A Little Too Dirty

Ever since I’d heard about Milan Luthria's The Dirty Picture (TDP), I was a little more than excited. Of course the name was attractive but when I Google-d Silk Smitha and got to know about her story, I was thrilled that a movie with such a subject will be made. Then came the promos and the movie had me on the first line of ‘Ooh La La’. The skin show on television was slightly funny but then came the reviews. I mostly relied on The Hindu and the Crest edition of Times Of India and I was mesmerized. I knew I had to watch this movie in a theater.

Very honestly, I was quite disappointed.

I missed the first 10 minutes of the movie – and came to realize later that I wouldn’t have minded very much had I missed whole of the first part. The minute I sat on my seat, I encountered the first heavily punned dialogue. Ignored. As the movie progressed, Vidya’s struggle attracted me. It was impressive to see her dressed like a South Indian but with the boldness of god-knows-where. She looked the enthusiastic, young kid who’d do just about anything to get herself in the industry. Then came her first shot. It was mind blowing, literally. And I still haven’t forgotten the really tacky way in which her tongue moved around. But I ignored that too, thinking that would one just one instance. But what the hell, the first part of the entire movie was filled with the same moves, moans of different pitches and the awkward tongue. She herself had said that this movie doesn’t get vulgar. If you talk about dressing style, well maybe but the moves – downright vulgar. By the intermission, my head was throbbing and I had half a mind to leave the theater right away. But I wasn’t going to waste my money. After the interval, began the story of her downfall. She was definitely affected by the men in her life – Nasseruddin Shah, as ‘Smashing Surya’ and Tushar Kapoor his brother. Love finds her in her biggest hater Emraan Hashmi but he was a little too late. The double standards of these men force her to take an arrogant stand against the world and completely kill her after the face-off of with the newbie Shalaka. Her production venture fails, she has nothing to live for and the last offer she gets is from an adult movie maker. She realizes that Reshma was lost somewhere in Silk’s extremities and commits suicide.

There are no conversations in the movie. Every actor has a set of lines which are double entendres and sound more like dialogue-baazi. Full of innuendos, every line, every move is suggestive. Nasseruddin Shah comes off well as the chauvinist superstar who could make an actress his heroine and his mother at the same time. Tushar Kapoor is the vulnerable male living under the shadow of his brother and has to pay heed to him more than Silk. Emraan Hashmi is the director who hates sleaze but ultimately ends up making a film with a lot of it. As an autobiography, it is probably worth watching but as an independent movie, it pretty much fails. Questions like is this the fate of women who bare all are rendered useless since this movie is primarily based in the 80s. Vidya Balan is a wonderful actress but she overdid it. Her belly was attractive only for the first few minutes and soon became a bag of flesh. Too much cleavage, too much vulgarity makes Vidya fail. The only part where I felt a bit of remorse was when she dies without meeting her mother.

The movie only deserves two stars.

No Cure, Not Ever

If charity begins at home, then so does everything else- bias, stereotyping.

I am not advocating women rights here. Even though this might turn out be another feminist article but that is not exactly what I mean to put across. Because I feel I’m not qualified to do so.

For the 19 years that I have lived, I have seen my mother follow the same routine like a ritual. From 5 in the morning to 10 in the night, she took care of our food, our sleep, our homework, our studies, us. One might frown and say that hey look, my mother does the same. I agree. All mothers follow more or less the same routine with the same objective of taking care of the family. But what happens when they decide to change their lifestyles and live for themselves?

Picture this: a woman, who has worked for more than a decade, is suddenly forced to leave her job one day, moves to a different city where she has no social life and her only companion is the idiot box. How does her family treat her now? Now that she is not working, she has nothing to do all day. The children come home and pester her as to why doesn’t she make tasty lunch. “Mom, you’re free all day!” The husband comes home to find faults in random things. “What have you been doing all day?!” Well, the tiffins were ready, the water for bathing was warm enough, the lunch was served hot, there were snacks for the evening and dinner would’ve been ready in sometime. So, what was she doing all day? Nothing, yet everything.

Why is it that we can’t tolerate a woman sitting in front of the television, enjoying herself, without worrying about what chore she has to do next? Does she always have to be doing something to show that she does something? If she has a maid cooking for her, everyone will grant her even more free and then if she assigns any work to any other member of the family, there is wave of reaction. “You are not doing anything! Why don’t you do this yourself?” If she’s going to shop for herself, then the family has an objection. “Why herself? She should buy me something first!” If she’s looking for clothes for herself and needs assistance, everyone shakes their heads and moves on but if she does the same, then she’s selfish. In any case, there’s no respite for her because she is a woman. One tiny mistake in taking care of something trivial is a cause for havoc in the house. I have seen this scenario and unfortunately, have been a part of it. All of us, who study, advocate and fight for feminism, who live in 21st Century boasting in social gatherings of how our women have become independent, somewhere or the other are a part of what we are fighting against.

We can have a 2^nd Wave of Feminism and maybe a 20^th Wave many years down the line, what’s deep rooted cannot go out with education, awareness, protests- nothing. It’s hereditary, genetic, and even epidemic. While real diseases maybe cured, this one can never be.