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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 thick skulls (who are still going: Huh? SSC?). So to escape the depression of tutions, schools and the Exams, I started skipped school and watching movies at the local theaters from 10 to 12 morning show and then the 12:30 to 3:30 show and then come back home. I had, finally, found the cure for my depression.

Inspite of the torture received at the hands of Bollywood. I would take the torture anytime, than be close to a depressive school environment. Perhaps those were also the first origins and clues to my undeniable liking to kinky sex. Maybe Bollywood had realized it before anyone else - those - I’ve had sex with - that I was suffer-ring from BDSM submissiveness. Relax. I did not masturbate in any of the theaters I went to. So if there is something white and sticky on the ass of your pants at Mayur, Sona, Jaya Talkies, Topiwala, Anupam and any other theater in Bombay… I assure you, it was not me.

The Torture Series continues…

Insaaf Main Karoonga (1985)
I’m positive it was raining. And I was there with my bag of notebooks (meant for class) standing there watching the big bad poster of IMK. Snow all around, Rajesh Khanna giving the tired but angry look in an army uniform looking at an angle, Om Shiv Puri in one corner while the heroines Tina Munim and Padmini Kolhapure in the other corner. I was in.

Rajesh Khanna was done and almost out of the Bollywood scene. Besides delivering the occasional Avatar, Fifty Fifty, Souten… he wasn’t seen doing or delivering much. He did do a few for the B.R. Chopra production house (Yash Chopra’s elder brother) and made a few (sad and pathetic) attempts to do a Jeetendra with the South Studios. But his time was long up. He failed to reinvent. He was done. Tired looks, nasty hairstyle and hanging desperately by his nails on the “stylized stylish over the top start stop start stop kind of acting” that was hanging on the cliff about to fall down, he refused to let go. And he fell down with it. It was tragic for our parents to see such a man, India’s first super star, fall in such a way. Only the journalist the late Devyani Chaubal, who wrote for a film gossips mag called Star & Style, supported him to the hilt. Even in his flops. According to Chaubal, in one of her snippets in those years, Khanna was one of the few in Bollywood who had class… for, on the Friday of any of his movie release, he would celebrate it on his rooftop by opening a bottle of champagne.

Champagne for what? Torturing us? For giving us shit movies?

Anyways the movie starts with Rajesh Khanna as an army officer somewhere in Srinagar, or some mountains in India that has snow. He marries an orphan (who else) Tina Munim. Om Shivpuri is Khanna’s boss and gets hard on seeing Munim. Look at the desperation. Because they are stationed deep in the hills, women are far and few in between so koi bhi chalegi… Anyways, like it usually happens in a few dozen odd movies seen before, Thurki Puri sends Khanna on a assignment. When Khanna leaves, Puri goes to the army canteen to buy a bottle of whiskey. He doesn’t buy condoms because AIDS is still unknown around in the army people and those in Bollywood in 1985. So Puri drinks the entire bottle, gets his required hardon. Pity putting that whole bottle of whiskey to such a tragic use. But then Viagara was still a decade and half away from being invented. So whiskey it was.

With a stomach full of whiskey, and a dick full of thurkey, Puri knocks on Tina Munim’s door for some tutti frutti. It is raining or snowing, lightening. Meaning the job more or less will be accomplished. And since in these situations heroines were supposed to be the dumbest of all creations of God (yes even your Lotta was supposed to be smarter), Munim opens the door, lets the Thurki Puri in. Gets raped while crying in her miserable voice “Nahin… bachao… mere pet main bachcha hain!“… unfortunately that makes Puri more horny, cause I guess he is kinky and likes doing it with pregnant women. So he does. As a last attempt Munim cries “Mujhe bhagwan ke liye chod do… “… doesn’t work… no not Puri’s dicky… but the cries pleading him. Maybe Puri had a hearing problem. When he heard chod do (leave me), he thought he heard chod do (fuck me) and he followed Munim’s instructions dutifully.

Unfortunately for Puri, one bottle of whiskey means one orgasm. So after that, he gets up and leaves. I’m sure for another bottle of whiskey. Unfortunately for him and all the thurkee front benchers sitting in that non A/C theater and having upgraded themselves to the Balcony area, their rubbing crotches playing dangerously all around me poor self…. the second attempt doesn’t come. Munim commits suicide.

Khanna returns. Does his expression of sadness and moves on.

Since a hero should not and cannot be without a heroine in those days. Enter Padmini Kolhapure.

Kahani mein twist. Kolhapure is Thurki Puri’s daughter.

Kahani mein another twist. Kolhapure falls in love with Khanna.

Parallel Story line: Joy Mukherjee. Joy Mukherjee? Yes the Joy Mukherjee. The lover boy chocolate hero of the 60s. He plays a slimy bastard who steals some kind of military secrets or weapons or army underwear to sell it to the enemy.

In those days, Pakistan, China others were not our enemy in the movies. The country that was our enemy was “Enemy”, “Desh ke Dushman”, “Seema par dushman”… It must have been a very difficult time for that country. Considering every country they shared their borders with, must have been considering them their enemy after watching Bollywood movies that claimed the country “Sarhad par Dushman” was the enemy.

Mukherjee had a great time in the 60s, but he flopped miserably and did hardly 5 - 7 movies in the 70s. IMK saw him on screen after a gap of 7 - 8 years.

It was only recently I realized that Joy Mukherjee had directed the Rajesh Khanna flick in 1977 called Chaila Babu. Perhaps Khanna was returning the favor. Now visualize the act of favor as - a sinking ship lending a helping hand to a sunk ship.

Anyways the Mukherjee track seems to end right at the beginning of the movie where Khanna catches, bashes and gets him transported to jail. Of course Mukherjee screams from the jail - holding two bars and screaming with his face stuck between two rubber jail bars - “Khanna main tujhe dekh loonga“… Based on this dialogue - I’ve always wondered if any statistician has done a literal count of how many people will be be seeing how many people in Bollywood movies. The numbers I truly believe will put to shame the people at Match.com who claim to be the biggest dating service online.

Needless to say, Mukherjee escapes from jail so he can get another round of bashing on his face at the tender hands of Khanna. But this happens in the climax…

Because we have to take care of Thurki Puri. Remember him?

Well well well… there is a new twist. There is a tape. Tape? Not a cello tape you idiot. A sound recording tape. You know that tape that we used to play in a box called a tape recorder player? Yes that tape. In case you haven’t seen a tape recorder or heard of a tape… what can I say… you are lucky.

So it seems, that before Thurki Puri knocked on the door of Munim to help releive his whiskey laden dick, Munim-ji was recording a tape for Khanna, announcing that “main tumhare bachche ki ma banne wali hoon”

THAT SOLVES THE MYSTERY!!!

Mystery as to why she mentioned to Puri during her vastra haran scene “Mere pet mein bachcha hain“… at that time I was confused enough and bold enough to ask loudly “KISKA?”

Mystery solved.

So while she was recording, Puri had knocked and she left the recorder running… (remember heroines are supposed to be dumb and hence do not know anything about energy and electricity conservation)… to open the doors to Puri and his whiskey dickey.

So the entire rape scene is recorded on tape. Khanna hears. Khanna flicks eyebrows. Khanna tightens jaw. RRRRRRRRRRREEEEVENGEEEEEEEEEEEEE

After much twisty twisters that would make your tortured soul jump from the balcony of the theater, we reach the climax where Khanna beats up Puri and beats up Mukherjee (we haven’t forgotten about him)… and walks away over the snow capped hills with Padmini Kolhapure in arm.

Guess it’s champagne time.

The movie was directed by Shibu Mitra who was, I sincerely believe, a member of Bollywood’s secret Public-ko-Torture-Karo Club (PKTK). By the looks of it everyone in Bollywood in those days seems to have belonged to the prestigious PKTK club. Out of the crap that Mitra directed (beginning with a movie called Bindiya aur Bandook), the only two I’ve enjoyed are Maa Kasam (cliched but Amjad Khan’s best comic role ever for which he won a Filmfare) and Aag Hi Aag (please don’t ask, there was a definite energy in this movie, that saved me from killing myself)

Oh you bratty bloggers boinking at every new Friday release, I’ve just started. I’m just warming up. For I have to take you down more than 20 years of torture to show you what crap actually means. If you are already shaking in your legs, puking or have already fallen unconscious, … brace yourselves… I’ve just begun…

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