Spectacular SPECTACULARS!
BOLLYWOOD- never was it Hollywood's 'poor cousin'...
By sixth grade I tested into a magnet school for the Sciences and Engineering. My new schedule placed my parents in an ackward position where child care was concerned. "Do we get a babysitter for someone who tested into a 6-12 magnet school? She's smart enough to stay home by herself." "But she's still a kid. Isn't that illegal?" was usually how the conversation went for my mother and father. After my father having to leave work all week early , only to discover my mother would not be able to keep her job AND do the same the following week, my mother began sneaking me in to her job for the last hour-and-a-half of her shift. Everyone noticed- including her supervisor- but I was well-behaved and knew my mother's verbageless cues to scamper away for a period of time to the lobby. My mother's job was to counsel young women who found themselves in desperate circumstances that forced them to utilize their legal right of 'choice'. It was a conflict when they made specific decisions and requests from my mother, as we were Catholic; but my mother never shirked her duties and remained professional, no matter what.
One of my mother's good friends at work was Dr. Patel. She was a stunning woman with long silky, slightly graying hair and the softest burnt sienna complexion (I know because she always greeted me with a hug and a cheek rub!). Dr. Patel's office became my permanent sanctuary after a few close calls with distraught young women in the lobby. This arrangement lasted all school year into the next. She and I would talk in-between her patients about school, her daughter who was close to my age and my love of sculpting, music and dance. "...and Monsieur Etien is so mean sometimes...I like Basha better!" Monsieur Etien was my ballet instructor and Basha was my bellydance instructor; I was using Dr. Patel's shoulder to cry on. "The reason you feel you like Basha's classes better, is because of the freedom she allows you to have there. Freedom of opinion, freedom of movement...that is why I like America a little better than my native country India. The freedoms women enjoy here..." We talked more of dance and when my mother came to collect me, Dr. Patel invited us to a screening of "Mughal-e-Azam" (1960) at the Cleveland Institute of Art's Cinematheque. "We can go to an early dinner and make an evening of it." My mother and I were excited by the prospect and agreed to meet Dr. Patel and her daughter at The Mad Greek, which was right up the hill from the CIA campus and my mother's favorite restaurant.
I could barely contain myself as my mother attempted to wrangle my thick long locks into a demure bun. "What will the movie be about?" I do not know M.~- hold still." "Dr. Patel said there will be beautiful music and singing- what songs will they sing?" "M.~ Mommy has never seen this film- hold still." "I want to take my sketch pad-" "M.~!" We arrived at the Mad Greek early and my mother spoke with one of the owners who had been good friends with her and my father for years. I danced around whimsically, touching the plants and re-examining the pictures I'd seen many times before. "Don't you look pretty!" I heard a familiar voice call out to me, I turned and saw Dr. Patel in a pale peach suit and a beautiful georgette dupatta (scarf) with silver beading and embroidery draped gracefully about her shoulders. Her daughter, Divya, was wearing a kurti and salwar set with a dupatta across one shoulder. We talked in very lively tones, Dr. Patel and Divya seeming to be newfound sisters to my mother and me. As we arrived at the Cinematheque, Divya- who'd begun to call me "Devi" because I am named for a goddess- whispered as she held my hand, "Devi, do you like love stories?" I thought carefully about this question for a few moments because I was quite the proper tomboy. "I am not sure...why?" "BeCAUSE..." Divya whispered a little louder, "...this is a love story from long ago and it is very sad. If you want to cry I have tissues in my purse." The thought was very sweet, but I did not recall any love story affecting me in that manner in the past and could not imagine one ever affecting me in that manner- these haughty thoughts I kept to myself.
As we watched the story unfold on screen, the colorized version was all that a 'living painting' could be. I felt myself gasp at sweeping vistas and costumes that I made mental notes of and drew and revised in my "fashion" journal from that point forward. The music was subtitled and the lyrics were true poetry. I have come to reference the perfect artistry of Bollywood films as 'Spectacular Spectaculars!' in recent years; this phrase stuck with me from the film "Moulin Rouge" (2001). It is the PERFECT explanation for the emotions during and after that everyone who has really viewed a Bollywood film is fortunate enough to experience. As the lights came up, and everyone was thrust back into Cleveland, Ohio from our dream world, I tapped Divya's forearm to get her attention. My creative desires and love of the Arts had overtaken me...I asked her for a tissue.
Bollywood and the other major cinematic hubs (Tamil - Kollywood, Telugu - Tollywood, as well as the industries in Bengali, Kannada, and Malayalam) constitute the broader Indian film industry. Bollywood is an influential part of popular culture, not only for India, but the rest of the Indian subcontinent. Bollywood has its largest diasporic audiences in the UK, Canada, and the US. Most Bollywood films would seem to be musicals, since few movies are made without at least one song-and-dance number. However, they do not fit easily in the "musical" category as defined by Hollywood and are better described as "Masala Movies" with their 'mixture' of action, dance/music, love triangles and comedy.
By sixth grade I tested into a magnet school for the Sciences and Engineering. My new schedule placed my parents in an ackward position where child care was concerned. "Do we get a babysitter for someone who tested into a 6-12 magnet school? She's smart enough to stay home by herself." "But she's still a kid. Isn't that illegal?" was usually how the conversation went for my mother and father. After my father having to leave work all week early , only to discover my mother would not be able to keep her job AND do the same the following week, my mother began sneaking me in to her job for the last hour-and-a-half of her shift. Everyone noticed- including her supervisor- but I was well-behaved and knew my mother's verbageless cues to scamper away for a period of time to the lobby. My mother's job was to counsel young women who found themselves in desperate circumstances that forced them to utilize their legal right of 'choice'. It was a conflict when they made specific decisions and requests from my mother, as we were Catholic; but my mother never shirked her duties and remained professional, no matter what.
One of my mother's good friends at work was Dr. Patel. She was a stunning woman with long silky, slightly graying hair and the softest burnt sienna complexion (I know because she always greeted me with a hug and a cheek rub!). Dr. Patel's office became my permanent sanctuary after a few close calls with distraught young women in the lobby. This arrangement lasted all school year into the next. She and I would talk in-between her patients about school, her daughter who was close to my age and my love of sculpting, music and dance. "...and Monsieur Etien is so mean sometimes...I like Basha better!" Monsieur Etien was my ballet instructor and Basha was my bellydance instructor; I was using Dr. Patel's shoulder to cry on. "The reason you feel you like Basha's classes better, is because of the freedom she allows you to have there. Freedom of opinion, freedom of movement...that is why I like America a little better than my native country India. The freedoms women enjoy here..." We talked more of dance and when my mother came to collect me, Dr. Patel invited us to a screening of "Mughal-e-Azam" (1960) at the Cleveland Institute of Art's Cinematheque. "We can go to an early dinner and make an evening of it." My mother and I were excited by the prospect and agreed to meet Dr. Patel and her daughter at The Mad Greek, which was right up the hill from the CIA campus and my mother's favorite restaurant.
I could barely contain myself as my mother attempted to wrangle my thick long locks into a demure bun. "What will the movie be about?" I do not know M.~- hold still." "Dr. Patel said there will be beautiful music and singing- what songs will they sing?" "M.~ Mommy has never seen this film- hold still." "I want to take my sketch pad-" "M.~!" We arrived at the Mad Greek early and my mother spoke with one of the owners who had been good friends with her and my father for years. I danced around whimsically, touching the plants and re-examining the pictures I'd seen many times before. "Don't you look pretty!" I heard a familiar voice call out to me, I turned and saw Dr. Patel in a pale peach suit and a beautiful georgette dupatta (scarf) with silver beading and embroidery draped gracefully about her shoulders. Her daughter, Divya, was wearing a kurti and salwar set with a dupatta across one shoulder. We talked in very lively tones, Dr. Patel and Divya seeming to be newfound sisters to my mother and me. As we arrived at the Cinematheque, Divya- who'd begun to call me "Devi" because I am named for a goddess- whispered as she held my hand, "Devi, do you like love stories?" I thought carefully about this question for a few moments because I was quite the proper tomboy. "I am not sure...why?" "BeCAUSE..." Divya whispered a little louder, "...this is a love story from long ago and it is very sad. If you want to cry I have tissues in my purse." The thought was very sweet, but I did not recall any love story affecting me in that manner in the past and could not imagine one ever affecting me in that manner- these haughty thoughts I kept to myself.
As we watched the story unfold on screen, the colorized version was all that a 'living painting' could be. I felt myself gasp at sweeping vistas and costumes that I made mental notes of and drew and revised in my "fashion" journal from that point forward. The music was subtitled and the lyrics were true poetry. I have come to reference the perfect artistry of Bollywood films as 'Spectacular Spectaculars!' in recent years; this phrase stuck with me from the film "Moulin Rouge" (2001). It is the PERFECT explanation for the emotions during and after that everyone who has really viewed a Bollywood film is fortunate enough to experience. As the lights came up, and everyone was thrust back into Cleveland, Ohio from our dream world, I tapped Divya's forearm to get her attention. My creative desires and love of the Arts had overtaken me...I asked her for a tissue.
Bollywood and the other major cinematic hubs (Tamil - Kollywood, Telugu - Tollywood, as well as the industries in Bengali, Kannada, and Malayalam) constitute the broader Indian film industry. Bollywood is an influential part of popular culture, not only for India, but the rest of the Indian subcontinent. Bollywood has its largest diasporic audiences in the UK, Canada, and the US. Most Bollywood films would seem to be musicals, since few movies are made without at least one song-and-dance number. However, they do not fit easily in the "musical" category as defined by Hollywood and are better described as "Masala Movies" with their 'mixture' of action, dance/music, love triangles and comedy.
Labels: Bollywood, family, Indian film family moments
posted by ScreenGoddessComplex at 12:30 PM
2 Comments:
Lovely story Tilley, beautifly written and hardly any big words ;> I could feel your mother's frustration trying to put your hiar into a bun. I have had to but many perfect buns into wiggily excited little girls heads. Now hurry up and come back to cyber space and tell me another one!
-Magia
make that Tillie
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