Desi means being able to watch a full sunrise amidst chaos on the streets on a beautiful morning on the bicycle, it means walking on the road with a constant fear of being mowed down by the push cart or the cycle rickshaw (and the thrill also of being able to achieve the feat, unscathed!) it means playing cricket with friends on a hot summer’s afternoon with the “goli soda bandi” waiting at the edge of the ground, ready to un “POP” a cool little drink for the parched throat, it means outrunning each other in the compound of the house barefooted and enjoying the feeling of resting those sore feet in water in the evening, it means resting your chin on the wide cemented window and gazing at the bicycles, scooters, cars and people going about - some slow, measured walkers – some leisurely “tilted to one side” cyclists- the occasional “silencer-less” wannabe street racer and the royal Nawabi “potbellied” driver- cum- owner of the longish Standard 2000, it means lying down on the warm cement terrace, bathed during the day in the sunshine, with feet deliberately sticking out on the ground with the rest of the body on the charpoy, gazing at the dark and beautifully lit night sky with gay abandon, it means walking to the movie hall in the next street – excited at the prospect of watching a brand new movie that will usher in new hope , a new trend, a new wave and, most importantly, another reason to not study!
…and then the movie begins. 5 minutes into the movie, (I loved the “in-your-face camera” angles especially in the car in some place called New York and sat up with some interest!) cut to Delhi --- the narrow cemented lanes and the high roofs with large glass ventilators on top – reminding me of a “close-to-heart childhood memories” locality called Vittalwadi in Hyderabad. The uneven terraces – with a high terrace, an intermediate terrace and a low terrace – representing, typically, the hall, the dining room and the bedroom of a single house and the not-to-miss “pathang egirese” (telugu slang for kite flying!) competitions with ur challengers clearly in sight and their manja colors a pure give away! (was only a backroom boy who held the charkha for the pros to execute the combat strategy) and very frequent howls of “kaaaaaate” to signal the end for some and new found confidence for others (and also awakening from slumber for some others!).
But all of these visuals mean nothing without a story – a story of a brother, a friend, a sister, a cousin or at least a foe (the pathang flier on the other terrace!). The desi feel is never complete without a feeling of attachment. There is no point having a 21st century adaptation of the 20th century desi which is a little too fast to digest
“Elaborate Story-telling is still a virtue”
