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Satnam ‘Sunny’ Sethi (Vikrant Massey) is an aspiring chef and restaurateur who is desperate to get married in order to meet his father Pappi Sethi’s (Rajiv Gupta) condition. The condition is that Sunny will get to open his own restaurant only after he gets married. Unfortunately, finding a bride is difficult for Sunny as he keeps getting rejected by prospective matches, for no apparent reason.

On the other hand, there is Simran ‘Ginny’ Juneja (Yami Gautam), who is also being pressured into getting married by her single mother Shobha Juneja (Ayesha Raza). But Ginny is still in a complicated relationship with her ex-boyfriend Nishant (Suhail Nayyar) who is now her best friend, and she will settle for no less than love marriage.

By chance, Ginny’s mother is also a wedding matchmaker and when Sunny’s father approaches her to find Sunny’s match, she thinks it is a good idea to get Sunny and Ginny hooked. So Sunny, with help from Ginny’s mother, plans to woo Ginny. The story then continues to create confusion and collisions in the lives of everyone involved, with humor, sarcasm and satire thrown into the mix.

The story of Ginny Weds Sunny is as predictable as a Bollywood romantic comedy can be. In fact, most dialogues and plot changes are also predictable. But the slight difference in this one is the execution. With a talented cast of actors and without superfluous larger-than-life sequences, the film directed by Puneet Khanna is a light-hearted rom-com you can watch while you wait for Season 2 of “Mirzapur.” (No, I don’t get paid to do this. Promoting anything with Pankaj Mishra in it is my self-appointed duty.)

Originally intended for theatrical release but postponed due to the Covid-19 pandemic, the film tries to emulate the success of a string of low-budget family movies that have recently done well in the box-office, the likes of “Subh Mangal Saavdhan” and “Bareilly Ki Burfi”. But the key advantage of originality is missing in this one and hence, Ginny Weds Sunny might not create a benchmark for upcoming films with its clichéd screenplay. Still, it does a better job of entertaining folks compared to many big-banner Bollywood releases that are unbearable to watch.

The cast in Ginny Weds Sunny is natural and instantly relatable. The characters are mostly from Punjabi families that speak in a mixed Punjabi-Hindi dialect without going overboard with stereotyping. Despite an unoriginal script, the entire cast performs its roles with earnestness, making the audience believe what they’re watching is something completely new. This is one of those movies where the whole cast executes a well-coordinated performance instead of banking on the main characters.

And when a movie has Punjabi wedding themes to it, there is bound to be some upbeat bhangra music. In this, the film is below average, with none of its soundtracks leaving a mark. The film does feature a rendition of the classic Punjabi song “Sawan Mein Lag Gayi Aag” written and composed by Mika Singh, which is still not one of the best remixes.

Who should watch it?

So the low-budget Ginny Weds Sunny fails you in some parts and wins you over in others. If you’re looking for some light entertainment without many expectations, this one is for you.

Rating: 2.5 stars

Genre: Romantic comedy

Director: Puneet Khanna

Cast: Yami Gautam, Vikrant Massey

Run time: 2hrs 5mins

My earliest memory of the “Bhagavad Gita” is a worn-from-use, spine-twisted, hardcover copy of the epic my grandmother kept on a dressing table—which would later go on to become a family heirloom. She was always quoting verses and it seemed no matter what we did, there was something in the Bhagavad Gita to either justify or condemn our actions.

My grandmother was forever thumbing through her much-revered copy. She would even run her hands over the words as she watched TV or talked to us. As a kid, I was fascinated by that particular slightly oily copy of the Bhagavad Gita that seemed to hold the universe’s secrets within its pages. Also, that it was a conversation between the avatar of Vishnu, Lord Krishna, and a prince named Arjuna had me wanting to know exactly who said what.

It was only years later, when I was in high school, that it occurred to me that my grandmother was using the Bhagavad Gita as an excuse to get us to behave how she saw fit. Afterall, how could she know for sure what was written in it when she couldn’t read? Everything she said was derived from someone else’s words, interpretations, or whatever she thought was right.

I used to tell my mother that I would one day read the entire epic, in Sanskrit, and thus be able to challenge my grandmother when she would, invariably, quote it wrong. I couldn’t wait to squash her ‘can’t-eat-what-she-touches-because-she-belongs-to-a-lower-caste-family’ and ‘daughters-need-to-be-demure-because-the-gods-created-us-that-way’ mindset.

As the years passed, I returned to and abandoned my promise (to myself) of reading the English translation of the Bhagavad Gita countless times. I’d start reading, intent on finishing, but it would either be too heavy and thus kind of morbid or I wouldn’t understand the point a verse was trying to make and I’d put it aside. It wasn’t well until my 30s that I actually picked up the Bhagavad Gita and stuck to it.

The first time I simply read the verses. The second time I delved deeper, trying to understand the message of each verse and its applicability in daily life. I don’t remember how many times I’ve read it thereafter. Now, I dig into it randomly, choosing to read a few pages every now and then. I like the Penguin editions (and there are many) because they are reader friendly. Recently, I also got a copy of the ‘Saral Gita’ by the Gitapress—this is the Nepali version.

I primarily read the Bhagavad Gita because I wanted to be knowledgeable enough to contest ideas, especially when people got all gung ho in the name of God. “That’s not what’s said in the Bhagavad Gita,” I wanted to be able to say. However, having read it quite a few times now, that need has been sidelined. I’ve started to like what I learn from it. Every time I pick it up, it inspires a new idea, a new thought.

Earlier everything was either black or white for me, but now I realize nothing is that obvious. The Bhagavad Gita does not prescribe one particular path or solution for life. What you take away from each of the 700 verses is entirely up to you. The wisdom of the Gita isn’t only for the devout seeking to guarantee a place for themselves in heaven (which is actually what a close friend seems to think I’m doing). It’s for those of us who are trying to change, be a little better every day, but desperately need help in doing that.

I still hope I’m able to impress (or offend) people with my knowledge of the Bhagavad Gita someday. But I would like to think I’m now wise and mellow enough to not be upset if that never happens.

No garment is perhaps as controversial as the headscarf. Many women choose to wear it—it signifies who they are and what their culture means to them. In an interview, Pakistani writer Sabyn Javeri said that women wear the hijab for different reasons—some to be able to move around freely, without scrutiny, and others to assert religious identity. There are also women who actually feel sheltered by the headscarf. But a large part of the society sees it as a patriarchal conditioning of women.

It is this idea of the headscarf and what it stands for—which is unique to each woman—that Javeri explores in her collection of short stories, ‘Hijabistan’.  The 16 short stories also delve into what it means to be a woman—more specifically a Muslim woman searching for identity—and the hijab is used as a metaphor. Set across Pakistan and London, the stories aren’t only about a piece of clothing. They are about the desires and dreams of women in different circumstances and of what they are capable of doing.

‘The Adulteress’ is about a woman torn between her sense of duty and desires. ‘Under the Flyover’ is about a married couple sneaking in some private moments before heading home to their crowded flat. In ‘The Hijab and Her’, a Pakistani exchange student in America gets picked on by her professor during a discussion on post-colonialism which leads to her choosing a different path in life. In another story, a British Muslim girl is on her way to Syria, contemplating the jihad.

Some stories are also about the struggles an immigrant faces while trying to fit in and staying true to one’s roots. For instance, in ‘The Good Wife’ the protagonist tries to assert her identity by wearing a hijab and ‘Only in London’ is about reinvention of the self by not dressing as the Muslim religion mandates. 

Javeri’s prose is smooth and her writing empathetic. None of the stories feel unnecessarily drawn out or pretentious. You will be able to relate with the many characters in the anthology whose age range from 13 to 50. Some stories might feel a little off but you are never bored or disappointed.

Rather, these are stories that make you think—about women who have kept quiet for far too long and all the sacrifices they are forced to make, for their families, in the name of religion, and simply because they are women.

Hijabistan is Javeri’s second book. Her first, ‘Nobody Killed Her’, published in 2017, was a fictionalized tale of a female prime minister’s assassination.  

Short Stories

Hijabistan

Sabyn Javeri

Published: 2019

Publisher: Harper Collins

Language: English

Pages: 216, Paperback

Any Indian cinema connoisseur will tell you that when Sudhir Mishra directs a film, it’s more than entertainment. It is a political statement laden with jest, jive and satire on contemporary Indian society, which in turn more or less represents the multi-cultural peoples of the Indian subcontinent. The director, who has previously made socially compelling movies like “Hazaaron Khwaishein Aisi,” “Dharavi,” and “Chameli,” continues his storytelling of the real people in his latest release “Serious Men.”

Serious Men—based on Indian journalist Manu Joseph’s book by the same name—is a Hindi-language comedy-drama that skillfully touches issues of caste divide, economic disparity, proselytism, political interferences in the common man’s life, and the burden of education placed on today’s children—all centered on the family of Ayyan Mani (Nawazuddin Siddiqui).

Ayyan is middle-aged Tamil who lives in Mumbai with his wife Oja Mani (Indira Tiwari) and son Adi Mani (Aakshath Das). Coming from an underprivileged shudra caste, Ayyan has been facing hardships and discriminations all his life owing to his caste and financial status. But despite his more than humble beginnings, Ayyan has managed to educate himself and get a ‘respectable job’.

So while he works as an assistant to astronomer Dr. Arvind Acharya (Nassar) at the National Institute of Fundamental Research in Mumbai, Ayyan dreams his son will elevate their status by getting higher education and becoming a famous scholar. Having been called “moron,” “imbecile,” and “knob-head” all the time by ‘serious men’ at work, Ayyan wants his son to be one of them—educated, rich, and powerful.

Ayyan’s son Adi does turn out to be a child genius of sorts. The 10-year-old with a slight hearing impairment can solve the most difficult scientific problems and calculate fast as a machine. Adi’s abilities catch the attention of the media as well as the local politicians who want to use him to promote their upcoming election campaign. Ayyan and Adi seemingly enjoy the attention they have been getting and make public appearances at various programs, to show off Adi’s skills. But what unfolds next changes the whole film narrative. It turns out that the father-son duo has a big secret, the leakage of which could alter their lives forever.

The story of Serious Men revolves around different aspects of discrimination that a poor, socially underprivileged family has to face, and their extra struggle to break their centuries-old shackles. Ayyan’s battle with casteism and poverty has made him callous to the feelings of his own wife and child. The burden of being poor and underprivileged he has carried all his life makes him take drastic steps to change the situation.

Even with so many underlying themes that affect Ayyan and his family’s life, the storytelling in Serious Men is coherent and enjoyable throughout its 1hrs 54mins length. Mishra’s tight script is adequately supported by the acting of Nawazuddin Siddiqui and Aakshath Das. Both—the former a seasoned star and the latter just a newcomer—get into their respective characters and justify their casting with ease. Getting most screen time in the movie, Siddiqui and Das add strength to the already strong screenplay and help Mishra create another set of memorable characters.

Who should watch it?

Serious Men is a movie for all those looking for more than just entertainment in cinema. It is a movie people will relate to in one way or other, and readily identify the characters as people they know.

Rating: 4 stars

Genre: Comedy/Drama

Run time: 1hr 54mins

Actors: Nawazuddin Siddiqui, Aakshath Das

Director: Sudhir Mishra