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My dear Anjali… you are better off marrying Aman. That is, if you love him. Else just live your life, lady. Slip into those pants. Tie that bandana around your unruly hair. But please, say a resounding no to Rahul.
I remember watching Kuch Kuch Hota Hai when I was in Class 12. Life was simple, and we were naïve. Wisdom sets in much later, and sometimes cine going memories can be endearingly cringeworthy. Right?
If only I could tweak this film a bit (or more), for its treatment of my favourite girl gets my goat. Where’s my magic wand?
Anjali Sharma. That charming tomboyish girl was portrayed as someone irritating. Well, give me Anjali any day over a fake Barbie. She’s beautiful, bold & bindaas. So what if Rahul has a problem with that? Go climb a tree, you confused bloke. Also, I am not against Tina. I can forgive her sanskaari song because, well, you know, these desi gals can be so ‘modern’ (rolling my eyes), and the filmmaker needs to put this record straight – singing Om Jai Jagdish equals a perfect 10 on the bharatiya sabhyata scale.
On the other hand, poor Anjali doesn’t even deserve a second look. My heart goes out to her. She should have been happy with her basketball and jumpers. How I wish someone would have given her a hug and said that she was loveable and no coquettish ada was required from here. But no. The demands of the ever-disproving society ultimately put pressure on her. She loves Rahul, but Rahul has fallen hook, like & sinker for the more feminine Tina. In a heart wrenching scene, Anjali tries to dress up like Tina, and end up being trolled by all. Including the holier-than-thou Tina. You failed your friend. And that last moment damage control was tacky, to say the least.
Years pass by. Anjali has finally agreed to marry Aman. But this time, Rahul falls for her. Because she is now in see-through chiffons. Aided by sudden gusts of wind which surprisingly fail to impact other people around. A Saree equals love, and basketball fades into the background because the pallu decides to play spoilsport.
After all, what right does an 8-year-old girl have to breeze into your life unannounced and decide that you and her dad are a match made in heaven? Yeah?! Rab ne nahi baniyi yeh jodi.
That’s precisely why I am loving these OTT platforms. They are full of rich content, strong characters and bold themes. Who can forget that delightfully devilish Begum from Gulabo Sitabo & Bulbbul? Now, these are women I would forever admire.
So, dear directors from the 90s. Thank you for those memories, but let’s break-up. Because I want to embark on a fresh relationship with the new age Hindi cinema. Adieu.
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I am a boring IT professional, lost in the monotonous world of Excel. So, I seek refuge in Word, pun intended.
And.. I am a crazy cat person, a badge I proudly flaunt. read more...
Women's Web is an open platform that publishes a diversity of views, individual posts do not necessarily represent the platform's views and opinions at all times.
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Did the creators of Masaba Masaba just wake up one morning, go to the sets and decide to create something absolutely random without putting any thought into it?
Anyone who knows about Neena Gupta’s backstory would say that she is a boss lady, a badass woman, and the very definition of a feminist. I would agree with them all.
However, after all these decades of her working in the Indian film industry, is her boldness and bravery the only things worth appreciating?
The second season of Masaba Masaba (2020-2022) made me feel as if both Neena Gupta and her daughter Masaba have gotten typecast when it comes to the roles they play on screen. What’s more is that the directors who cast them have stopped putting in any effort to challenge the actors, or to make them deliver their dialogues differently.
Believe me I was shocked, aghast, disgusted to be watching such bizarre, mindless activities day in and day out.
Recently I happened to read a remarkable post The Potential Dangers Of Phallus-Worshipping A Toddler on this forum itself. The ideas and practices described therein were revolting to say the least.
But would you believe that I had a sense of deja vu after reading it? I was once upon a time a mute witness to certain similar (yet not so similar) activities. Read on to find out.
It was sheer misfortune that I got married into an ultra orthodox house where ‘men’ were premium while women were no better than pair ki juttis/doormats.