My Everyday Tryst with the Rote: The Story of the Winner of Memorize-And-Throw-A-Name Contest

I still curse the moment when I had shared with this guy the fact that I was a film-freak. I hardly knew that I would have to bang my head against the wall for having declared this small obsession of mine. Just listen to the story and tell me whether you have had to deal with such a whitlow of a person who goes to the extent of maligning your otherwise healthy love for innocently simple Hindi movies! Since the day he discovered or rather I unfortunately let him discover my fascination for films, he has been bugging me to death by throwing apparently unpronounceable and perhaps even more difficult to spell out names of European directors who have hardly appealed to my sensibilities. Have you watched B—, or have you watched G—? (I spare you of the full names, for I’m not sure how to spell those). This guy who joined as my colleague is actually 11 years older than me, and yet my junior. Initially, when he used to throw such names with confidence, I used to feel visibly embarrassed, for my knowledge of films is seriously confined to our very own good old masala packages churned out from the Mumbai industry. However, when my irritation had gone to the extent of riveting my brains out, I sat down to think. If he was intellectually so high-class, why is it that he is junior to me in service in spite of his old-banyan-tree age? There has to be some “ghotala” (do not ask me to translate this term, for the sake of not losing out on the flavour of pure bitching) somewhere. I soon discovered through tests and trials (obviously of the subtle and intelligent kind), that this guy calls a film “good” or a director “worth watching” for the world thinks so. He scarcely has the brains to decide for himself which is which. My seriously deflated knowledge of films (based on what a Yash Chopra or a Karan Johar lovingly gifted us), seems quite inflated in volume when compared to his. Then, there was one more self-realization…almost like undergoing the self-anagnorisis that it was a “hamartia” on my part to have felt embarrassed at my ignorance of pardes-bred erudite directors! Hey, why should I feel embarrassed? Our films are in no way inferior to their films…and believe me, at the expense of sounding a bit erudite, let me tell you that our films are in their own way super postmodern narratives with layers of meanings, each meaning slipping out as you watch them for the second time, and thereafter! If that pleases the pseudo-intellectuals! But not that guy of my college…who still goes on raising my blood-pressure by throwing around worth-knowing names…when would he understand my several “No, no” nods? This tryst has now become a part of my college routine! Now, would you blame me for finding men mostly irritable and therefore avoidable? There are more stories to tell…just wait for the justification!!!