Pray after Tomorrow

Sharma’s man is Nihal Singh — the quintessential Punjab da puttar,who has had enough of flexing his designer biceps on the ganne ki khet,enough of running after a garrulous red- chilly-pickle making bebe. He now wants the cool bike,the cooler chick and thinks Bombay is his Sunny Deol-flick come true. He is not all mistaken when he finally makes it to the city. His college is a sprawling beach resort where women are found in various stages of undress and men in various stages of overdress. He finds his geek with a golden heart who has a strange predilection for curly hair,specs and checked or colorful pants. He finds his nice girl who bears her ‘Fashion Street’ uber-cool skirt,super short dresses and cleavage-baring tops with the sobriety of a freedom fighter courting the noose. He finds his haughty-but-prospectively-nice-and-kind heroine lounging with the stud in his leather glory,and hurling abuses at the aforementioned ever so humble Fashion Street girl. And then if he starts getting visions — of bombs in colours that can give Govinda’s ’90s wardrobe a run for its notoriety — we are not surprised. And then of course,he meets the prodigious scientist whose laboratory is one big affair of fluorescent tiffin boxes,fluorescent pipes and wires,white drums and scrabble board like stuff. He is scheming — a horrible scheme to shatter Bombay,which is to India,what New York is to Hollywood. Nihal has to act,and fast. If he wants us to leave in peace,that is!

Actually,it’s a little unfair to grudge Jackie Bhagnani for living out the ludicrous script that daddy and his director gave him. He pulls out all stops — he smiles like a simpleton,he twists his waist in unimaginable angles,he sobs and drops heavily down on precarious edges of cliffs,he gets beaten up,wears red shiny waistcoats,and even gives the customary hero-speech before dropping down five-floors to save the world from a very dangerous bomb. In fact,you wonder if he went home without a muscle ache,given the number of times he is found atop mountains and yachts,stretching his legs,hands and head in all different directions,for the never-ending songs. He seems to have quite a knack for tickling the funny bone in you,but can he help if the director intends to make all his Sunny Deol-meets-Chiranjeevi dreams come true through him? Vaishali Desai seems to have a serious disregard for making her facial muscles work. Probably reason why Sharma gives her black tears in a sequence,in case you couldn’t make out she is really sad and weepy. At least,Jackie can take over once Tusshar Kapoor officially retires. As for Vaishali,if hanging down cliffs in designer gowns becomes a fixture in future,she might have a career!

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