After watching MNIK, I will admit, I want to watch this movie just for our darling Khan. Khhhh-aan, from the epiglottis.
It might be worthwhile to mention, for just a minute, the hoopla surrounding the release of the film, all thanks to the outspoken religious group in Maharashtra that threatened its release over a spat with SRK. The iron-clad determination of some Mumbai cinema-goers to trek all the way to Gujarati theatres to watch the film, should it not be released in Maharashtra, seems to have been all the fire needed by movie-goers elsewhere to go watch the movie in throngs. That, and everyone seems to love Khan to the utmost, and it's been a while since we watched him on the big screen. Aamir Khan comes in movies once in a blue moon too, but that took some getting used to as well. MNIK has been running houseful in most theatres worldwide, and has already landed the title of fastest Bollywood grosser overseas. Big game.
I can safely say that like many others, I went just to watch the only two people who epitomize Bollywood romance for me. Shah Rukh and Kajol. Quite frankly, I was disappointed in that department. Yes, I saw their camaraderie. Yes, their scenes were good. Not more, but good nonetheless. But it's been a mere hour since I saw the movie, and it's taking some effort to even recall their scenes.
I don't know if it was Khan pining over his Mandira from a distance that broke my reverie over their legendary pairing. When I think SRK-Kajol, I see Raj and Simran, Rahul and Anjali. In that marketplace where she laments, "suit-boot mein aaya kanhaiyaa band bajaane ko"(1), where he's trying to make her wear those dark, dark green glass bangles, bending forward and all too close as he asks, "chubh toh nahi raha?"(2). In the scene where he's having a trial run for a confession of love in front of his tomboy-ish best friend who's in love with him herself, or years later in the lovely Simla locales on a rainy night when he calls her sexy and then apologizes. And mostly, when dressed loosely in all-black with apparently wet hair, he spins this not-so-tomboyish girl dressed in red to music only they can hear.
My idea of romance has, well, evolved since I last saw them on screen as a couple. In fact, sometimes I get aggravated by mushy stories. Love's not always like this, and it's foolish to abandon what's real and no less beautiful for something Shah-Rukh and Kajol seem to have reserved especially for mush-hungry Indian girls! But I know that you can feel this way about someone. I know that if his raised fingers beat softly in mock-reference to a piano's keys, she'll hear it. My God, we'll hear it!
Kudos though, to Karan Johar for taking the risk of depicting a new take on the relationship between the SRK-Kajol pairing! He did handle their "special-needs" relationship with care, and maturity. Some scenes were astoundingly well-written, most very well-acted. Perhaps I'm used to the magic of Shah Rukh and Kajol from yesteryears, which is why the definite lack of physical proximity in their scenes was so hard for me to bear. The Shah Rukh and Kajol I grew up watching were totally unlike the present-day daredevil actors that talk about no qualms in enacting scenes covering a wide range of intimacy levels. But none of them makes the cut for depicting a real relationship for me. I fell for the friendship, I fell for the comfort, I fell for the understanding I saw oozing through their Raj and Simran, through all their Rahuls and Anjalis.
I have a vague feeling that their heydays as the reigning on-screen couple have already passed. And there, I feel a deep sense of loss. My parents have several contenders lined up from their generations, and they battle their favourites out in a ring. But my special Valentine, a tad too late perhaps, goes out to the SRK-Kajol pairing.
They gave me one solid advantage of turning teen in the nineties.
(1) Oh look, the modern-day casanova trots around in his foreign clothes
(2) It's not hurting, is it?
