Note – This blogpost is experimental. I update it periodically, and try to merge my changed thoughts with my old ones. That is why it seems to be bouncing all over the place.
I’ve been putting this post off for a long time, almost a year, in fact. This was supposed to be my review for Akshay Roy’s Meri Pyaari Bindu. But in the pre-writing thinking session that plagues all would-be writers, my thoughts ran wild enough that they couldn’t be restricted to a ‘critical appraisal of a film’. Meri Pyaari Bindu raises a very nice, profound question. ‘What new is there to say about love?’
To keep the reviewer in me happy, and my OCD contained, this post will have a very, very short review of the film.
It is nice, you should watch it.
Now, that that is out of the way, what new is there to say about love? What is it that makes love so desirable, yet inexpressible? Love is on everybody’s minds, it’s in the air, it’s in literature and right there in the box in my room that most people call a dustbin.
The reason this post took so much time to write is that when I first started it, it was to be a post that lauded love and lovers; and shouted, figuratively, from the rooftops that it stood imperative that everybody found a soulmate, stat. Then, ‘heartbreak’ happened; this turned into a denouncement of the Sacred Emotion and bemoaned the shittiness propagated by this relentless narrative of emotional fulfillment established by idiots.
Then, I got to where I am now, without an attachment in the world, not really caring about insipid feelings and their largely good side effects. I was right where I was before the #OhSoGreatHeartbreak2k17. No lady occupying my thoughts, no predilections towards narcotics and not really caring about things in general. Except Powerpuff Girls, how dare they introduce a new Powerpuff Girl?? #NotMyChemicalX
And now, having gone through the Three Stages of Almost Enlightenment(TM), with absolutely no intentions of studying and a Logic Design exam ahead of me, I stand staring at my computer screen, cursing the person who decided that in writing software, the cursor should incessantly blink, forever teasing writers about their lack of motivation in life.
Fuck you, blinking cursor.
I have found, that people consider love to be a very big deal. Consequently, they also consider heartbreak to be a very big deal. To quote a great veteran actor, “I think love has no meaning, you love your dog, your shoes and you love me? What rubbish!”
That was Jackie Shroff, by the way.
Let’s get into it, what is love? Is it just a more aggressive version of liking someone? Is it concept only found in sappy novels and Yash Chopra films? Nevermind, this particular definition has evaded many, a lot of whom had better sense than to read a blogpost by me.
I cannot quantify love, what I CAN quantify, though, is just how awesome people are at representing love. Call me an idiot, but I like clichés. I will forever defend them, there’s nothing wrong with telling a common story, (not necessarily) in uncommon ways.
So while you enjoy your dark, grimy, ‘realistic’ films, I’ll sit back with a bag of popcorn and Casablanca playing on my screens, even though I know that there’s no way that shit could happen in real life.
I do not believe in love, not by the most common definitions. When I was young, I used to abhor the idea of the perfect romance. Not because love was icky, simply because a perfect romance was unrealistic.
Now, grown up, love is an entity that I know not to exist in the form that the films suggest. So I want it.