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Warning: Post contains strong language and sexual content.

Imagine, me entering my hitlerian Dad’s room. Imagine me asking for his permission to go out and see a movie called Bhavani Junction. Then imagine Pitashree’s right hand moving in slow motion, big tight palms connecting to my left cheek sending me flying out of his room in slo mo. Had that incident happened, I would never have dug deep into Bollywood films, never have the desire to blog and never would have reviewed any movie in my life.

All you new age Bollywood hating blogging punkers, just imagine that. HA! That incident never happened. I simply picked up my books to go to tution class and instead was standing in line to buy the ticket of Bhavani Junction at Mayur Cinema close to my house.

Now Mayur Cinema, and I’m not sure if it exists …

Warning: Strong Language and Sexual Content. It was 1985. Indira Gandhi had been assassinated about a year ago. I was consistently in a state of depression. No not because of the tragic demise of Mrs. Gandhi, but because of some kind of chemical locha in my head. Unfortunately Munnabhai had not yet come alive. He would 20 years later. That year, Sanjay Dutt had just returned from the US (I think) after his long haitus, getting himself treated in the US of A to get rid of his drug problem.

Producers were a little apprehensive, as Dutt sat at home twiddling his thumbs waiting for a project. And while he did that, I had realized that there was too much pressure on me. It was my 10th grade. SSC to be precise. The dreaded “Board exams” - to push it down the …

It’s out of control. Everyone is on the streets waving their laptops and desktops, furiously typing in their next blog to kick ass. Every Friday with every new movie. It’s as if all the frustrations and anger and whatever acid they pour in their morning cup of tea, coffee or brewery - all of it comes out in a yellowish to red puke form on the reviews of the latest movie.

I tell ya. It’s out of control. Bloggers? HA! My foot!!! What do these itsy bitsy tiny minnows know about bad movies? These post Gen X midgets who call themselves film fanatics… what do they know about bad movies and the horrendous torture? They can’t suffer more than 20 minutes into a movie and are writing their next blog over Old Monk and coke with spicy seeng-dana even before the movie inside has …

After years have we seen such a smashing, wonderful, gripping, movie to grace the silver screen. Guru Ghantal Varma (aka GGV) the director has definitely redeemed himself after such beautiful but badly rejected films like GGV ki Aag, NoShabd and Bekar Raj.

After finishing the 90 odd minutes of Contract on a DVD, oztrac walks out for a breather. And VOILA! Across the street is the great Guru Ghantal Varma in beach shorts and ganji (no not a bald woman, but a vest), walking in surf sandals, gracing the streets of Newport Beach, Orange County with Bimbo and BiggerBimbo on his either side, whom one may guess have been offered GGV’s next projects - Thook and Chikoo Raj. Unfortunately his proposed project GGV ki Paani has been temporarily shelved.

ozTrac is a bit apprehensive approaching GGV, knowing his slap and walk away kind of conversations he generally has with the general public …

Recently Sarkar Raj got released. Historically, the Hindi film-goers community were divided into the one’s who think Gunda is an epic and other’s who think Gunda is a larger than life classic. But now a new division has crept into the ranks. People are now divided on whether Sarkar Raj will be the last torture to inflicted by RGV and others who think that RGV’s worst is yet to come. To clear the air, PFC TV (People Featured in Colour TeleVision) cornered Ramu for an interview. If you’ve never heard of PFC TV don’t fret. The number of people who have heard of the said channel is less than or equal to the number of people who loved Jimmy. Here is the transcript of the interview:
PFC TV: To start off with, how did you get the idea of Sarkar Raj. What was the genesis …

Friday. Sarkar Raj has released. 6pm. Ozhan knocks on Wife’s door. Asks for permission to go to see the movie. Permission given on the condition that Ozhan takes his marriage dowry with him to the movie.

Ozhan without uttering a word accepts the instructions, walks to the dowry, picks it up and drives to Shitz8 @ Artersia, California, the only place he finds peace and the welcome darkness where he can cry over the torture he receives at the hands of his wife and his marriage dowry.

Marriage Dowry = Momar, a jet black cat, who can speak the human toungue in 14 languages. The bastard cat has also shaken up and shocked the world of science and animal kingdom. You see the average age of a cat is supposed to be 7 years. By fate or Ozhan’s real bad luck, Mr. Momar is now 27 years old and by the …