the countless hours of watching televised fiction and movies from my neck of the woods. Some of these images are from South Asian movies of the 60s starring performers who are considered endearing by those who have watched and loved their work. In fact, such is the celebrity of these performers and the enduring appeal of their work that even the younger audience are aware of them, even though they have no experience of having viewed or engaged with their performances. This after all is a generation that steadfastly refuses to watch older movies except on occasion, that too in an affected manner, in order to provide fodder for the endless cutesy text messages and images that is their primarily language of communication.

One such image seared in my mind is of the late Meena Kumari standing in a blooming garden opposite Ashok Kumar, offering him a coy smile as he utters a few inaudible words before playfully resting his arms on her shoulders and leaning his face towards hers. Her arms then loop around his, as the engage in a playful exchange that the audience aren't privy to because just then, the camera starts to step back from this intimate scene, wanting to afford a certain privacy to the lovebirds or so it would appear. After all these years, this image remains beguiling as it suggests a closeness between them that we expect to see in lovers that have managed to successfully juggle the practical business of living together with the impracticality of passion. What is truly remarkable about this image, however, is the fact that both the veteran performers featured in it were, during the filming of that movie, at the height of their careers and fame, in spite of being in the threshold of middle adulthood. Moreover, both "look their ages", and give the appearance of two people who have have inhabited the planet for a while, and in relative comfort, as seen from Meena's comfortably wide body, and Ashok Kumar's craggy face and burgeoning belly. And yet, the romance of that scene between them feels as much alive and throbbing as I would imagine the romance between two performers of equal skill but younger by at least a decade. Still, that romance also inhabits its own character. It feels like romance would between two people who had fallen hopelessly in love, gotten married, and a decade later, had stayed in love. Their passion had stayed put, but to it had been added a veneer of friendship, the sort that makes you roll your eyes in playful disgust as your partner breaks wind beside you in bed, or that makes you push back the tip of your nose and flare your nostrils in front of his face, requesting him to spot any stray, visible boogers or nosehair, as you both prep yourself for an elegant night together. These gestures would ordinarily be considered anti-romantic. But they would also suggest a friendly intimacy, such as the one we share with dear friends and beloved siblings. With time and a dollop of good fortune, I am told, the romance between passionate lovers can also acquire such elements of deep friendship. That scene between Meena Kumari and Ashok Kumar seemed to suggest this. I could imagine them both taking in, not only their sweet romantic words, but also their breadths, and saying to each other, "so you finally had pickle with your paratha (South Asian pancake) even after I told you not to?". You can imagine how talented and well matched these performers must be to conjure up such delightful, convincing images in my mind with a mere few minutes of acting. That is what I have discovered to be true of some of my favourite performers: their acting not just brings alive the scene as it is written. It also brings alive the right mixture of emotions, and unleashes unseen images into my brain. It is as if, the performers, through one succinct scene, conveyed that one moment as well as countless moments like these that might have gone on between them outside of the presence of the cameras. So, a single moment of such intimacy between Ashok Kumar and Meena Kumari in that 2 hour movie managed to convince me that there had been many more such moments between them, and that they had, truly, been happily married for over a decade. With economy of performance, they managed to bring alive two characters and their life stories before my unschooled gaze.

And what do I offer them in return? I admire their performances, which I watch innumerable times, write admiring blogposts extolling their talents, and share my love for them to anyone with the slightest inclination towards such fiction. But as time goes by, I also start to turn down my nose at them looking instead for fresher talent (as if people were like sprigs of lettuce), especially the female performers. In fact, I admit that my younger self was one of the audience that could not stand "older" women performers in leading roles even though I was more accepting of the male leading performers. For example, I could imagine Dharmendra strutting his stuff in 80s movies when he was nearly 50 years old, but I could not accept Hema Malini, every bit a luminous performer, after she started to not look like a nubile, young thing anymore. Her beauty, while still immense, had, to my cold gaze, changed in some indescribable way that rendered her unfit for leading roles, even opposite her husband who was nearly a decade and a half her senior. In this regard, I am not so different from the legions of cinegoers that have continued to keep Salman Khan or his fellow Khans relevant, even though each looks every bit his age, especially when cast opposite fresh-faced, barely-out-of-their teens women.

But now, I am starting to resent this outlook because you see, I am starting to get older myself, and as a woman, I am starting to find the whole idea of how an "older" woman should look and behave quite nauseating. Equally annoying is the prevailing wisdom on how old a woman can be in order to be cast as a leading lady of a movie or television series in my part of the world. So, women who I have grown to love through their work are slowly being told to take on peripheral roles in large movies or TV series, or to work in little seen art house films. A mere ten years or so of honing their craft, and performers like Samiya Mumtaz have been relegated to taking on non-leading parts, whereas those in the audience that love them as leading ladies (especially in romantic roles) have no option but to keep watching their older work. Could anything be more unfair or depressing? For a lover of visual storytelling, I think not.

You know the images I told you about that are swirling in my head? Well, apart from that one image of Meena and Ashok resides an image of Juhi Chawla as she looks today, with ShahRukh Khan, as he looks today (sans all the make-up, botox and prosthetics, of course). They too are in a garden taking a brisk morning walk. SRK is all business, walking a few steps ahead of her. For a while, Juhi plays the good follower and imitates SRK's pace and tries to swing her arms as well to keep the joints exercised. But a few minutes later, she thinks of a memory from the past, when her limbs were supple naturally and needed no additional exercise. She thinks of how she loved jumping on his back, catching him unawares, and wonders if she can try to do that one more time before her limbs lose their remaining elasticity. "How's your back", she asks him. "Fine", he says. "Did the doctor say anything about what you're not supposed to do?. "Nah". With that, she turns her face towards the camera, breaks into that impish smile, and we know she will try to wrap herself around his torso, much like she did in the past when both their limbs were more supple and bodies more firm. The experience of love, after all, never changes even when one starts to age and one's body starts its inevitable decline!

Before you ask me about this movie, let me inform you that this scene is a figment of my imagination that has been fed a steady diet of some of their most romantic movies together. In those movies, I never felt that I was leaving the characters behind once the movie ended and they were, invariably, married to each other. I knew that the characters would go on to live an eventful life. Now I wish to see glimpses of that life as the characters start to enter their twilight years. Unfortunately, I am told that the audience might love Juhi in real life, and in her most iconic roles, but no one will pay good money to watch her romance SRK on screen, or for that matter, to see SRK as he looks now. He needs the botox, prosthetics, hair-weaving etc. to earn his pay check. He, unfortunately, has no choice; neither does Juhi. And this, I am told, is all my doing. When I was younger, I participated in a view that shut older female performers out of leading parts. Today's younger audience are merely keeping step with that hallowed tradition.

So much for being a progressive viewer! My younger self has left my older self with no option but to retreat into my self-created images. Juhi, SRK, here I come!
Edited by JNam - 7 years ago
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