Monday, 26 October 2009

I Earn Abundantly But The Earnings Go Under

Read other ARTICLES by the author to find out why he is banned on Chowq's front page


I dedicate this comedy song to the loveless memory of misguided feminists, thankless wives, wife-beaters, and bread-winning husbands who are terrorized by their fashionable obese wives.

The male plaintiff is actor-singer-writer-director-comedian Kishore Kumar who starred in many gems from the 50s and 60s, and who also married the devastatingly beautiful Madhubala. Comedians win in the end.

The man was a born singer who, according to his wife (actress Leena Chandavarker, this time), listened to K.L Sehgal records exclusively.

From the stylish wardrobe, to the funny lyrics, the slapstick comedy, right down to the direction and the set, everything about this song is hilarious. One evening when I was searching for a particular video on the YouTube, I ran into this one, and the moment I heard it, I was ROTFL: rolling on the floor laughing. I found the song so unbelievably funny that when I played it for my male friends at an Iftar dinner, they too went ROTFL. How true are the lyrics even in this age? In short, the human condition stays the same whether we wear shalwar-qamees or a pinstriped suit.

At 00:45, notice Kishore’s funny sideways movement, leading his wife to her over-filled cupboard, followed by the Qawwali style taunts about the dozens of Saris she has in her possession. Then comes the hilarious equation of Diwali (a Hindu festival) with ‘divala’ (bankruptcy)—clever indeed!

At 01:13, he reminds her of his pennilessness while she wastes the earnings on expensive perfumes. How he mimics the sound effect of sprays is realistic because many women do go into the overkill mode with perfumes as if attempting to hide their body odour. Even the body odour bit is taken care of by Kishore when he makes a face while in close proximity to his wife.

At 01:34, the wife strikes back, counter-taunting Kishore for not using public transport but rather hiring expensive taxis, going to the movies, and blowing the money on hotel bills while treating his friends to lavish dinners. What a man spends on himself or his friends has always remained a huge problem for some wives. Kishore’s retort, ‘Let them (buses) run; so what?’ in an aggressive style is stuff that all lions who turn into mice when facing their questioning wives can take as guidance for achieving marital bliss if not Nirvana.

At 02:10, Kishore launches his donkey-like rear kick, and smashes the tray on the floor—watch the scared cook run off here!

At 02:30, he taunts her of the inadequate skills in the kitchen and the way she wastes time wearing her silk Saris. The vocal spin on the word’ Sari; is phenomenal—Kishore turns it into an Indian Raag!

At 02:51, his taunts turn into baby talk, and he mimics the way she walks wearing silk Saris—terrific acting!

At 03:08, the wife makes a face that most victimized men will instantly recognise—that of fake anger at whatever the husband does.

At 03:20, Kishore plays the Tabla with his mouth, something that I had previously heard only the Pakistani slapstick comedian Rangeela do.

At 03:33, Kishore relapses into being a Bengali (which he was anyway by birth) and the retort sounds wonderful because he appears to answer his wife’s complaint in understandable Urdu with a Bengali reply.

At 03:40, she attempts to get equal by mimicking the way he walks with his cigarette in hand. All Kishore does is laugh off the cheap imitation in a very laughable manner.

The lightweight argument ends with both of them having tea—but not before Kishore has had one last go at acting like a chanting Hindu priest.

So enjoy Kishore’s mannerisms, his making of faces, the kicks, the sound effects, and the vocal gymnastics. And do not forget to tell me what you think of this song.

Now I must dutifully return to the dining table for the evening tea.


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