Indian Cinema. Two good movies in two weeks. When was the last time that happened? When Tyrannosaurus Rex beat Triceratops in a mighty bloodbath much reminiscent of Pakistan’s ignominy down under? Or was it when India last won a hockey gold? In any case, it was a long time ago.

“Black” came up first. So much to learn. Superlative movie making. Nice! Its beautiful to see people actually wake up out of their slumbers – this guy’s last slumber cost a certain Mr. Jhamu Sughand a few xilodazamibillion rupees. Some period epic called Devdas. Yes, its forgotten. Coming back to the fractured slumbers, the period of wakefulness has given us “Black”. Wonderful to see movies being made without stupid red heart balloons, suggestively gyrating PYT’s (with minimal efforts required on the costume designer’s front) and 40-year old uncles without shirts or baniyans, swollen (shaven as well) chests and ballooning biceps (much like the aforementioned red hearts, only a different shade). Well you see, when someone makes a movie like “Black” he’s not worried about the percentage opening in Chandrapur, or the box office collections in Ghaziabad. He’s just interested in making a good movie, and that’s the way a good movie is made. Three cheers! (with goblets filled with 98-octane low sulphur petrol)

Then there’s “Page 3”. This Madhur guy is on a roll. He won’t make tones of money on this movie. He won’t even make new friends. But here is realistic cinema at its absolute zenith. Wonder if he was taking realism to new heights IF (or WHEN, as the case may be) he tried to bed that starlet from Delhi. May be he wanted to “live” the movie he was making, so he could succulently convey the feel of his message to the audience. But then again, it’s a wicked world after all, may be the female was lying through her nose (imagine what exotic elements would garnish the lies then). Who knows! Give us a product like Page 3 once a year, and everything’s forgotten.

Talking of Page 3, the thing that struck me the most is the ubiquitous autorikshaw (Hey don’t brand me insane as yet – I am a little different that’s it) Think of it. Isn’t it there everywhere, everytime, be it dawn, day, dusk and night. How many times has one been failed by one’s car, friend, girlfriend or such, loitering on the streets of Mumbai, without a place to go to, or clue of what to do next. And then it comes, rattling down the street on its three puny “scooter – wheels”, the road ahead basking in the golden glory of its solitary headlight. Few things in the world demonstrate “light at the end of a dark tunnel” better. This is it!

As a little kid (yes – I was little some time in my life), I was always flabbergasted with the way these black and yellow, stupid looking animals ran on three wheels. They always reminded me of a dog in urgent need of relieving himself, one leg up, but nowhere to go, running around like a maniac, desperately hunting for a place to expel the waste liquids out of his body. Then again, they always took you from point A to point B reasonably cheaply, (if you shared one, you could obliterate BEST bus fares to obscurity) the safety however was sure to raise more than a few things (I am talking of eyebrows, perverts) at the European Union’s council for road safety. (I hear they’re going berserk – more of that some other time)

They’re as much a part of Mumbai’s landscape as those pitiful shanties hanging by the skin of their teeth from the hills near Ghatkopar (At one time, it used to be a green and brown hill. Now the only thing green is the neighbour’s envy when you can squeeze out a kholi that’s 1.2964 square millimeters bigger than his. And the only thing brown is – well, the shit. No euphemisms). Not to forget, the boundless slums lining the runway that belongs to the International Airport. Welcome to Mumbai!

Ok, after the momentary digression, (which went a long way in alleviating my frustrations about the poor state of civic affairs) we return to the magnificently moronic autorikshaws. As a young kid, I had a habit of classifying autorikshaws and their venerable drivers. What results after 10 years of protracted research in the said field is an all-encompassing guide to Mumbai autovallahs, their whims, fancies, dreams and desires (ahem). Not to mention, foolproof ways to deal with all their multifaceted varieties.

More to follow!