ali fights back: don’t blame the media, bitch!
Gasp!! I sat there in shock. And as the gravity of what had just happened became clearer, the shock turned to grief. The gasps turned into wailing. It couldn’t be. Life was not supposed to be this way. How could Amitabh get killed. He was ‘Muqaddar ka Sikandar’. He was the hero. Heroes don’t die. They always win. What would become of the world now that the savior lay dead. I would never get to meet him now. I was inconsolable. I was still in grieving next day in class 1C. During recess a cheeky bastard said Amitabh was just an actor and he was a fake. I kicked his ass. Sorry, Abdul Kareem Ice Cream (It was funny then). That incident earned a call to mom.
She concocted this whole story about Amitabh faking his death to trick the badies. This made some sense. But I needed solid proof. Mom had lied about the tooth fairy last year. That friday dad grabbed another pirated bollywood movie. Sure enough there was super cop. Talking smack and kicking ass. The world was going to be okay afterall. Faith was restored. Mom wasn’t such a big liar. For weeks after that I would sing ‘Rotay hoay aate hein sab’ while riding my bicycle to and from school. I would stand on the pedals, Hands off handles, Doing lazy Ss, the works. Good Times.
But dont let that story leave you with an impression of life bollywooded. Movies were a special occasion. To be enjoyed by the whole family. Once a month, maybe. And they were sources of material for the obligatory entertainment routines. We weren’t allowed in the drawing room with guests. Lest we embarrass our parents with our manners and gluttony. But at a certain point during the evening we would be entered to perform our tableau and earn our treats before being sent of to bed. I had a repertoire of numbers down pat. A good entertainer keeps his material fresh and is always ready for an encore. I specially liked doing “Aega Shehri Babu, tum dil pe rakho qabu”. Another favourite was “Jaanoo meri Jaan, Mein tere Qurbaan” and I would cheekily subsitute Pakistan for Hindustan in the next line to even greater applause.
Somehow, we managed to remain cute and not be the “prepubescent little dorks”, that rocky mentioned in her comments a couple of posts ago. We even grew up to be abnormally honest, sincere, even innocent. In later years, we saw a lot more movies and TV, even stuff we wish we hadn’t seen. We were raised by our parents though, and that seems to have been the dominating factor. I really believe children mirror the adults around, not just in words and actions but also in attitudes.
(guest post courtesy of the artist formerly known as alibhai)
