Sparks of artistry: February 2006

There were around 50 people inside, including the judge, the accuser and the accused. Yes. The court.

The accuser stood there staring at the accused. The accuser was none other than my own self. And the accused i.

e. the defendants, you shall know.

It was to be the first day of the trial. I had hired no lawyer for myself. Had decided to argue for myself since I didn't suppose any other person would be able to exhibit effectively the trauma and the feelings I was going through.

I had watched a lot of Indian movies. So, I knew all those techniques by which to persuade the judge into my side of the case. Those breathless sentences.

That emotion choked voice. Those would be my trump cards, I had decided. And the reason I was accusing them?

I had been enduring unbearable pain that last one week. The overpowering temptation had been killing me. The lack of energy played its part in torturing me, too.

You can't make out much from it, now.

Have drained me of energy. Have made me sleepless. Have made me
restless.

"

" the judge yelled, staring at me.

Yelled them, in fact. Hadn't he heard me? Or was he feigning it?

Or had the accused bribed him, maybe, to keep repeating those lines endlessly? The answer to those questions was given by the judge's secretary who whispered to him (that is, yelled to all the others) the words, "Sir, you forgot to switch on your ear-machine."

Damn. I had to repeat those lines all over again.

And thereby, have made me go hungry. Have drained me of energy. Have made me sleepless.

Have made me stop getting entertained. Have made me restless."
"Wow!

" I thought. I had done a very good job memorising those lines. I looked around and noticed their lawyer looking restless.

Realising that he looked like he was about to yell, "Objection, your honour!" any moment, I continued, immediately.

. what's that word..

. oh yes! "- your honour!

" I said, grandly.
The onlookers began an instant continuous chattering as if they had been waiting all that while only for it.
"Shut up!

" echoed the judge's voice. Everyone looked shocked. Silence reigned again.

"I mean...

Order!" continued the judge, sheepishly. The judge, apparently, was as nervous as all those onlookers and the lawyer.

And alright, I admit. I was nervous too. Of course, anyone would be.

If those eight people that were accused were named, A.R. Rahman, Aamir Khan, Rakesh OmPrakash Mehra, Kamlesh Pandey, Binod Pradhan, David Reed, Ronnie Screwvala and Atul Kulkarni.

I had rightly initiated the case against them. They had to be blamed, of course. Justice lay on my side.

I continued, earnestly.

.. I was just.

.. practising," the lawyer stammered, sheepishly and hastened to add, looking at me, "am sorry, you can continue.

"

. Yes. I remembered.

Who is Rama, in there, now?" demanded the judge, looking at those eight.I stood there confounded.

The secretary whispered, "Sir, your machine is not properly fitted." The judge seemed to understand and plugged the machine deeper into his ears.

Not Rama. Trauma. Pain.

Agony. Torme-"

" the judge scorned.

I gulped, again.

This question is highly irrelevant. Our accuser knows Aamir Khan and yet he wants to demean him by asking his name in public."

I had to act fast. I did so.

And how does he know that I know his name?" I quipped.

The judge looked serene again. Ingenuity. Had won again.

The other lawyer walked meekly to his seat.

"

"

Rahman?"

It seemed fascinating that such a genius should lie hidden under such an innocent looking face. I cleared my throat again, bringing my mind to more important matters that had to be handled for the moment.

"

"

"I don't understand."

It's annoying."

." I cleared my throat loudly. "Am sorry.

"

I prepared myself for a long speech. I knew this was the time. This was the time when all those actors in those movies would talk incessantly until they knew that the judge had lost his patience and decided to rule the case in their favour.

My deep voice echoed through the silence.

I've spent some thousand rupees on it already and when you include the
transportation, the burnt pop-corn, the dripping ice-creams, those poisonous epsis and the disgusting tasteless crowd, and the torture I had to endure when some guy in the theatre shrieked, "Aamir, crying over your recent divorce?" when Aamir was in fact lamenting over something else in the movie, the cost crosses ten-thousand rupees. And I am from a middle-class family.

I can't be spending ten thousand rupees on the movie, you know. And if these guys get together soon and make another movie! You understand my condition, don't you?

And this guy, Mr. Rahman. He deserves the highest punishment of the lot.

The others, atleast, limit themselves to keeping me busy in the theatre. This guy keeps me busy while am at my residence too. All those songs.

Okay. I'll ask them a few questions to which I very well know that they shall not have any answers to. Why did they have to make such a movie when other people don't care to, don't bother to and don't want to?

Why do they have to make such a movie for an audience in which most people keep themselves occupied by talking about the recent divorce of the actor in the movie, by proclaiming loudly in crude language that the heroine in the movie had some boy-friend in real, by shouting out sacrilegious obscenities as Mr. Atul Kulkarni stands there reciting "Sarfaroshi ki tamanna ab hamaare dil mein hai-" and then, follow it up with loud, coarse laughter and whose only source of entertainment, which I made out from their silence, came when Madhavan was busy kissing the heroine? Why don't they realise the pulse of the audience and make movies accordingly?

Why do they demean their talents and their taste by giving the audience something they don't seem to want and they don't deserve? And anyway, skipping all those irrelevant people, my financial situation, your honour-" The judge glared. "-am sorry!

And yes, my financial situation has suffered a great deal owing to the ten times I've watched this movie. Isn't this robbery? Planned robbery?

Making me come over even though I know I shouldn't be doing it. Help me! Give them the highest punishment.

For ruining my financial situation. And more importantly, for letting out movies that the audience don't like and don't care for. And one more question.

When the other directors are busy xeroxing the frames of English movies to a 't', why are they trying to be original? Why don't they just appreciate the quality of those Indian movies and make such movies? Or better, try being original by making the hero run around the heroine without a sense of purpose in his life and finally, end the movie by showing that the hero has succeeded in his love while he doesn't move an inch forward in his career?

Of course, it makes for such a beautiful ending. The audience can satisfactorily assume that the heroine would probably work while the hero is busy setting up the bed for another perfectly romantic night. After all, the hero is in possession of a muscular body and rugged look.

What else might the heroine look for? I would not have considered initiating this case if atleast, they had cared to include the songs just for the heck of it! These people make a movie in which the songs are an integral part of the story-line and not like those separate ones the other directors pride themselves in shooting.

When the other directors say that the purpose of those songs is to give the audience some repose, some relaxation, why don't these people agree? Some repose. Some relaxation for the audience, they say.

Some rational being, rare as he maybe, would think that the audience has been subjected to some rigorous punishment and that's probably why our general lovable directors feel that songs, just for the heck of them, cannot be done away with. That's all I have to say for now. Am hoping that you consider all these valid points and rule the decision in my favor.

"

And the judgement follows."

Where are you going?"

"

With all our comments. Will all our reactions. With all the behaviour that only we can be expected to have.

"