Watching a movie is by itself an experience in India. The pushing
hordes are only allowed in after the first few minutes of the reel
has run. There is a mad rush to get in.
Then, as the crowd settles down the fun begins.
The heroine appears. Her cleavage shows. A red laser pointer is
pointed at her cleavage. The crowd roars in approval. Loud applause.
Wolf whistles.
She turns around in a huff after she encounters the hero. The red
laser pointer is directed to her posterior. The lecherous crowd
roars.
The hero smiles. Full shot of hero. The laser pointer moves between
his legs. More applause and roaring.
Two ushers storm in and remove the laser man, who protests his
innocence as he is virtually lifted out of his seat and shown the
door.
The crowd jeer. Funtime is over. Everything has now to be left to
the imagination.
But one thing is clear. The Indians are suckers for dialogue. Every
witty remark is greeted with applause. Every act of bravado is
greeted with applause. There is death quiet during the song sequence
when music appears from nowhere and the couple flit from tree to
tree.
For twenty- five rupees, the Indians enjoy their dreams. It is their
answer to harsh reality.
Ranjeet Singh is a writer based in Singapore. His "A Singaporean Discovers India" series can be found at ...
www.geocities.com
Often the movie watchers in India are primarily men. The women are seculded to the isolated private stalls in the balcony. I wonder what they think about all the laser pointing?
Posted by: Su | September 14, 2006 at 13:19