Art Of Climaxing At The Interval Bang

Scene One: The Meeting Of Two Minds And Bodies But Slowly

The year is 2006. Time is half-past eleven. The place is Lamba theatre in Secunderabad. And the movie I am watching is titled ‘Ahista Ahista’ (which translates to ‘Slowly Slowly’), a nice poignant romantic drama starring Abhay Deol and Soha Ali Khan. The movie which had a limited release, which I later understood was actually written by Imtiaz Ali (based on the famous Fyodor Dostoevsky work, White Nights) was soon reaching its midpoint.

And once the time turned to twelve fifteen, the movie reel would shift to something which would portray a totally different meaning for ‘Ahista Ahista’. Mind you, I was in no mood for ‘Ahista Ahista’ in any sense whatsoever. It was more like ‘Jaldi Jaldi’ (which translates to, well you understood the joke right?). And neither were the sporadically seated men in my row. The movie which we had all come to see, was ‘Serpent’s Revenge’ or as it was called on the weekends, ‘Naagin ka Badla’, or as it was exhibited in Telugu interiors (without dialogues, because who cares?) ‘Punnami Naguu Kasepu Aagu’. Yup, I watched all of them. It was a multilingual picture after all, and the essence was never lost in either of the languages.

So, coming back to the viewing party, allow me to introduce you to my fellow companions, each man (or boy) were all seated leaving four seats between them. It was an unsaid rule. You had to leave that gap for many purposes. Again, if you were coming to the theatre with a female companion, then the rule was to leave seven seats between them so that they could enjoy their company in a wider spread-out manner. Before you go fancy, no these weren’t those cosy and rosy recliners we now see in PVRs and INOXs. The chairs to paint you a picture were ergonomically designed to make creaky sounds when you moved on them. You see, that would tell your neighbour who was four seats away that you are starting to truly enjoy the movie.

Scene Two: The Serpent Bows Up Her Prey

And so, the interval of ‘Ahista Ahista’ organically led into the titles of Serpent’s Revenge. Again no fancy 3D drop shadow things, but simple 2D text typed the name of the movie, and two small asterixes below, which said – starring Mandakini Kirona (as Nagin) and Suhal Seth (as Businessman). Yup, that was the character description. Simple. One was a Nagin, and one was a businessman. Who needs character names, character arches and all that nonsense? It’s almost as if the makers of the movie perfectly knew who was watching their movie. Talk about defining a demographic yo!

A Nagin meets a businessman, simple plot line. And because she’s a Nagin she’s supposed to seduce him. He falls in love with her and they have sex. You see that’s point everyone is waiting for. The titles lead to an opening shot which shows a white colour Premier Padmini driving through a secluded road in the midst of what looks like Ooty or Kodaikanal. Inside the Premier Padmini, a businessman is listening to the radio and bobbing his head to the beats. The song is describing the union of white feathered peacocks in the season of monsoon, under the neem tree. It almost feels like the lyricist, a nature lover apparently, wanted to become a poet, but ended up writing this as a freelance gig. Sad no?

Oh, by the way, we establish that he is a businessman, purely by his look. The gentleman in question is wearing rose-tinted glasses, and a floral print half sleeve shirt (to establish that he is on a vacation in Goa, I think, but it doesn’t look like Goa though), and every few seconds is lifting his collar and pulling it down, while whistling to the tune of the freelance poetry on the radio. It’s almost that his magnificent scent of a man feels the need to emanate out of the screen and reach the couple in the back row, who by now are about to finish their first round of lovemaking. They are in their own Sacred Games trip.

The third rule, while you are watching a porn movie on 70 mm, is, Never Look Back. Never ever look back and stare at the couple making out. It’s not ethical. You see, if you look back, the lady companion might mistake your glances for an invitation. And then you break the code of honour between men watching porn. So yeah, just keep hearing them moan and grunt, till you can sync those with the scenes online. The truest form of an interactive 4DX movie if you ask me.

Scene Three: A Woman Interrupted And The Man To Her Rescue

Now, where were we? Oh yes, Premier Padmini. So, the gentleman businessman turns a bend on the road and suddenly it’s raining and the weather has turned to a gentle hue of violet-black (freelance poetry you see). Yeah, continuity is for kids, the seductive climate is for legends. In this scenario, he crosses a woman, in a red sari, standing dazed and confused beside her car (I can’t really make out which car that is). The car in question is off white, its bonnet is up. The businessman stops the car beside her and rolls down his window and asks the red sari woman what the problem is. She says her car’s tires are punctured and she needs to reach Bombay in the morning, lest she might miss her job interview. And you thought writing was such an easy job huh? Try wrapping your head around these weird circumstances. We are just getting started.

The Good Samaritan Gentleman Businessman then offers her help. He says he is going to Bombay as it is and it won’t be much trouble to drop her. So now he has fucked up my assumption of mapping this movie. You see, I thought he was coming from Bombay. Now it seems he is going back to it, in a fucking vacation dress. Who goes to Bombay for a vacation? Anyway, logic has already been thrown under the bus, and once it was run over by the bus, its dead body has been burnt to ashes and thrown into the gutters under the Worli sea link.

The woman surprisingly is smart. She says as long as she can sit in the back seat he can help her. The man agrees, and thus they embark on their journey to, well, Bombay. But there was still one thing either of them forgot to take note of. Rains are rains. The rain’s job is to lash out on sex striven individuals. Anyway, as they are slowly braving their journey, the man, being the courteous individual that he is, starts his small talk.

He asks her as to where she is coming from (an obvious question really, given her fuck-all planning to reach Bombay), to which she replies “Main yahaan ki nahi hoon” ( I am not from here). What the fuck is that reply? Who talks like that? Tell me public, who talks like that. These are the people who get on Tinder and write in their bio – Not Looking for Hookups. Mental. And add to that, there is a melancholic soundtrack which drops as soon as she says that. And then this gentleman fellow asks another brilliant question to his backseat occupant. He asks her “Itni raat ko aap yahan kya kar rahi thi..?” (What were you doing at this time on this road). You’ve heard the word Misogyny na? This is the perfect example of it. To which she poetically replies – “Din ka intezaar?” (I was waiting for the morning). This lady has attained nirvana in childhood only, it seems.

Scene Four: The Couple Which Beats Together, Stays Together

Anyway, the gentleman nods in agreement as if he was also on the road waiting for the sunrise. But rains are rains. They will lash about and spoil your ideas and moral compass. And so, the lady in the backseat requests the man to stop somewhere so that they can resume after the rains have died down. She explains her reason by coming up with a random reason – “Iss baarish ki saza main jaanti hoon” (I know the punishment of rains… fuck I give up).

And then appears a motel. In the middle of a hill road with a river flowing under a valley of greenery and warped up weather, they find a motel. Pausing the movie there, I start observing my comrades. One of them on the corner seat of the row, right under the speaker has sunk deep into his seat. The muted moaning from the back has momentarily stopped, and in comes a batch of eunuchs from one of the exit doors. A group of three eunuchs scan the whole darkness as beyond them on the screen, Mandakini and Businessman have checked into a room. The eunuchs then see a hand from a row some seven rows in front of me. One of the eunuch scurries towards the hand. The two others sit down at the nearest seats and start munching the popcorn.

Back to our movie, Mandakini, the lady in the red sari realizes that there is only one bed in the room. Oyo karna tha right? The gentleman then offers to sleep on the ground. You see, chivalry is not dead. But rains are rains. They will lash. And thunder. So, there’s a studio rendered thunder sound which emanates across the window, and Mandakini says that he can sleep on the bed but will put pillows in between. And they lay down. Simple. She doesn’t change or dry herself. He doesn’t change or curses his life, dreams and ambitions. They just lay on the bed. The droplets of rain still dripping down her neck. His floral print shirt still spreading scented happiness. The camera stays on that, as the man puts his hand on the pillow between them. As fate and cliched writing would have it, Mandakini unassumingly places her hand on the same pillow and their fingers brush each other. My 4DX movie is about to start now. Then his pale drunken yellow eyes meet her tender nonchalant eyes.

She then says, “Aap bohot ache ho” (You are very nice). And then he swiftly removes his hand from the pillow and folds his hand. She basically Nice-Zoned him. Anyway, the night is long.

Scene Five: The Vision Of The Future Past And Climaxing

So, the camera then cuts back while whirling upon the eyelids of our nonchalant lady. We then see a dream sequence/flashback/both scene inside her mind. She is happy and there is another uncredited man holding her hand, as they wade, jump and roll through a park which solidly resembles Kune Falls of Lonavala. Mind you, the man she is courting has blue contact lenses worn on. He is her partner because she too is wearing blue contacts to compliment the ‘couple dressing swag’. Now, as they are dancing around the waterfalls, seemingly making love behind the stream of water, she hears a big roar coming from somewhere. She is visibly scared, and the man takes her away to a shabby looking hut. There they have sex. With the consent of the roaring animal, it seems.

After a few seconds, and yes seconds only, because she has orgasmed on his mere touch itself, they hear a hunter outside their hut. It is then that I realize that the timeline of this story is pre-colonization. It’s perhaps the Mauryan era when hunting animals was cool. And then the hunter literally plunges into the hut and shoots an arrow upon the blue-eyed male. He dies. Miss female blue eyes, Mandakini to be specific, is pissed-off to the core. She does nothing but stares violently at the hunter and curses him that she will kill him when the time comes. The hunter smirks and fucks off.

Cut to present, Mandakini opens her eyes and looks sideways at the snoring Bombay vacationer. She is thinking of how to approach him. But then rains are rains. They will lash. And they will thunder. A loud thunder scares the fuck out the grown ass man. He instinctively turns and hugs the woman. And then opens his eyes, as she puts her fingers on his lips. And then the tedious process of foreplay starts. Literally ‘Ahista Ahista’. In the theatre, I can hear the moans from multiple directions now. Dolby Atmos if you will. The foreplay goes on and on, and the fine lady is making the weirdest noises ever. She smiles suddenly and cries suddenly. And then they show what is behind the floral print shirt. The gentleman removes his shirt to show a necklace made of diamond, which ‘call back’ alert, is the same one her lover from the Mauryan era was wearing. So, we will have to assume that he was the hunter at this point.

And thus, proceeds a forty-minute-long process of making out, and foreplay before things start getting naked. At half past two, everyone is just syncing their expectations with that of the onscreen projections. She climaxes at an orgasmic high. And the rains turn into drizzle outside. The man is grunting and panting as he goes to the washroom. Spoiler alert, as he comes out the woman is holding a knife to his neck, as the end titles roll up. Thus, leaving the sixteen and seventeen-year-old kids, craving for more. Leaving them to fantasize whether they could ever meet their Mandakini.

The logic here is that – sex is more important than death itself. And as half the lights come up in the hall, and a whistle-blowing watchman starts hitting the chairs with his cane, waking up or shooing away “movie lovers”, the dreamy black eyes of an imaginative boy pray only one thing – Apna Time Aayega..!!