The hubby and I have decided that we will let the kids watch some Hindi movies. This will help the Hindi, we think and one must after all allow desi culture to seep in. The Hindi is varied in it’s dialect , goes from Mumbaiya to Awadhi to Punjabi. The culture is questionable. But still we persist; the keyword being “some”. No violence, no gory stuff etc. The usual strictures apply. Of course then , we can’t show them the intense dramas (too boring and hard to understand). That leaves the lighter fluffier movies. And I mean FLUFFY. Still one can’t get too picky.

What we, actually I, haven’t contended with is the insatiable curiousity of the said kids. I, as Mom, am dispenser of information (all types of information). When they were younger I ingrained it into them, that ALL moms know EVERYTHING. As in, if you didn’t eat your lunch completely at school, I WILL know. The kids have taken the knowledge bit too literally now, and I hesitate to disillusion them and rob self of imagined omni-potence. Dad can get away from information-seeking-fests by seeming to be too engrossed or too asleep. Therefore when the questions come they come to me.

On screen, a Nirupa Roy look-alike weeps copious tears, again and again and again.

They : Why does she cry so much ?

Me : She is sad ?

I know why she cries. She’s spent her life doting on her kids, and has no life of her own. Kids leave, mommy cries. I’d like to cut off her supply of glycerine, and send her to college/kitty party.

On screen, Kareena swings her hips, as though wishing to disconnect the upper and lower halves of her body. She sings lustily.

They : Does she like singing ?

Me : I guess.

They : Does she like singing in the rain ? (it’s raining now, but Kareena is undaunted)

Me : Some people might like it. I don’t. She’ll catch a cold though for sure, and then she’ll have to go the Doctor and get some horrible injections.

You can tell I’m trying to be fair and just and present the pros and cons for their digestion. What I’d do to Kareena if I was her Mom is another matter.

Now, Kajol in Fanaa. I bet she froze in that snow in her churidaars. In other films, where I see heroines singing in chiffon sarees and strappy blouses, in below-zero temperatures, I am astounded at the director’s cold-heartedness (the hero is warmly clad of course). The kid’s wonder about the heroine being impoverished. Isn’t she cold ? I’m sure she is. Is she poor ? No. Doesn’t she have any more clothes ? She does. Can’t she buy a jacket ? She can. All logical questions, all deserving logical answers. I assure them that the woman is rolling in the stuff, but she’s wearing the chiffons because she likes them (or because the director wants her too – but then that might lead to questions about the director . . .). However, I also roll my eyes big-time – this is a signal that the chiffon-clad woman on-screen is also lacking in the brain department – wearing summer clothing in dire winter, will leave you frost-bitten, with runny noses and a very good chance of catching various awful diseases. And then guess where she’ll have to go ? Oh my God, No – the Doctor ? And she’ll have to stay in the hospital for a very L-O-N-G time.

More on the song and dance routine, which is an ubiquitous part of the Hindi film. I mean, the most “documentary” like film will spring an item number on you nowdays (take Mangal Pandey, as an example). I prepare myself for a barrage of questions.

They : Do you like that dance ?

Me : No.

They : Does she like being chased ? (The hero is in pursuit/serenading his lady love by being his eve-teasing best, mid-song)

Me : No, definitely not.

They : Why is she smiling then ?

Because she is demented. The director is nuts. Any girl of sound mind, would at the very least hail the nearest auto, heave-ho and leave the loser hero to dance by himself. How do I say that though ?

Me : Because she’s a foolish girl. She’s not using her brains. Her parents should ground her.

They (about the hero) : And what is he doing ?

He’s being an ass. Besides which the guy has two left feet.

Me (out loud) : He’s being silly and rude. His parents should ground him.

Then I resort to plan B. I pick up the remote and fast-forward.

This is hard stuff. One day, I tell myself, I will sit down and give them background in Hindi cinema – differentiate between the do’s and the let’s- not- attempt-this-at-home behaviors . I haven’t thought of the slippery, cultural slopes I’ll have to slide down then, but soon I’ll have to give it some thought.