He is gone. The only man who knew how long James Bond should kiss Monica Bellucci, the grand old guard of Indian culture and sensibilities, the defendor of our sanskar, is no longer at the helm of affairs at the Central Board of Film Certification (CBFC). Indeed, a sad day in the annals of Indian film history.
A few days ago, a recent release, starring the king of Bollywood, had the trollers occupied. Unable to put up with the torture masquerading as a film, a journalist walked out of the theatre even before the customary popcorn and Pepsi break. Being a responsible scribe, she took to the social media to warn unsuspecting cinegoers about the perils awaiting them if they decide to pay to watch what happened Jab Harry Met Sejal. Fans of the star who enters into everyone’s heart and dreams with outstretched arms, ensured that the journo’s timeline was flooded with abuses. There was another frustrated film-goer who requested External Affairs Minister and savior of those in distress Sushma Swaraj to save him from the ordeal of Harry meeting Sejal only to occupy some space in the news portals.
None of these would have ever happened had former CBFC chief Pahlaj Nihalani’s scissors done the talking and cut the movie short by exactly 2 hours and 24 minutes. But no, the advocates of freedom of speech and expression would have none of it. They made much noise when Nihalani decided to do away with a word or two of the film. And the result of these unwarranted protests in the name of artistic freedom is now for all to see.
With big scissors come big responsibility, and the more responsible you are, the more duty-bound you are to exercise your ability to nip, cut and trim to make films suitable for every maa, beti aur behan of this great nation. More than 45 cuts for Babumoshai Bandookbaaz, 27 for Lipstick Under My Burkha (which the censor board refused to certify in the first place because duh, the film is “women-centric” and showed women craving for things other than cooking and raising kids), 14 cuts for Indu Sarkar... the man sure knew how to responsibly swing his scissors to keep sanskar in tact.
You may not want to admit it, but Nihalani has always been famous—even much before he was anointed on January 19, 2015, with the power to chop and snip what he deemed as against our sanskar. His detractors might argue that Nihalani’s ascension owed much to his own admission a day after his appointment that Prime Minister Narendra Modi is his “action hero” (now, the man knows a thing or two about action heroes, for he was swooning over Ghayal Once Again, starring the owner of dhai kilo ka haath). Many who are misinformed may also claim that the recent substantial contribution that Nihalani made to the world of arts was the viral video Har Har Modi, Ghar Ghar Modi released ahead of the 2014 general elections. His fame, however, came in the form of the many blockbusters—one of them titled Aag Ka Gol and another First Love Letter—he produced in the 80s and 90s. The man knew his way around films and indeed, he deserves his chair. You can't take that away from him... no, you can't.
There was a time when our films excelled in symbolism that would have made auteurs in the likes of Ingmar Bergman or Andrei Tarkovsky green with envy. Our films had flower plays, nestling birds, tangled feet, messy beds and more; nothing had to be dumbed-down to the audience for them to understand what transpired under the sheets. Nihalani understood that nowadays, '.coms' leave precious little to the imagination of the millennials and others, and he yearned for the complex era of cinema when unsanskari things were conveyed through symbols. Would you blame him for wanting to take cinema back to the times when writers and directors had to rack their brains for inspiration to show what people do to make babies?
And what about the cuss words in movies. Can’t we do without them? Gabbar Singh didn't have to go on a 'Faizal Khan' mode when asking yeh haath humko de de Thakur. Shahenshah could very well have added a mother%$#d or b$%^d%^&d at the end of rishtey mein toh hum tumhare baap lagte hai. But neither of them did that and my man Nihalani knew this too well. The courts may have asked the censor board to “stop acting like a grandmother”, but responsible as he was, Nihalani wanted to do better than letting independent filmmakers have their way and introduce to the dictionary of gullible young Indians words that Vinay Katiyar dares not to use. Okay, occasionally Nihalani might also ban words like 'election', 'MP' or 'parliament', but who among us is always fair anyway!
Also, he did overlook innuendoes. He passed without cuts gems like tu bhi mera doodh pee sakte ho..thanda hain, tazza hain, malai se bhara hua hain or sab log pussy pussy keh rahe hain, koi ye nahi kehta ki pussy kaha ghusi (well, it was all about a cat). Way back in 1994 he gave lessons on how to roll innuendos like a rockstar. Andaz, a film produced by my main man Nihalani had a song that went about hence: 'khada hai khada hai khada hai khada hai...khol khol khol darwaja khol'. Maybe, it’s my dirty mind, maybe not, but the song wasn’t just about opening a harmless darwaja. Nihalani, folks, was more liberal and lenient than we all were led to believe.
Bring him back, I say!
(The article is a work of satire)
