At this point, I am assuming you already read the first and second day experience... Third and Fourth Days On my third evening in Nepal, after the dinner, I went to the family room to chat. Everyone was in the room but nobody paid me any attention. When I ventured a conversation, three voices in chorus Sssh-ed me. My entire family looked hypnotized by an Indian movie that was playing on our 27” Sony Trinitron that still has “It’s a Sony” tag on the upper left corner. I had not seen any Indian movie in more than ten years. Since the movie had just begun, curious, I started watching it myself. To be honest, more than the curiosity, it was an urge to be a team player. The plot of the movie was quite intriguing. There were three lead characters in the movie: two men and a woman. In the beginning of the movie, the darker of the two men falls in love with the woman. He does not tell her how he feels about her. But forty-five minutes into the movie, the woman falls in love with the fair man. The dark and the fair men are the best of friends. The dark man is heartbroken when he finds out about their love affair when he sees the fair guy and the woman singing and dancing in a zoo. I didn’t quite get it why, but they were indeed singing and dancing in a zoo. Yes, in a zoo—surrounded by children and extras. Sure enough there is a bad guy in the movie who is after the fair guy’s money. Though the premise of loyalty is not quite established in the movie, the dark guy repeatedly defends his friend from the bad guy and his posse. After nine different fistfight sequences, in the end, the dark guy and the bad guy shoot each other to death. While the dark guy was in his lingering act of dying, the woman finds out from his aunt (who just happens to be standing there) that he was always in love with her. The woman grabs the dark guy’s hand and whispers, “You were too good for me. Why didn’t you tell me?” That exchange is followed by a dream sequence where the dark guy finds himself with the woman—in the same zoo, dancing and singing the same song. Then he rolls his head to the right to let us know that he died. Suddenly dozens of cops arrive at the scene. DSP Khurana takes his hat off and the movie ends. The movie’s ending opened the floodgates of restrained emotions in our family. Two distinct sobbing, one of my mom and the other of my sister-in-law stirred our family room. Gripping! Besides its compelling story, the characters in the movie undergo occasional fits and erupt into songs and dances every 18 minutes. It was such an engrossing concept that there was a pin drop silence in our family room for 170 minutes. After my dinner on the fourth day, I went to the family room again. It was a déjà vu trip—my entire family was watching another Indian movie. I did not even bother to start a conversation this time. I just sat and watched. The second movie was so different from the first movie that I cannot even imagine to draw a parallel. Forget about some of the dialogues, even the actors were different. There were three lead characters in the second movie: two men and a woman. Uh-huh, there is a difference! The men are not friends in this movie—they are brothers. In the beginning of the movie, the fairer of the two brothers falls in love with the woman. He does not tell her how he feels about her. But the woman falls in love with the dark brother. The fair brother is heartbroken when he sees them singing and dancing outside the Tata Memorial Cancer Hospital in Bombay. I didn’t quite get it why, but they were indeed singing and dancing outside the Cancer Hospital. Yes, outside the cancer hospital—surrounded by fast food vendors and extras. There is a bad guy in the second movie as well. Uh-huh again, there is a big difference here—the bad guy is not after the money, he is after the woman. After eight different fistfight sequences, in the end, the bad guy and the fair guy stab each other to death. Uh-huh, you see there is a huge difference, no bullets here. While the fair brother was dying, the woman intuitively figures out that he had a thing for her. She hugs him whispering, “Why didn’t you tell me? You were too good for me.” Uh-huh again! There is no dream sequence here—they just stare at each other and let Udit Narayan Jha sing in the background. When the song ends, the fair brother rolls his head to the left. Only four cops arrive to the scene. Inspector Desai does not take his hat off. When tears finally evaporated, my sister, my mother, and my sister-in-law had a 20-minute discussion on which was the better movie. My sister and my sister-in-law liked the first one. My mother who is quite fair liked the second movie. I noticed that due to a huge popularity of extremely inferior entertainment industry in neighboring India, most of the people in Nepal have not developed any taste for art or music. We cannot produce quality of our own. On the other hand, our bigger, better, and wiser neighbor India, is not that big, good, or wise when it comes to art and music. The country that boasts a population of more than a billion people does not even produce one true artist every five years. Unfortunately, those Nepali who boycott Indian productions do it for all the wrong reasons. They boycott them not because of quality, but because they resent Indians. I found a simple approach that is so prevalent in Nepal: “Thou shall resent thy big neighbor.” However thou shall always rely on thy big neighbor for salt, sugar, rice, automobiles, oil, clothes, medicine and doctors, education, democracy, and of course water pumps with high horse power. “But isn’t that hypocrisy?” I asked a wise acquaintance of mine. Said, he: “Thou shall not question our hatred. In Nepal our patriotism is measured in our willingness to hate India. The louder we hate, the more patriotic we are. Jai Nepal!” Then again, this attitude is no different from Canadians disliking Americans. I have been to Canada couple of times. There is no love lust among Canadians when it comes to America or Americans. I guess when you are insignificant located next to a significant one, holier-than-thou grudges are only consequential. Unless our Himalayas melt and become oceans, I don’t know how far we will go with this “Madhise Chor” slogan. We are already landlocked; I for one don’t want to be locked in my prejudice too. Don’t get me wrong, I know India is a big bully when it comes to South Asia. But I take pride in criticizing India by mocking their favorite pastime—Bollywood movies. Since I am not hateful by nature, consider that my contribution. To be continued…