Bad Bad Beera

So. Mani Ratnam's Raavan had its moments. Like when SP Dev burns cigarette holes into a newspaper cutout that features Beera and his gang and the holes look like ten heads. Cool. But random inspired moments do not make a film. Next to me, my dad kept muttering in Marathi, "So how much are we supposed to forgive just because its Mani??" Die hard fans of the filmmaker, my dad and I sat through it, while my mum made the subtle excuse of aching legs to sit in PVR's lobby and eat salted popcorn instead. Unfortunately, terrible person that I am, I forgive, but never forget. Therefore, for your benefit...

The Ten Things in Raavan you WILL have to Forgive Mani and Friends for:

1. SP Dev (Vikram) doesn't really know what side he is on. He is far from being the god-like Ram. He kills (Beera's brother), trusts (Govinda's Sanjeevani) and hurts (Beera's brother in law) at random. Mani thinks taking a leaf out of Sanjay Gupta's book and giving his character dark glasses can replace the need for character definition altogether.
2. Sabyasachi lurks somewhere outside the frame so that Aishwarya's Raagini can look drop dead gorgeous in every shot. Even when she takes to wearing clothes given by the tribals, Sabya's gorgeous block print is a recognisable distraction on the blouse.
3. Santosh Sivan and V. Manikanandan are roped in for the cinematography with the assumption that they can make up for plot. In several parts, they almost do.
4. Govinda is allowed to do Spiderman-like stunts as the human-Hanuman, Sanjeevani and we are expected to believe that the khamba of desi-lemon daaru he lugs around is responsible for this. Also, he finds Raagini in the thick forest in minutes once he decides to, while the police force who have been at it for days just can't. 
5. If you looked at the trailers closely enough, you already knew this: Beera (Abhishek Bachchan) with his chandan-painted face is the Joker's naajayaz aulad. He laughs, grunts and mutters like a psychopath: "Chik Chik Chik Chik" and "Bak Bak Bak Bak" being his favoured phrases. Thankfully, Beera does not dress up as a nurse or cut up peoples smiles. He only ties people to strange scarecrow-mannequins and blows up police camps in true-blue Dark Knight fashion.
6. Hilariously enough, Raagini who is free to run from the clutches of the wily Beera, doesn't do so for fourteen days, because understandably, she will never be able to find her way out of the jungles. Yet, when her "purity" is questioned by her pati Dev, she simply stops-train-by-pulling-chain, gets off empty handed and reaches Beera's pad a short walk and a bus ride later.
7. There are two climactic scenes. These were probably necessary to extend a two page screenplay into a forty page one. The first climax involves gravity-and-fire-defying stunts on a wooden ropeway and you can hear the tiny wooden planks groan under the combined weight of Abhishek Bachchan and Vikram.
8. In the second climax, Raagini is dressed up in white. And she arrives in this attire to question Beera on the whole purity issue. And Beera is dressed in black. Ah! The subtle symbolism.
9. There are too many songs in the film. If you sat through Guru wondering what the point of the "Ek Lo Ek Muft" song was, prepare to wonder while "Thok De Killi" and "Kata Kata Bechaara Bakra" play. Strangely, Mani takes from Ekta Kapoor in the film. Her *Dhadhan. Dhadhan. Dhadhan* during the vamp's entrance is replaced with a *Beera. Beera. Beera*.  The glory, power and evil of Raavan is thus reduced to the purposeless cattiness of Komolika  :-|
10. The only true representation Mani achieves in the film is that of the nature of a man's love vs a woman's. Really. It only takes a long jump down a waterfall, a landing on a thorny protruding branch, a collapse and near-drowning in the river, a rock climbing adventure and an attack with a pointy rock for Beera to fall in love with Raagini. Meanwhile, all it takes for Raagini to fall for Beera is Dev's "rejection" and Beera's belief that she is pure "like gold which glows more when it is burned in a fire".

Anatomy of the Marathi TV Serial

Having spent a rather large part of this week with my grandparents in Pune, I finally got the opportunity to reconnect with my roots. Did I attend a authentic Marathi culture fest? No. Did I examine folk art of the tamasha or the warlis? Nope. Did I connect with members of my linguistic community on topics of cultural importance? Hell no!
Instead I spent a small part of my trip accompanying the grandparents in their daily activities of Soaping. Ew. Not that kind of soaping, children. I am talking, obviously, of the Marathi TV serial. For four whole days this week, I was tried on a diet of Bhairoba, Shubam Karoti, Saam Gurukul and Sa Re Ga Ma Pa. I learnt later that these were in the good company of Anubandha, Vahinisaheb, Kunku, Kulavadhu, Avaghachi Sansaar and the irresistable Home Minister. This final one is not of the daily soap type (neither actually, are Saam Gurukul and Sa Re Ga Ma Pa)...but deserves a little discussion because of the sheer volumes of audience it engenders.
It is with great excitement and typical Maharashtrian fervour, then, that I proceed to dissect some of these. Any remarks about Maharashtrians are to be taken with a pinch of salt...As Chetan Bhagat would put it, you only joke about the people you love... As for the non-Maharashtrians, I can promise you none of this is limited only to the Marathi-speaking population. We are a nation of screwed up people. If you have ever watched the likes of the K-serials, Saloni ka Safar, Choti Bahu... you will get my drift.

Chapter One: The "Ghatasfot"
This one is my personal favourite. I find it extremely interesting that the word for 'divorce' in Marathi is so similar to the word for 'bomb blast' ("bomsfot")... And the ghatasfot is a calamity of similar proportions in the Marathi TV serial. Its eruption causes so much drama that I can assure you divorce lawyers are almost as hated as Kasab in the Marathi serial world. Almost.
Ofcourse, like every other patriarchal community, we like to blame the woman for the ghatsfot. Afterall, the "mangalsutraachi aabru" comes with a built in "lakshman rekha" which these on screen women are blamed for crossing... faster than you can say SEXIST.

Chapter Two: Garbhavati - The Pregnant Woman
Sounds like a B-movie no? Anyway, remember: a woman is never just a woman. She is the upholder of tradition and sau(n)skaar. Therefore, some very logical equations follow.
Pre-marital sex = Paap (Sin)
Pre-marital sex + Pregnancy = Maha paap (and the woman is always asked how she "let" it happen/influenced the mind of the innocent boy and forced him into it)
Ofcourse, this is also the ultimate weapon to force an unwilling saasu to get her son married to you. Ladies, take note for future reference.
The upside: the married Garbhavati can use her pregnancy as an all access pass. An excellent tool to improving your "bad boy" husband, pleasing your in-laws and "improving" a breaking marriage. Brownie points for giving birth to a boy...but still accepted for delivering a future-grabhavati to the world.

Chapter Three: The Mishter
Alternatively addressed as "Bara kaa" or "Aaho" or "Aamche Hey" (which literally translated, means "Ours this one"). Like any good Indian woman, the Marathi bai never ever calls her husband by his name. Therefore, he is often referred to as her "mishter". The Mishter is a rather insignificant cog in the serial world because in the larger scheme of Garbhavatis, Saubhagyavatis, Ardhaanginis, Saasus and Vamps, the innocent husband has little to do. He comes. He earns the bread and butter. He occesionally stands up for his wife/mother/sister. He impregnates (because sperm banks are still a novelty to our world) and he conquers.

Chapter Four: The Home Minister
If you ever get a chance, you must MUST catch the TV show by the same name on Zee Marathi. Hosted by the delicious (ok...maybe not...) Aadesh Bandekar, this is the guilty pleasure of several housewives in Maharashtra. On the show, women of the socio-economic middle class compete with each other in several simplistic games- dumb charades where they must mime names of common household items, spoon races, antakshari contests and so on. The grand prize that each vahini is willing to kill for? A Paithani saree...and of course the respect and envy of others in the neighbourhood. Therefore, when Mr. Bandekar comes a visiting, the housewives invite the whole village to see the sport. And they gracefully stand in a crowd waiting to be introduced - "This is my mishter. My first son. My second son. The neighbours son. My uncle. My husband's best friend's wife. My husband's best friend's wife's sister..."...you get the drift. The only reason why this one is a personal favourite is the fact that it really reaches out to the masses...and gives these women what my Lit teacher would call a celebratory space- where they can celebrate being women- without excluding the males in their lives.

Epilogue
I would have loved to include
Chapter 5: The Mutual Admiration Society of Reality Show Judges... but if you've seen Himesh going "Excellent. Mind Blowing!! History!!!!" every two seconds on Sa Re Ga Ma Pa...you already know....
Chapter 6: The Saasu (Mother in Law) requires no further description

and many such...but maybe in true blue TV serial fashion I'll sign of with the dramatic...TO BE CONTINUED....
and in true blue viewer fashion, expect to be let down. :)