• Shirin & Farhad

    Anyone who has experienced a Mumbai monsoon can vouch for how miserable it can be when gusts of wind blow your umbrella inside out,  drains overflow and water streams down in slushy torrents down a hilly road and  the rain coming down in blinding sheets – leaving you with no option but to stay at home and watch and wait for the rain to stop. In such a scenario, going to the movies would seem a good alternative. Unfortunately, though, movie producers, who have bottom lines to consider,  think otherwise, preferring to release new films during the holidays or at festival time. Which is why, during the particularly dry monsoon, Jo and I had little option but to wait for the clouds to lift up before new movies hit the screen.  

    With movie tickets keeping in line with rising prices of other commodities, we try to maximise our movie experience by only watching those movies which have a low quotient for disappointment. Which is why we so looked forward to seeing Shirin Farhad……..

    I was so excited about seeing a movie after so long,  that I actually told Anna Shetty that I was going to see “Sharad” completely mixing up the two names much in the manner of my mother who is known for making such faux pas . Sadly, I find that after years of poking fun at her gaffes, I find myself making the same mistakes which goes to prove two undeniable truths

    • The apple never falls far from the tree
    • You land up becoming your mother.

    But getting back to the movie – it was a major disappointment. I was literally expecting to come back bellyaching with laughter but no such luck. Farhad a middle aged bachelor with a middle aged spread is blessed with an over bossy mom and a kind and understanding gran ( shades of “Vicky Donor?). While Shirin Phoogawalla is a kind big bosomed Babe staying  with comatose father and loving aunt and working as the Secretary of the Parsi Trust Organisation..  Finding a bride in a community of dwindling numbers is even more difficult for Farhad who has the added disadvantage of being a Bra SALESMAN in  Tem Tem’s Bra Shop. But fate has other things is store for the kind hearted Mama’s boy  in the form of Shirin Phoogawala who as a Trust Member insists on knocking down Nargish Pastakia’s illegally constructed water tank. With the stage set for Boy to meet Girl, romance is only natural as are the obstacles that come in the path of true love. Many unnecessary song and dance scenes later, including the miraculous recovery of a comatose Papa during a lip lock that looked more  awkward than passionate, thankfully the movie comes to an end.

    Predictably sterotyped with typical gags ( Uncle Firoze who is in love with Indira Gandhi), the gun toting crackpot of Soonawala colony and a story line which moves as slowly as the inhabitants of a Parsi colony, the movie sadly falls flatter than flat soda. What makes it worse are the songs which do nothing at all to the plot. Farah Khan’s maiden performance will sadly/gladly remain her last because she is simply unconvincing as Shirin. Boman Irani was equally forgettable and the only one who saved this movie from being a total flop was Nargish Pastakia even when she overdid the big eyes.

    Verdict : If you are looking for a Parsi movie with Parsi humour – forget it. You’d do better to hang out with your Bawa Gang at the club. What a pity. I was expecting to enjoy some great Lagan nu custar but all I came home with was a warm, flat soda.

    Enhanced by Zemanta
  • A joke for today


    Second
                                                          Marriage!

    My friend Dee always manages to make me smile with her email jokes. While many of them are too risque to share, this one brought a smile to my face which was as downcast as the overcast sky. It’s no fun to get up to a dark , grey sky pouring down in sheets……….

    Complementing
                                                          Jeeto

    Thanks Dee for the smile for today.

  • Sweet labourings

    After yesterday’s sybaritic experience at home, today turns out to be wet and gloomy.

    With my book in its last stages of correction before going off to the type setters, I was busy tying things up and tweaking recipes last minute. Since I have been officially designated as the Master Chef Puran Poli Maker of my generation after single-handedly making over two dozen polis for my mother-in-law’s 80th birthday last year, it was absolutely necessary for me to get at least that recipe pat. So the moment I got up I got down to making the stuffing of daal, sugar, cardamom and saffron . But the rest of the day turned out quite differently from how it had started out and the poli making plans had to be shelved. By afternoon though, the storm had settled and we converted our spare bedroom into a spa. Anna Shetty had expressed a desire to have a head massage and a pedicure so I contacted my friend Kay for the number of a masseur who is supposed to be an absolute whizz. It was an afternoon of sheer bliss – to soak one’s feet in hot water, have the most wonderful foot massage and have my toenails buffed to a pretty pearly pink.

    Anna Shetty and MIL went for the head massage which turned out to be more than that. As the masseur wrung out  the fatigue from the head, neck, arms, back and shoulders, I could see the tension ease out of M-I-P and Anna Shetty .

    This morning I woke up the the wonderful aroma of saffron, cardamom and pure ghee……. it Bayda the bai who had woken up early and had  attacked the puran with renewed vigour . I have just packed up a dozen of the best ever polis in my Samsung style and will deliver them to Anna Shetty before end of day.

    I can’t thank God enough for leaving someone behind to appreciate the fruits of my labour.

Design a site like this with WordPress.com
Get started