’’In my next life, I want to be a can of Diet Coke ...’’
I don’t blame you if you uttered the same after watching the Diet Coke commercial in which a group of magnets ... er ... attractive damsels gyrated, rubbing a can of Diet Coke (with a generous dash of pesticides) on their ... ahem ... bodies.
However, come to think of it, being a can of Diet Coke would be like a one-night stand. As soon as the gorgeous beauties consume your ... er ... liquid, you are resigned to having an affair with the nearest garbage bin. (This affair is bound to be a long-lasting affair because the BMC never clean garbage bins, but that’s a different matter).
Moral: Dikhaave pe mat jaao, and no, you are not reading a review on Sprite. What I mean is that if one goes by today’s commercials, then the only way to ’buy’ love and admiration would be to wear a particular perfume, munch a particular brand of chips, use a particular cellular service, wear a particular underwear (!) and drink a particular soft drink laden with pesticides (They are in indirectly calling you ’pests’ by serving you pesticides!)
So, if you cannot bat and exclaim ’Ailaa!’ like Tendliya and cannot be perfect like Aamir Khan, how can you drive yourself into people’s hearts at a speed that would have Micheal Schumacher hiding himself in shame? How can you ensure that people either love or hate, but never ignore you? How do you take the lift to fame and not waste time climbing the staircase? There are two ways - either climb the Qutub Minar, (The Delhi One, not the one Aamir Khan is about to show us in the Coke commercial), and threaten everybody, ’’Cover me in the media, or else, I will commit syyyuuusaaaide, and you will remain chakki pissing and pissing and pissing.’’ However, with this method, there are chances that people may not care if someone as worthless as you commits ’syyyuuusaaaide’ and they may not pay heed to your threats. In that case, you must follow the second alternative - Fit springs to your shoes, bob up and down as if you are travelling in a Mumbai local, have your mop of hair falling over your forehead and stutter away to glory, ’’H-h-h-h-hey, c-c-c-can’t you pay attention to me, haan?’’
A young filmi aspirant from Delhi happened to follow my second advice. He happens to respond to the name Shah Rukh Khan.
Whether he has a speech disorder (Darr), throws off girls from terraces as if they are frisbees (Baazigar), lies his way into stealing someone else’s bride (DDLJ) or tricks his boss into selling mangoes (Yes Boss), Shah Rukh Khan has managed to garner the audience’s hysteria with whatever he has done. I am not necessarily saying that whatever he has done is great, I am merely stating that here is one personality who either has youngsters wearing their shirts with one side tucked in and one side tucked out, or on the other hand has castigating reviews on sites like MS with innumerable comments against him. Why is this ’non-actor, who has a flat nose, untidy hair, short stature and faulty d-d-d-dialogue delivery’ having anyone and everyone offer an opinion on him? If you say that he registered his impact with the badlaa role a la Dharmendra in Baazigar, think again. If you say it was because of his obsessive act in Darr, think again. If you think it was because of the mushy DDLJ, think again. All right, I know you are not used to thinking so much! But, along the way, came a film, which wasn’t as big an SRK hit, yet, it had him playing the underdog, the guy who doesn’t win, and he shrugged it off with a smile. We Indians love to cry, don’t we? We just love to lament, ’’Kabhi Haan Kabhi Naa’’ ...
For all concerned, let me clarify that there is no need to bang your foreheads, I am not mentioning the name of an Ekta Kapoor tear-jerker. The title Kabhi Haan Kabhi Naa may be resembling Ekta’s answer to Adolf Hitler’s torturing devices, but in reality, it is the name of one of the best films of the nineties.
Shah Rukh Khan plays Sunil, who has three major passions in his life.
The first passion, which we all must be sharing, is music. Gifted with being able to play the trumpet and the harmonica, Sunil is part of a small-time band. Imran (Ashutosh ’Lagaan’ Gowarikar), Chris (Deepak ... Oops! ... Tijori) and Aana (Suchitra Krishnamurthy) are the other ’nikamme’ (no pun intended with my MS Id), who are part of the band. Low on experience and high on talent, this band is eager to make it big some day.
Sunil’s second passion is Aana. He loves her with all he has, but Aana never reciprocates ... (Can I hear a few wisecracks from other MS members as to who would reciprocate when the guy is SRK?)
The third passion includes flunking his examinations at the same rate that the Pakistani team changes its captain, but that’s a different matter ...
Kabhi Haan Kabhi Naa is a honest and refreshingly different film from Kundan Shah. After the incredible Jaane Bhi Do Yaaron, Shah comes up with another winner. Sweet, simple, true ... all the adjectives used for the nonsense that is churned out nowadays (Andaaz et al) actually apply to Kabhi Haan Kabhi Naa.
The joys of receiving your crush at the railway station, the jealousy at seeing someone else getting close to her, the jitteriness before receiving your results, the triumph at having composed a new tune ... Kabhi Haan Kabhi Naa immediately strikes a chord.
Good music from Jatin-Lalit is an added plus point. It’s great to hear the under-used Amit Kumar infuse great vigour in the songs while singing for Shah Rukh’s character. Apart from the Rasputin-inspired ’Sachi yeh kahani hai’ (which is enjoyable as well), all other songs are original and peppy. Most importantly, the songs are not forced into the narrative. Watch out for ’Deewaana tera deewana’, with Amit Kumar in fine form and a great picturisation which perfectly merges into the story. Kumar Sanu finally decides to consume a packet of Coldarin and ceases to sound his usual nasal self in ’Ae kaash ke hum’. A brilliant song, with even better picturisation, wherein Sunil wants to hold onto the moment, knowing that it is too good to last forever.
Most of the performances are competent enough. Ashutosh Gowarikar, Deepak Tijori, Suchitra Krishnamurthy and Naseerudin Shah as the wacky priest act with finesse. But, towering above the rest, Shah Rukh Khan is the life of Kabhi Haan Kabhi Naa. The audience laughs with him when he enjoys with Aana, they rejoice with him when he saves his friends from an underworld don (a hilarious gig by Goga Kapoor), they sympathise with him when he owns up conjuring a counterfeit marksheet and they cry with him at the end of the movie, as he watches Aana slipping from his fingers, to be happy with a different guy whom she loves.
I wonder how SRK does it every time. He flunks his examinations four times in a row, conjures up fake marksheets, lies blatantly, watches his loved one marry his friend, and at the end of the day, he wipes a tear, flashes his dimpled smile, and is asked for directions by ... hold your breath ... Juhi Chawla!
Seriously, Mein Shah Rukh Khan Banna Chahta Hoon!
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P.S. : A passing thought ... why is it that the best SRK movies are always those in which he gets slapped? (DDLJ, Kabhi Haan Kabhi Naa ...)
K-k-k-k-k-kabhi haan toh k-k-k-k-k-kabhi naa! Lekin c-c-c-c-comment to zaroor likhna!