B-School

20 Sep

Me: I’m gonna make a short film with the Mallu Commie. Like a short-short documentary, kinda.

Child Artist: That guy is so EXTREME ya.

Me: No, no, he’s okay. He has a lot of respect for capitalism apparently.

Child Artist: I don’t know ya. I feel he is extreme.

Me: But you don’t think right wing assholes like Right Wing Assole are extreme for hating on homos?

I-Bank Mallu: What is it going to be about, your movie?

Me: The story of two Indias, you know. The divergent Indias, post, like, the liberalolution (liberalization revolution, I made it up myself, tacky, but cute, I thought). The theme of the film will be the juxtaposition of the aspirations, status, and future concerns of the invisible workers at college – the maids, the guards, the construction workers, the mess boys – with those of the students graduating from here. Blah blah blah…

30 MINUTES LATER, AFTER WATCHING A MASALA SHORT FILM ABOUT 4 COLLEGE FRIENDS (ONE OF WHOM IS AN AMEER BAAP KA BIGDA HUA LAADLA WITH “A HEART DISEASE, DAMMIT”)

I-Bank Mallu: You should make a film like this only, with some story and all. What juxtapose.

Child Artist: Some juxtapose and all she wants to do, I don’t know.

Me: Ya so true only.

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Cheap Muff.

6 Sep

Good news for lezzos with racial fetishes! Now get pussy at throwaway prices! Come one, come all, come butch, andros, bois and femmes…HURRY! 

JJWS

4 Sep

My favourite Hindi movie of the 1990s was unarguably Jo Jeeta Wohi Sikander. Although splitting at the sides with the kind of valuable moral lessons that pre-adolescents assume constitute the adult moral fabric, it was not for any of the following prosaic wisdoms that I arranged the movie with such pride of place in my mental gallery of Favourite Hindi Films (ahead of Chaalbaaz but behind Gol Maal):

1. Boarding schools produce the most self-centred, cunt-ish  jocks. H8 the Rajputs man.

2. Simple, tomboyish girls (Ayesha Jhulka as the high priestess of this category, daughter of a mechanic no less) are way nicer than rich daddy’s chicks who wear loud make-up and dress in a retro-cute throwback to the 80s. Pooja Bedi, you suck.

3. Poor and happy > Rich and douchey

For six months I returned home from Kingswood High School, microwaved the frozen lunch my mother had left for my brother and I, slipped in the VHS tape labeled JJWS in my fucked up cursive handwriting, lay down on the ugly beige sofas we had picked up from the side of a street corner near the RSL in Penrith, and shouted Sanju! Go Sanju!! GOOO SANJU YOU CAN DO IT!!!

But the single most important standout thing, the crux of the matter, the fulcrum around which my obsession with JJWS revolved – Aamir Khan’s stout, muscled, throbbing legs in those flimsy white shorts. I seriously ❤ calves.