The futility of recommendations

      Image of fans watching DDLJ at Maratha Mandir by the legendary Danish Siddiqui  

My daughter has ‘discovered’ Hindi cinema with 83. A rousing sports victory, memorable characters and an episodic narrative are perfect ingredients for a Gen Alpha kid to love a film and she has lapped it up. This has come after a lot of sneering and eye-rolling at Hindi cinema (Yeah, Amar Akbar Anthony just didn’t work. Sigh.) but she has now professed her desire to watch a lot of Hindi films during her summer break.

My wife – who is not beyond sneering at some Hindi films herself – immediately took to social media and asked for recommendations for what-to-make-a-11-year-old-watch-that-won’t-turn-her-away-from-Hindi-cinema-forever. A lot of suggestions poured in immediately. Some smartass ones also (which were all from my friends. Sigh.) The usual suspects – 3 Idiots, Taare Zameen Par, DDLJ, Gol Maal, Chupke Chupke, Jo Jeeta Wohi Sikandar, Lagaan – came in. Someone also said Masoom, which is absolutely the LAST film you should show kids.

Of course, all the suggested films are terrific but there is one fatal flaw… they are what adults think kids would like. And as we all know, “Man can do what he wills. But he can’t will what he wills.” Who falls in love with what (and why) is a problem beyond human comprehension and no amount of orchestrated nudging can achieve something like that. You can’t will yourself towards an emotion. You just can’t.

One of my earliest memories of Hindi cinema is Aradhana. Zero fights. Maudlin storyline. Seven songs. No comedy. It was the exact opposite of what a six-year-old seeks in a movie. Except that I was hooked. I didn’t even realise then how much I loved the film and sat through it. It was – as they say – the beginning of a beautiful friendship. And I quite liked Armaan too. (Bonus points if you get the connection.)

When I think of my early movie watching, the curated/recommended ones formed only a small part of the total. Charlie Chaplin, Hirak Rajar Deshe, Superman, ET the Extra-Terrestrial and a few others of the same genre. Otherwise, it was a train wreck in which films came thick and fast with no parameter to filter them. I remember my entire class going gaga over Born Free while I was delirious with joy watching Haathi Mere Saathi.

While some of them were still child-friendly* but I remember watching Jeetendra in Mehndi Rang Layegi (does anybody remember this film?) or Rishi Kapoor-Padmini Kolhapure in Prem Rog, neither quite suitable for a sub-10-year-old audience. Forget the suitability, they weren’t good films either. (Fans of Raj Kapoor, don’t kill me. Please.)  Thanks to reasonably cool parents, I just lapped up whatever passed by me and – as is evident – what didn’t kill me, made me stronger.

My love for Hindi cinema isn’t because of the good films but despite the bad ones. Victoria No. 203 is not a classic, but it entertained me as thoroughly as Anand made me cry. Somehow, Amitabh Bachchan’s Toofan became as memorable for me as Deewaar. Anil Kapoor was as memorably cringey in Benaam Badshah as he was brilliant in Tezaab. (Some might say Woh 7 Din but I don’t want to be friends with them.)

I think I won’t give her any suggestions. Let her watch Student of the Year and cringe. Let her watch Ram Gopal Verma ki Aag and puke. Let her watch Thugs of Hindostan and rue the fall of the great Rancho! Hell, let her watch Disco Dancer and not realise the divinity of Mithun. Let her completely turn away from Hindi cinema and become a sneering globalised Gen Z brat, who makes fun of Bollywood.

Then one day, she will see Masaan for some college elective. Some crazy friend will make her watch Luck by Chance. Maybe a TV rerun of Sholay. And she will come back to me slack-jawed. And say that she can’t believe that we had the DVDs of those films all along while she was watching Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. for the seventeenth time. Then I will smile. And we will watch Andaz Apna Apna together. Inshallah.