Do you have a movie you’ve rewatched?
Maybe I should clarify that I mean a movie you have rewatched voluntarily.
Because I have some inadvertent entries that I had to sit through for circumstances out of my control. The movie that’s on the top of the list is there because of random afternoons when both my dad and I were home.
I’d walk into the living room to find him sitting on the lazy boy. He’d wave for me to sit down on the couch and I would, wondering if he wanted me to watch some Tamil comedy.
And then he would turn on Setmax so we could watch Baghban.
AGAIN?!
The mental gymnastics one has to do to believe that Salman Khan is the good child. Also note to parents who like that movie the surest way to guarantee you get the same treatment is to make your kids watch Baghban.
I have seen that movie more often than I have bumped into liberals in South Bangalore.
Weirdly enough, one of the movies I have seen multiple times voluntarily is also loosely about messed up parents, Talvar.
I like it for multiple reasons. As someone who failed criminal law multiple times, I have a weird obsession with police procedurals.
I also love Irrfan Khan. He plays an investigating officer who’s leading the investigation initially. But one of my favourite parts of the movie is a throwaway dialogue between him and his estranged wife, played by Tabu.
This storyline has very little to do with the plot but at some point in the midst of wrapping up their relationship he says the way he feels about their situation is captured by a song from the movie Ijaazat.
“Mera kuch saaman tere paas pada hai”
I was thinking of this line on my last few weeks in Bangalore.
Part of our goals for the trip besides soaking up the sun (check) and getting fat (benne on top check mama) was to pick up some of the stuff we had packed away to take back to Toronto. Stuff we had accumulated building a life together from Delhi to Ulsoor.
But also some of my childhood stuff from the old JP Nagar house that my parents had completely cleaned out.
A few things that I managed to unearth:
an orange truck circa 1993 that Amal began to play with
A collection of doodles from 2004 which can be used as evidence for the prophecy ‘will fail pre boards’
Prints from 2 film rolls shot across Bangalore and Mysore from 2008
A dell charger that’s too old for Leo Dicaprio to date
Multiple framed Polaroids of Mali and I which are very clearly pre baby/pre pandemic/pre-tty young and good looking.
All this packing was done during the day across my in laws and my parents place. And also their house on Mysore road which has not just ours but stuff it has collected of every person in the family once they wrapped up a house.
It drove home that we share a familial bond that spans generations aka hoarding. Also that individually and collectively our connection with Bangalore runs deep. More than 4 decades deep.
And yet, this trip was the first time ever that I really felt a bitter sweet ‘Mera kuch samaan’ moment with Bangalore. I found that our relationship had shifted ever so slightly. Enough that I had doubts over some things I may have glossed over in the years prior.
Why is there so much traffic at 11 am?
Why is it so hot?
Why is everything so expensive?’
Why does Rameshwaram put enough ghee on each dish to make older Darshinis seem like nutritionists serving you Quinoa Ragi modde.
Maybe it was because Mali and I were working nights while we were socializing during the day and were exhausted.
Or that a car less existence in Toronto has made us more aware of all the time we spent in traffic.
It could also be the amount of time I’ve lived here. I think that has taken my blinders off from my default view of Bangalore bestu. Toronto is the longest I’ve lived anywhere outside of Bangalore
It still clocks in at less than half the time I’ve lived in Nagarbhavi.
However, I seem to have passed these blinders on to Amal.
A 3rd gen Bengaluru herself, it’s clear from her vibes that she loves ‘banglow’ as she calls it.
Be it swimming class or going somewhere in an auto, she immediately perks up when she’s out in the city. She has been racking up visits to play gyms and playgrounds all over. Her jacket has been collecting lint while she runs through new chappals faster than a shoe rack outside a temple.
Her language has also flipped back to its roots.
One evening she asked me to give her milk that was “full warm”
“You mean hot milk kutti?”
“No, full warm”
Her enthusiasm was infectious to the point of me seriously considering changing my return dates so I could leave ten days later with her and Mali. When I said I can’t and asked if she would come with me earlier I got a
“see you in Toronto”
On my drive to the airport which was a rare night out on this trip, I felt the breeze on my face that had been elusive through these hot weeks. I felt that separation pang I always get when driving down the tree laden stretch near the stadium to the airport. The traffic also seemed to be behaving as a goodbye present.
I began to check in at the swanky new airport as I handed them my ticket
“Toronto sir?”
“Yes sir”
“Purpose of visit?”
“Going home sir”
“Oho”
A little while later after immigration and security I found myself on the plane for the first leg of my journey back. I put on the headphones and began to look for something to watch that would distract me from missing everyone as I flew solo.
“I wonder if they have Baghban”
P.S I got coverage for my second book in the Hindu, check out maadi.