I watch helplessly as dreams dissolve. As they are methodically shattered.
As they disappear...
Hindi soap operas get weirder with every passing day. So we have dear younger sister who sacrifices herself at the altar of her didi's untimely premarital pregnancy woes. By becoming the dowry for her quick marriage to the man she loves. Who loves the little sis, by the way.
Then we have Radha ki betiyaan roti rahengi, a cryfest, as the title suggests. Mother and three daughters revel in celebrating every occasion, whether happy or sad, with bouts of serial crying. Actually, they are not the only ones celebrating the low import duties on glycerine. With every packet of Umeed, you get a vial of glycerine free.
Ecstasy is the other in thing. Sunaina mostly pouts with the 'God just told me I'm his next incarnation' look. While her to-be mother-in-law has extensive Jiya Jale moments. Talking of which, Jiya jhooms through Jhoome Jiya Re. Jhoom is probably a metaphor for her perennially doped look.
I chanced upon Kahaani Ghar Ghar Ki recently, and it seems dear old Dadima is still alive and well. Parvati probably has grandchildren, but her looks don't say so. Meanwhile Tulsi, who is now the wife of Kashinath Pandey the king of Varanasi, always throws these enigmatic prayers at poor Lord Krishna and offers vaguely reflective philosophical solace to her perennially beleagured bitter half.
The hoardings at the railway station scream - Kis Desh Mein Hain Mera Dil. In which country is my heart? Any takers? Tehelka would love to add that to its kitty of investigative stories.
And if you are the vamp, you HAVE to wear halter-neck blouses.
PS: Don't sue me.