Koffee with Karan over Fifty Shades of Grey

I was holding the wedding card of my ex-girlfriend. I was invited. She was seventh of my ex-girlfriends to be getting married. I have shamelessly attended all those weddings too; two of them out-station.

That’s it, I couldn’t take this anymore. I didn’t want to be good-luck-chuck anymore. I did the thing only a demented genius could do.

I disappeared.

I ditched my phone, didn’t inform anyone, took a bus & landed at Rishikesh. I entered an Ashram & have been living with mostly white folks for the past 9 weeks.

I woke up this Friday morning. I knew right-away my time here is up. I needed some beer-&-beef (I didn’t know about the you-gotta-be-fucking-kidding-me--eat-beef-to-go-prison-law yet) in me & I needed quick debauchery. I bought the newspaper & guess what ‘nothing had changed’.

This cuntry (that’s the correct spelling) hadn’t changed a tad in those 9 weeks of my hibernation. This shithole of a nation is still filled to the brim with mindfucked cunts. The headlines of the paper affirmed it.

“India blames Anushka’s presence for Kohli & India’s demise.”

Dear, Bhai & Behno: get your heads out of your asses, get a life & for lord’s sake, get laid.

Anyway, since morning I had this sickening craving to watch Fifty Shades of Grey. I can’t explain why, I just did. I think I even dreamt of being Mr. Grey.

I rushed to a PCO (they still exist in this part of the world) & called the only number I remember (and the only person who’ll bother to take my call). My accidental bff, Karan Johar. After the AIB video debate reached parliament, he has been hiding at his for-mating-only bungalow in GK1.

He told me the fifty shades got banned & never released in India. Too much fetish sex for our shaadi-bachcha crazy cuntry.

He propositioned ‘how about we watch the desi Fifty Shades of Grey.’ I was reluctant but what the heck, it wasn’t like I was getting laid anytime today so off we went to this old-style single screen theatre in the heart of Delhi.

Karan disguised as the usual (sardarji) & I looked the usual, super crap. The choice of theatre was deliberate considering the risqué theme of the film.

We ended up watching Hunterrr. I had seen the trailer. It was desperately sleazy. I was still to recover from the massive disappointment of watching eponymous ‘Mastram’ in Bombay last year.

Hunterrr is not the movie of the year. It isn’t trying to be. It is miles better than the superhits I haven’t had the courage to watch (Happy New Year, Kick, Bang Bang) & even the biggest hit ever PK.

Hunterrr is the story of Mandar & lots of girls. He loves having sex with different girls. But he isn’t a vulture, he’s a softie.

After playing the ground & seeing all his buddies getting married. Getting beaten & addressed as 'Uncle' in a bar, he goes down the beaten-to-death path of arranged marriage via shaadi websites.

He decides that he shall speak the truth & only the truth. It results in three below average chics rejecting him because he tells them he’s had multiple relationships. How sweet. How evolved.

He returns to his old ways & lies at his next meeting-a-girl-for-shaadi-date & she makes him her half-boyfriend. She tells him she isn’t doodh ki dhuli. It tempts Mandar to come clean but decides to hold off.

Mandar’s story is shown in flashback. He is one colourful character. Once he naturally starts getting attracted to girls in early teens he gradually understands the psych of girls/married women (named Savita). He follows the gold-old rule of hitting on the average chics & gets laid more often than Tiger Woods & Shane Warne, combined.

What I loved about the film were the real milfs, real situations, real kitchens, real autorickshaws & real people wearing sarojni clothes & speaking like human beings not movie stars who speak like they’ve got a diamond dick in their mouth.

What I liked was that not one person involved in the film was pretending to be larger than life. The only real intimate scene between Mandar & Jyotsna bhabhi was shot with élan & sensuality without the gimmicks of fancy lingerie & lighting and stolen Korean music by Pritam da.

The climax where Mandar comes clean & his half-girlfriend accepts his proposal for marriage is something people will be divided on. I felt even if it wasn’t original the treatment surely was. The film hit me in all the right places.

When I got up from my seat, my bums were numb from the non-cushioned seats but my heart was ticking like it did when I had seen KKHH seventeen years ago.

I could relate to Mandar as I’m somewhat like him barring hooking up with milfs named Savita. Does that mean arranged marriage websites are my near future. I think I’m having this unbearable craving for disappearing once more. But not before beef-&-beer and dancing like gorilla with some hot chics, courtesy my bff KJo.