Its not at all like a Monday morning. It’s almost 7:00 in the morning and I’m kind of half awake. Something mysteriously wrong with my stomach is not letting my sleep to be sound. Not that I made my best attempts to make it sound either. Rather, to lend the mysterious ailment a helping hand, I made myself watch a movie. A movie pending on the not-to-be-missed list for a long while now – Hazaaron Khwaishen Aisi.
BTW there is an equally mysterious creature standing or rather limping besides me. He just now gazed at the monitor and in utterly disgusted (and half asleep) fashion uttered – “what the hell is Zarquon”. And with an equally disgusted tone, I corrected “What nahi WHO the hell is Zarquon”.
Sorry for the digression, it was Mritunjai. Never mind.
We’re talking about Hazaaron Khwaishen Aisi. Ya… Everything about it was amazing. But I can not write a review. After a long time a movie had managed to affect me. No I don’t want to spoil it by writing a review. I’ll just mention what all it managed to affect me with. Everything that in any manner portrays the Delhi of the 70s affects me. I’ve heard the stories of how it used to be in Delhi in those days of Emergency from both of my parents. My parents were (then newly wed) living on the then outskirts of Delhi – Hauj Khas. And took the 26 no. bus to the Regal at CP (oh sorry the then CP 
) to watch movies. The movie sort of gave images to what I just happened to know. BTW its not the first movie to give that vivid images of Delhi of the 70s. Chasm-e-baddoor was another one.
I may be sounding a jerk to not mention the theme of the movie and talk about this, probably unnoticed aspect of the movie. But then, somebody must notice the unnoticed. For the regular review I’ve given you the link above, haven’t I??
Another thing that affected me, was probably the fact that all characters were sort of doing there own stuff, and said dialogues in-between as if they were naturally speaking to one another. Unlike some other (offbeat) movies where u can distinctly observe people standing and talking to each other. Even the ones like Ijaazat and Zakhm and Arth and Ardhasatya misses this level of naturalness. Oh forget it!! I’ve started to write a review… comparing… even worse than that…
Oh BTW, I didn’t write the above stuff in one go. Mritun managed to pull me out for cup of tea at the stall outside the campus (I’m on the campus BTW). And on the way back it started raining, and that jerk made a strange remark…. “You know there is nothing else like rain”. Being half-asleep I agreed with him… and took some 20 seconds to remind myself that there is nothing else like anything else.
Okay… did you notices too much of “jerks” and “disgust” in my post… pardon me…I’m reading Joseph Heller nowdays. And I’m a bigger jerk than Mritun at times.
