I've been watching more films than I ought to over the last few weeks, so forgive me if this sounds a little bit more melodramatic than it ought to be. Melodramatic because, I have decided to lambaste and scream foul over something that has been the rule of thumb for decades. Filmmakers in this country have used these techniques over and over again to achieve some oblivious gain. A gain so futile, that ven after being exaggerated and over analyzed by one such as myself, it still makes no logical sense. I believed in a Bollywood lover's review and decided to venture out and watch 'Ajab Prem Ki...' on my own. So here was I, feigning sleep and over-exhaustion, queuing up in front of this multiplex's ticket counter, wondering if I was doing the right thing. Right thing anxiety, why you ask? Well, it was because a few weeks ago, purely to avoid a love interest's juvenile nagging capabilities, I agreed to watch 'All The Best'. Three hours later I realised the best part of the film was that it was finally over! The film was however heralded by reviewers around the country as a laugh riot, sprinkled with one-liners that would make you want to giggle with glee and smile for the rest of the day. Did I watch the same movie? I'm still not too sure, 'cause getting out even the most fakest of giggles was as huge a herculean task as I have ever performed during a movie. Anyway, so here I was at the ticket counter, surrounded by at least a hundred of Mumbai's teenage lovers all excited, heart palpitating, palms sweating etc., breathless at the prospect of intimacy in a dark theatre. To make things worse. the little birdie that often flies up from the extremities of my heart to the extremities of my brain, did just that all over again, and soon I heard a tweety little convincing voice saying, 'maybe it will be nice, think positively romo...' I want to shoot that birdie! I want to stuff it and ensure its goddamn race ends! The film sucked. Asphyxiation might have been more pleasurable, but I would ensure to choke Ranbir Kapoor in a string of his own thick lines and drown Katrina Kaif, in a pool of her own miserable-ness, before I dimmed out my own precious lights. What were they thinking? What was anyone thinking? How do people watch such crap, pay money for it, and come out smiling gleefully? Were there secret psychological colour-coded messages that I missed in a blink and everyone else was hypnotized by? Forgetting all that however, can someone please explain to me why the makers of 'Ajabu2026' who (very) clearly shot most of the film in Udhagmandalam, (Ooty, to the uninitiated), claimed that the film was shot in Maharashtra? Is there some rule that says you can never say where a film was really shot? Or is Ooty not cool enough for your audience? Just you wait, you maker of this horrible film! When someone goes to Khandala or wherever else you claim it was shot, and realises that the place looks in no way similar to your movie locations, I hope they curse you till your extremities hurt! Grrrrrrr, I could bite your head off right now!

I've been watching more films than I ought to over the last few weeks, so forgive me if this sounds a little bit more melodramatic than it ought to be

Bollywood's dream merchants?

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