Of Sunday Afternoons and K3G
Heart: K3G is coming on TV.
Head: It comes on TV every Sunday. Big deal.
Heart: ShahRukh looks beautiful.
Head: Have you seen how he looks now?
Heart: Well, he is 13 years older than he was then.
Head: This is too melodramatic. Can you not do this to me?
Heart: I wish I could watch Yaadein too.
*makes body get up, collapse on the bed and snore*
There’s something about K3G that is irresistible. It’s not my favourite SRK movie, hell, it’s not even my favourite bad film, but I watch it whenever I can. And even people smarter and better than me do, so there’s no need to shake the head and pretend to be disgusted. And it makes me feel that life’s ok for a little while.
It’s a little heartbreaking too. The same scenes that would make an 8 year old me snivel simply make me laugh now. Or squirm as I remember the child who I once was. A little bit of me laughs at my mom’s resigned expression as I mouth dialogues a good five minutes before they happen on screen, but my head mentally calculates all the books I could have read in this time and causes a sharp, searing pain to go through my body.
I wake up, only to watch the IPL final…during which, funnily enough, my head and heart have the same conversation. You’d think the brain would learn by now. But then, it’s nothing if not stubborn.
I roll my eyes, and pretend to be horrified at the absurdities and extravagances of IPL, and try to prevent the impending heart-attack. Watching cricket was never good for health.
I curl up on the sofa and count my pretences.
Why anyone talks to me, a question asked by my snobbish law-school-going friend, remains unanswered.
