A palatial bungalow conveniently placed near a thick jungle - locale unknown. No! No! You are wrong it’s not esteemed MSian @jmathur’s residence. That’s in Ligampalli, Hyderabad. This is somewhere near a Metropolis. But the city has to be reached by long drives in fashionable cars winding down lonely stretches of hilly roads.
Then there’s a charming chocolate boy with a lost, ever-baffled look, an aspiring boxer or wrestler or whatever, who is never seen practicing, no, not even a single frame. A punjaban kudi, his childhood friend, who nurtures a secret crush on him. Well, not so secret, after all, as the boy’s whole khaandan (full of exemplary people - Maa-Babuji, Bhayya-Bhabhi, a ‘mod’ trouser-clad Daadi and even a pet to boot, perennially dressed in a blue and green jacket, be it any season) seems to know about it and planning a coup of sorts to marry them off.
But here comes the twist. The chocolate boy is always getting lost in the jungle whenever his coach calls him for a match or practice and lands up in this desolate castle where lives a fully decked-up, dead-pan faced lass who plays the guitar attired in latest designer ensembles (awesome collection!!) and navy-blue contacts and mouths those black-and-white-movie-ke-zamaane-ka dialogues with a Madhubala-ish husky lilt….”Ham hotey kaun hai aapko roknewaale?” types. The only ear-sore is her Hindi which is kind of Katrina Kaif delivering Anarkali’s Khalist Urdu dialogues from Mughal-e-Azam with perfect English twang. Will anybody tell the Director or the actor that khwab is not just khwab but its kkkkhhhhwab pronounced from the Epiglottis as in Kkkkhhhan of My Name Is Khan fame?
Coming back to the plot, which thankfully till now, is bereft of meaningless sub-plots (because the main plot itself is so ridiculous!). However, there is twist-pe-twist. The lonely damsel is not the lady-in-distress but a chudail let loose. She calls herself Anamika. The serial calls itself Anamika. The audience knows that she is none-other-than-a-bhatakti-hui-aatma. But the innocent boy, God help him, who is progressively getting attracted towards her, does not know the truth. And I am sure he will not know the truth till the 100th episode is over. Simply because every time he bumps into her, he suffers from temporary amnesia(!!!!) and cannot remember where and with whom he has been(!!!!). How convenient...
And then there is a Naani, who seems to be the cleverest of the clan. She has a haggard looking pundit in toe to guide her about all the buri-aatmaaon-ka-saya. Now, the Punjabi kudi, who has graduated to being the fiancé, is suspicious of her Mangetar and sniffs foul play in the air. Egged by the Naani, she is trying to locate a black mark on the boy’s body, which is prominently penciled on his right (or is it left?) shoulder. But every time she is about to pounce on it some mishap or the other happens like somebody calling out or distracting her attention and the camera shifts focus. In the meantime, the chudail, who is obviously one step ahead of everyone else, has got hold of the poor pet and ghoosoed into his body to keep a tab on the boy. Wooaah! Wooaah!
Sorry guys! In between my mother’s channel-flicking, this is what I have gathered of the so-called story of this latest prime time tele-flick (or is it slick....did you say sick?) on Sony. If I have missed a clue somewhere, my maa’s solely to be blamed, coz her fingers dart extra-fast to grab the Remote as soon as the bhootiya score announces the start of the serial.
So please don’t ask me who the Director, Producer of the serial are or about the Star Caste etc. because I have no idea nor interest to know. The boy looks promising and may soon be seen on big screen. The girl has a permanent woebegone look and why wouldn’t she? What with a chudail of a soutan to fend with must be tough competition, eh?
After the prolonged Balaji ordeal, Anamika, surely is a ‘fresh brainwave’ bowling off the boundary those regressive extra marital flings, saans-bahu sagas, complex love triangles/quadrangles and love hysteria with crazy couples falling in love-getting married-splitting up with ugly divorces-remarrying each other all over again, (Just imagine!!!!), what say you?
The conventional paraphernalia – (mist couched figures, dark clouds, moon-less, foggy nights, deserted roads, rain-soaked jungles) – settings of a ghost story are all there, rather, an over-doze of it all. But what is not there is the ultimate effect. The spook is lost as the camera pans too long on one shot till the potatoes on the couch yawn and look for something to eat. If it’s someone like me she will run to the kitchen to finish off the last chores.
The icing on the cake is the thick Punjabi Malai glossed all over the serial. Every character prefixes his/her dialogue with a characteristic "oye" which kind of jars one’s auditory senses after a while. Coming to think of it, why is it always a Gujju, a Bong (remember Komolika?), a Tamil, a Punjabi, a Hindu, a Muslim, a Christian slosh over a serial? Why can’t they make a secular one since our Sarkar is so taken up with the ism sans a mandate?
Just munch this… a ‘committed’ chudail who gets all worked up and vengeful whenever a ‘paltician’ defects from his secular bhaashan and indulges in a communal act? Won’t it be something really hat-ke to watch?
Spoof For Thought