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Thank
you Cannes, you've helped Bombay discover that it has streetchildren.
A film-maker, off-beat, female, NRI, living in New York but still ripening
her career on raw Indian themes would by itself comprise the son of combination
that the city finds as irresistible as pizza with pau-bhaji topping. But
key-in ten 'international awards' and you have a mix that instantly puts
into turbo mode the penthouse notion of social conscience: all social
Bombay has had nothing else on its mind ever since Salaam Bombay!
was premiered hem recently.
True,
they had been dabbled in earlier by the khadi-and-Kolhapuri chappal brigade,
but now, thanks to the global salutes, these street kids have soared far
beyond the realms of homespun social worker and into the big league of
the cause with the designer label. They have now taken their place among
the yuppies of do- gooderism, in the anointed company of the likes of.
say, 'save the ozone layer' or 'release Nelson Mandela.' Thus, there is
palpable embarrassment every time someone lapses into the old conditioned
reflex, and barks, 'take your grubby paws off my car', when a tattered
urchin rushes up at a red signal to polish the windscreen. 'Watch it,'
cries the horrified chorus from the back seat, 'You could be talking to
the next academy award winner.' Since, thanks to Mira Nair, Bombay Hindi
is now no longer down-market film and has become cinematique, college-kids
are brushingup on alley slang. Bundal mat maro instead of don't give lapet
is the new put-down when someone tries to pull a fast one. Ghadya chic
has come into its own. Reportedly, it is only a matter of time before
the standard coffee shop greeting, the nasally whined, haaai is substituted
with 'hello, mister, how do you do?', pronounced as crudely as co-ed accents
can manage. The new line is from the old Geeta Dutt number revived in
the film and jived to by Ms. Nair and her 'location' cast at the premiere,
and Bombay's hip young would happily descend to do a similar dance to
it as well if only they could get the music on compact disc. Truly, no
one can dare charge the trendies with not identifying with those on the
other side of the dream sequence. They never fail to get totally into
the cause they have made their own for the moment. See, aren't they, all
into the vests emblazoned with Salaam Bombay! that the ghetto gang
was uniformed in on opening, night? Let no one accuse Bombayites of not
demanding a commitment that fits them to a 'T'. Or, at least, to a T-shirt.
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