I must tell you guys, not everything that plays on the big screen is a movie. Neither does every piece (of shit, or otherwise) written about movies qualifies as a review. This isn’t a review for your information, this is a true story of a husband, who is victim of his wife, and he was planning to avenge in the most horrible way.
The way I used on my wife to avenge for what she had done with me for last 10 years gave her migraine. I had squared the account, but in the middle I started feeling pity, it was too much. I won’t document this anywhere, let the future generation be unknown of this kind of execution, I don’t want them to hate us, condemn us for inventing this kind of torturous trick to execute one.
On Valentine’s Day, I took Shy to watch a latest power-packed multi starrer movie MSG.
You would like to know how I survived this film that lasts 197 minutes, including interval— starring almost in every scene a shiny rainbow warrior with a toothy grin determined to show off his hairy arms with Afro curls, while he changes clothes at a rate exceeding Narendra Modi.
To use popular journalese, Gurmeet Ram Rahim Singh Insan is a ‘self-styled’ god-man, as if there can be any other kinds; although in 1990 he was personally chosen by his predecessor to head Dera Sacha Sauda, a socio-spiritual organisation.
What instantly separates the cuddly, controversial Ram Rahimji, or “Papaji”, from other god-men is that he dresses like ‘the artiste formerly known as Prince’ gone wrong, although he mostly plays rap and hip-hop before massive crowds. That is, when he’s not playing a sport he’s introduced to the world called Gul-Stick— a version of ‘gilli danda’. These matches pack stadiums too
Dera Sacha Sauda, as Papaji and others in the film repeatedly inform us, has 5 crore followers. That’s about twice Punjab’s population. You can see how much fun the bhakts seem to have—about 5 percent have been cast as extras. While sitting inside the cinema, which is basically a makeshift temple, you don’t care. I could see how Shy was tossing on her seat.
She must be only surprised by the world’s most agonising execution, your inner self wonders that how a man can do this with his own race. Before this technique, Lingchi used to be most torturous way to execute those having done extremely heinous crime, in China.
For GRRS (Gurmeet Ram Rahim Singh) it must be an ad campaign for all the good work done by one God-man— blood donation camps, rehabilitation of prostitutes, civic cleanliness drives etc. A hot firangi film maker (remember RDB..) assisted by two of Papaji’s lovely daughters, seems to be making a film on him, which explains the neat documentation of his work. Of course that’s not the plot of this film.
The story, if you must know, is that one of the hotties is a suicide bomber. We don’t know which one. Who would want to kill Papa the great? Oh, you’ll be surprised— pretty much all the drug cartels across the world. He’s the reason 5 crore people are drug-free. They don’t drink either. They just get high on life around Papaji instead. This is not good. There is also a murderous Hulk type gora hit man on the prowl.
Still, please, who can kill Papaji for God’s sake? He has the power to cure AIDS. The fumes forming in the air when his followers recite chants has mystical qualities of its own. He can flatten a bunch of terrorists by running his lips over a mouth organ. But oh no, he goes for a toss when his bicycle’s brakes stop working. So he’s only half a mythical super-hero. He’s also half human. And I’ll tell you what his greatest super-power is: He can make this film. Which can blow your head off. You stagger out of the theatre. The bling from the screen makes it hard for your eyes to adjust to normal light. His tracks ‘Never ever’ and ‘Drug ki doli’ pound your ears.
Maybe if you try hard enough, you can taste the ‘ruhaani jaam’ he serves to cure people of their love for booze.
And then gradually, very gradually, you begin to regain your senses, feel normal somehow. The film leaves your body, and you’re free again.
I removed my earplugs and saw next to my seat, Shy was unconscious, her long hair was disturbed as if she had tried to tear off her skull by pulling her hair. SHY is in coma, admitted in G.B. Pant Hospital.
…shabab khan’s blog
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