Three Thousand Stitches Read online

  I am a storyteller at heart, so it isn’t surprising that I fell in love with movies.

  When we were children, Bollywood was very different from what it is today. Most movies were in black and white. Then, there were Eastmancolor movies and black and white movies with some songs in colour, until finally, the move was made to colour feature films.

  Meena Kumari’s tragedies often brought tears to my eyes while Madhubala and Asha Parekh’s beautiful song sequences remain etched in my mind. I can’t let go of Sadhana and Waheeda Rahman’s effortless beauty, while Sanjeev Kumar’s powerful acting and Rajesh Khanna’s charisma will remain with my generation until we are gone.

  I have followed the evolution of Bollywood through the use of technology and also from simple innocent romances to the aggressive and bold portrayal of it today and from classical dances to the drill-team type of dances to breakdance and now, twerking.

  Movies were generally taboo in those days and considered a luxury in a village such as mine. We lived in Shiggaon without access to a movie theatre. Besides, there was no electricity in those days. But to our absolute delight, we did get touring talkies in the summer, which were tents set up specifically to screen movies. It was the Lord’s answer to our desperation! If we really wanted to see a film, we were accompanied by an adult and our chaperone would decide which movie we would watch. We could only see religious and inspiring movies such as Sri Krishna Tulabharam, Rama Vanavasa and Girija Kalyana. Occasionally, an exception was made and we were allowed to watch a children’s movie under adult supervision. We would then go and tell our friends about it. On the big day, my cousins and I would eat early and fill our stomachs so that we wouldn’t have to take a break during the movie. We would talk about the film for days on end after the screening. However, the movie-watching days were rare throughout the year.

  But nothing stays the same forever. Life changed and I came to the small city of Hubli for my education where there were plenty of movie theatres. And yet, the taboo remained—a teenage girl shouldn’t see romantic scenes. So while I happily saw them when I went with my friends, I had to listen to my aunt and close my eyes when I saw the same scenes with her or other senior members of the family.

  As the months went past, I became bolder. At the end of every exam season, a bunch of us girls would go together to the movies. We would lie to our families that we were going for a film like Dashavathara (about the ten avatars of Lord Vishnu) and go watch a film of the dreamy hero Rajendra Kumar. All of us had secret crushes on the heroes but we felt awkward sharing this with each other.

  When I made it to college, I became what must have been considered ‘really bold’. I told my parents, ‘I refuse to watch religious films. I have seen enough of them to last me a lifetime. Now, I want to see Rajesh Khanna’s movies.’

  I lived in a joint family and it was clear that the elders in the family felt astonished and perhaps a little embarrassed at my intensely transparent desire to watch a superstar’s movies, especially a hero known for his ridiculous good looks and charm and the ability to drive away all common sense from a girl’s mind.

  From that day on, my aunt kept a close watch on my grades. The slightest hint of a fall would earn me the comment, ‘It is no wonder that your marks are going down. The crappy romantic movies have distracted you and you are no longer able to focus as much as you should.’

  Poor Rajesh Khanna was often blamed for my cousins’ and my low marks. If only he had known!

  Later, I made my way to Bengaluru for my post-graduation. It was heaven! The area known as Majestic boasted of at least thirty movie theatres such as Sangam, Alankar, Kempe Gowda and Majestic, on either side of the road. I frequently managed to watch two movies in one trip.

  Once I was left to my own devices in the working ladies’ hostel in Pune, there was absolutely no one to stop me and my love for films grew by leaps and bounds. It grew to such an extent that I could study only when movie soundtracks were playing in the background. Many of the students made fun of me.

  One day, a few girls gathered at a friend’s home.

  Someone said to me, ‘Movies are a wonderful source of entertainment. But it is like eating dessert every day. It is not good for your health and you will start disliking it at some point.’

  ‘No way,’ I protested. ‘You can eat different desserts on different days and you’ll never reach a point of disliking it. It’s the same thing with movies.’

  ‘Easy to say. Not so easy to implement. Are you willing to see a movie every day?’

  ‘Of course I am.’ I had no doubt that I could.

  My friends were quite thrilled. ‘Well, then let’s bet on it. If you see 365 movies in 365 days, we will give you one hundred rupees and honour you as Miss Cinema.’

  I nodded, quite excited. Thus I began my filmi journey.

  Pune was a great city for watching movies. In those days, Nilayam Theatre would screen Raj Kapoor movies—a different one each day. There, I saw all his movies—from the earliest one to the most recent. Once that was done, I switched to the famous director–actor Guru Dutt and watched all his movies in Lakshmi Narayan Theatre. Boredom was nowhere in sight. Just when that was nearing its end, Prabhat Film Company, a pioneer in Marathi movies, began showing their films in Natraj Theatre, which was a stone’s throw from my hostel. Some of these were movies from before my time and were those my father had seen when he was a student. So I watched them too—Manoos, Kunku, Shejari and Ramshastri, among others. During the days movies were in short supply, I stocked up on English classics at Rahul 70 mm Theatre—Gone with the Wind, To Sir with Love, Come September, The Ten Commandments, films featuring Charlie Chaplin, Laurel and Hardy, and other silent movies with subtitles. Occasionally, Deccan Theatre screened Kannada movies too.

  At the end of the year, I had successfully watched 365 movies and became such an expert that I could rate any movie that my friends could think of. I even understood the fundamentals for a movie’s successful run. Necessary prerequisites consist of a tight story, good music, crisp conversation, excellent script and dialogues, fine acting by the lead roles, appropriate costumes, outstanding direction and careful editing. Then there was the matter of luck which remains undefined to this day. I have encountered films with excellent storylines that have turned out to be box-office flops. So while there is no exact formula for success, too much melodrama and a non-realistic storyline dooms a movie from the start.

  My deep interest in films took me to the next level—assessing the acting abilities of the heroes and the skills of the director. Thus I gradually turned into a movie pundit.

  Now I am unable to watch as many movies as I would like due to my schedule, yet, I prefer going to a movie theatre, rather than watching it at home.

  I also have an interest in visiting countries that aren’t considered popular tourist destinations. A few years ago, I added Iran, Poland, Cuba, the Bahamas, Uzbekistan and Iceland to the list. These less visited countries have many advantages. They are not crowded and have fewer hotel reservations. The flight tickets to these places can be obtained at a short notice and you have the freedom to walk about anywhere you choose. Out of these four countries, the Bahamas was the most exotic of them all, even as I was introduced to the other countries and their specialties—whether it be their markets, vegetables, customs, cuisine, fashion and much more. I enjoy going to farmers’ markets to sample the local goodies and always pick up something that I can carry around and eat.

  During my visit to Iran, I was utterly fascinated to see yesteryear’s Persia, especially since I was aware that we use almost 5000 Persian words in the local language of north Karnataka. The historical connection goes back to the days of the Adil Shahi dynasty. The official language in the court and the military was Persian. So it isn’t surprising that many words and nuances of Persian architecture were absorbed by the locals in their language and can still be viewed in Bijapur and Bidar in Karnataka.

  In the olden days, trade was an important part o