I watched PK recently, and it has to be the finest performance yet by Aamir Khan’s ears. A satire on organised religion, PK raises the all-important question i.e. how long before theatres are attacked? As it turns out, not very long. In India, you could die waiting for water or electricity, but dammit, we have the best Dial-A-Mob service money can buy.
The only thing offensive about PK was that the popcorn cost me 300 bucks. But try explaining that to the gentlemen who vandalised theatres left, right and centre, apart from filing cases claiming that the film promotes enmity and hate speech.
It’s weird that people can take offense to Raju Hirani, who’s probably the sweetest, most inoffensive director around. He could take the darkest story and turn it into the cinematic equivalent of hot chocolate.
If Hirani had made Black Friday, it’d end in Munnabhai telling the terrorist – who’d be Parikshit Sahni’s wayward son – “Aye mamu yeh gun chhod na – ghoda chalaane ka hai toh race course pe jaa.” Then Munna would give the terrorist a warm jaadu ki jhappi. (Okay, so some part of that story may have actually happened.)
This is not to say that I don’t have faith. I’m deeply religious. I fast regularly, mostly between bedtime and breakfast. I try and humbly follow whatever is prescribed in the greatest Indian manuscript of all time, the Kama Sutra. I have travelled far and wide to attain enlightenment, and I have found god. He lives at the bottom of a chillum.
What I’ve really enjoyed about my religion is that for the longest time, my reaction to the morning news was not, “Oh FFS, stop doing that in my name. Now people will think I’m also crazy.” Nope, that was a problem for people from the religion known as Naam Leke Marna Hai Kya, But You Know Which One I’m Talking About.
But of late, that luxury seems to be slipping away. It’s also tedious to hear and refute the same ol’ arguments that nuts throw at you, but it must be done, so here we go:
That film/book/song/falooda hurt my religious sentiments
So? You might as well take to the streets to announce “Anarkali ka phone thha, ice-cream khaana bahut zaroori hai” because that’s how much sense it makes. If you don’t like something, don’t watch it. It’s like me hating karela, yet going to a buffet where everything is karela and then attacking vegetable vendors because I did not like the karela.
Who are you to say that god doesn’t exist?
Personally, I have no clue if god exists or not. But I admire your confidence. You’d be hard-pressed to explain how a fridge or an engine works, but you know exactly how the universe works. You should go tell that Hawking fellow to chill and stop thinking so much – your book has all the answers.
Why don’t you make fun of That Religion Which You Refuse To Name In This Column?
We do, but your bias prevents you from noticing it. But I agree that we tip-toe around it more than we tip-toe around other religions. Because we’re too afraid, too broke to afford bodyguards, and too irrelevant to be granted asylum in countries that do not kill you for having an opinion. But is that what you want to become? If you say you’re better, then prove it by not turning me into sheesh kabab every time I make a joke.
How dare you question something so personal?
This was a question raised in PK too. If so-called silly rituals and and faith offer someone hope, then who are we to question it? Fair enough, as long as it stays personal. If it spills out on the streets and holds us up, we get to question it. If it breeds ignorance and superstition, we get to question it. If it leads to violence, we get to stand atop a flaming pile of your storybooks and proclaim that your beliefs need to change. Even Whatsapp gets an upgrade every few months. Surely religion could do with one. But we won’t do it, because burning books is your thing and we wouldn’t want to steal your thunder.
See, there’s a reason PK had to be an alien. Because we’re not allowed to question the planet we live on. If that thought offends you, well, pray that people like me see the light. That always works.