By Rohan Seth:
In the time of corporate bonded labour, targets, presentations, appraisals, Dabangs, Singhams, Happy New Years, love jihad, VHP and RSS feeds – I discovered the perfect albeit transient mode to zone out from insanity in the form of Sulemani Keeda.
Sulemani Keeda isn’t a movie; it’s a refreshing way of life. The kind we led before we became 9 to 5 jacks. It was simple.
Dulal and Mainak, the boys from Delhi, now living in the mecca of bollywood aspirants – Versova, are scriptwriters and traverse the roads of the film kingdom in Mumbai to get work. Except all they manage is to ambush a seemingly indifferent Amrita ‘Vivah’ Rao and obtain existential musings from Mahesh ‘Arth’ Bhatt. A string of uninteresting days transmogrify into a circus of obfuscated script briefs when they encounter Big Producer Sweety Kapoor’s Andrei Tarkovsky-fan boy son ‘Gonzo’, who has a cat called Fellini.
Plot aside, Sulemani Keeda is a collection of familiar experiences.
Poetry recital at a bar – a perfect place to socialize, the girl is borderline interested, makes conversation and now you’re invited to a house party at her place. Too familiar right? The shanty looks like the fluorescent shanty I’ve been to for a house party. The picturesque kitchen, the only get away from the music, is fertile for the most profound conversations.
The movie is about you and me. Two friends living together in a dishevelled apartment, peering through marijuana vapour and old monk, wanting to make it big in the big city. About procrastination. About choices. About slackerdom. About the beauty of bonding over slackerdom. There’s no real ambition; the characters in the movie mirror our generation; confused, aching for the larger life yet not really sure.
Oh and the Colaba song gets stuck in your ears and makes you fall in love with the ever populated city of Mumbai and its local trains all over again.
It’s the best movie of the year for me. Make sure you watch it.