Once in a trifle while comes along that one unsuspecting
Bollywood movie
that makes your breath catch. In between
it's characteristic excess and the customary thumkas,
it turns your heart over,
with the unsoiled essence of it's spirit,
reminding you
(through that adorably-loud Bolly subtext)
of things
you had known all along.
Queen is more than just a coming of age tale
of the Chinese food loving, boyfriend abiding,
tame, middle class Rajouri-Garden girl who
holds her simple ethics and
simpler dreams so close to her heart, that she cannot, for the
longest period of time, hear her own
heart's dialogue.
So that when her "ek se ek achha ladka mil jaega tumhe Rajouri mein" boyfriend
bails on her on the eve of their big fat Punjabi wedding,
she is stripped down to the last thread of her being - all of
her life-long convictions and wishlists now gone for a toss.
Queen, at it's simplest level the English translation of
Kangna's nondescript name, also translates to the discovery
of that fierce, no-less-than-royal sense of
individual identity that so often escapes us.
It is about the walk, that one journey that might
take us from Lajpat to Champs Elysee, from
barfi shops to neon bars,
from wherever, to
wherever, wherever we await
our own arrival.
It is about dancing silly to trashy numbers,
Skypeing drunk with the parents,
driving, when you thought you could never,
accepting
friends out of strangers, and
strangers out of lovers (and
being equally grateful of both.) It is
about meeting
all those people that you could be, without
giving up on the person that you already
are.
It is about friendship, courage, choices -
but mostly, it is about believing,
in yourself, in the
Queen who when robbed by the world of her crown, can
still laugh and say:
"Mujhe Rock Show jana hain!"
It is about the
grace
inherent in every one of us, the
one shaped like sorrow and
smelling of freedom.
So when Rani hugs the man who broke her heart and
thanks him,
you believe her, against the odds. Kangna's Queen
pitches her wise innocence against
worldly bitterness, and you gasp,
as you are reminded, in the unlikely setting of an urban theater,
of the all-reforming power of
goodness.
So. Here's to stumbling upon the movie that hugged me back in the blue dark of a carpet aisle.
To letting go,
and not being afraid.
:)
Bollywood movie
that makes your breath catch. In between
it's characteristic excess and the customary thumkas,
it turns your heart over,
with the unsoiled essence of it's spirit,
reminding you
(through that adorably-loud Bolly subtext)
of things
you had known all along.
Queen is more than just a coming of age tale
of the Chinese food loving, boyfriend abiding,
tame, middle class Rajouri-Garden girl who
holds her simple ethics and
simpler dreams so close to her heart, that she cannot, for the
longest period of time, hear her own
heart's dialogue.
So that when her "ek se ek achha ladka mil jaega tumhe Rajouri mein" boyfriend
bails on her on the eve of their big fat Punjabi wedding,
she is stripped down to the last thread of her being - all of
her life-long convictions and wishlists now gone for a toss.
Queen, at it's simplest level the English translation of
Kangna's nondescript name, also translates to the discovery
of that fierce, no-less-than-royal sense of
individual identity that so often escapes us.
It is about the walk, that one journey that might
take us from Lajpat to Champs Elysee, from
barfi shops to neon bars,
from wherever, to
wherever, wherever we await
our own arrival.
It is about dancing silly to trashy numbers,
Skypeing drunk with the parents,
driving, when you thought you could never,
accepting
friends out of strangers, and
strangers out of lovers (and
being equally grateful of both.) It is
about meeting
all those people that you could be, without
giving up on the person that you already
are.
It is about friendship, courage, choices -
but mostly, it is about believing,
in yourself, in the
Queen who when robbed by the world of her crown, can
still laugh and say:
"Mujhe Rock Show jana hain!"
It is about the
grace
inherent in every one of us, the
one shaped like sorrow and
smelling of freedom.
So when Rani hugs the man who broke her heart and
thanks him,
you believe her, against the odds. Kangna's Queen
pitches her wise innocence against
worldly bitterness, and you gasp,
as you are reminded, in the unlikely setting of an urban theater,
of the all-reforming power of
goodness.
So. Here's to stumbling upon the movie that hugged me back in the blue dark of a carpet aisle.
To letting go,
and not being afraid.
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