Talking Talkies

It makes me mad when non-Indians watch the movies like City of Joy and think that Calcutta is only about poverty and oppression of poor and illiterates in the hands of people who are rich and baloneys like that. But something which I refuse to call a movie made me Squirm, Gnaw the remainder nails and cry out loud for heaven's sake, Get up and jump in white-hot rage in front of the computer, Remember the landlady and her warnings and come back and sit to watch, Rinse and Repeat. As it is, my gaydar has gone totally haywire after coming to Edmonton. People here simply have gone and fucked the gay dress-codes and stuff three times over. These days I pass women in the streets with coupla piercings in the lip and flat shoes and shorn hair and whatnots and every single time it takes me about three-quarters of a second to find the men tagging along. It's just so easy that I almost believed that Edmonton is after all a straight haven and then I met a bunch of ladies who I'd swear to have passed on as the straightest of them all and they are not! In any case, unless I see someone to be actually dancing to a Madonna number clad in rainbow silk underoos And I happen to be in possession of all my faculties, I refuse to believe that they are not the straightest ramrods around town. Okay enough venting. Now to more venting, actually.

If you ever come across a movie called When Kiran met Karen, my advice is to: a) Remember that a Cabbage is a Cabbage is a Punjabi, b) You have the right to be mildly but consciously racist if that saves your life, two hours and fucking peace of mind and hence c) Remind yourself why Punjabis are called "Cabbage" and ask d) Since when they became good at film-making and art in general, e) More so, since when they became experts to handle "lgbt-tinged" "desi-amru affair" "movies". Gosh I feel like putting every single word in quotes after spending those gut-wrenching two hours which almost gave me a brain aneurysm.  

Short story shorter: "famous" bollywood actress Kiran mouths uber brainless fucking answers to fuckitty-fucking shitty questions in a press-conference, loses her temper when someone asks (nice fella, I quite liked him) something about how come her suicide attempt failed or something in that vain, tells the press to go fuck their grandmothers, rushes out, starts arguing over a hailed cab with some random journalist woman named Karen and ultimately shares the ride, spends the night with her boyfriend in a west-end country house in NYC, boyfriend suggests an interview with the journalist woman who's supposedly well-known and leaves, interview leads to "a connection" between these women (sorry I can't help these quotes), Kiran cries after "sex", Karen leaves without saying bye (or Bi, suit yourself), boyfriend comes back, Kiran breaks up with him and leaves for hotel, much photo-burning and ring-throwing ensues, next morning newspaper headline says Bollywood Actress Busted with another Woman in Bed! Big Shensheshan!! Apparently journalist was hired by the BF to stage this whole thing to destroy Kiran's career which was coming between their immortal Luv! At this point I was choking. 

Frankly, everything said and done, whoever it was that thought that the woman casting for Kiran was fit to be called a "famous bollywood actress" had their eyes dipped in a bucket of shitload. I like my women pretty and don't give me duds, thank you. Why, I am better-looking than her which should tell you actually! On second thought, you guys better watch the movie. Why should I suffer alone?

P. S. : The director/cabbage has dedicated the atrocity to her mother. I don't know if she has been duly disowned after that.