The Nath Theatre in Toronto was in existence before the Indian media had coined the terms "NRI" and "Bollywood": it was 1974 and I was nine years old. Every Sunday they had a double feature of recent Bombay hit films. In addition to popcorn one could buy samosas at the vending section in the traditional American theater lobby that perhaps was the past venue to Errol Flynn and James Cagney films.
I lost my innocence here in this theater watch Raj Kapoor’s BOBBY while chewing on small rotis anointed with South Indian hemp pickle prepared by my mum. "Main Shair Tho Nahin"? What did these words in this magical foreign language mean? I spoke a little Telegu at home and (at the time) knew absolutely no Hindi or Urdu.
I could not explain the tears that flowed in the darkness when the young Kapoor is beaten by the knife wielding villain and his fellow goons and was elated to profound joy in the end when Dimple Kapadia is rescued from a river and reunited by her father and father-in-law with her true love.
Dimple Kapadia was the first girl I had ever felt that pining, gnawing experience of physical lust combined with emotional "I just want to be with her" type of puppy love. My nine year old spine had kundalini that could flow no where but into a reproductive organ that until then was non-existent.