“Hey Pushpa, I hate tears,” said Rajesh Khanna, and the hearts and knees of girls and women aged between 8 and 80 turned mushy.

I really don’t know what Rajesh Khanna would have said to me if he’d known me. Still, my sisters swore they would never, ever come with me to the theatre after I supposedly brought the house down during the screening of Sampurna Ramayana because I bawled my heart out, sputtering Hanuman would fall into the sea!

Here I was, some five- or six-year-old me, seeing Hanuman take a giant leap across the seas, and the screen goes blank with an Interval written on it.  How am I to know he would make it safely across the seas?

For the next few years, till I knew better, I was happy with my ten paise, roasted channa (my treat for not accompanying them to movies) when my parents and sisters went to the theatre, and I played happily in my neighbour’s house.

Then I became pricey. I learnt to negotiate.  It would be the price of the ticket or nothing else.

I did accompany them to iconic movies like Anand, Sholay, Khubsoorat and Koshish. But I also missed many happy moments with my roasted channa. Today, my teeth are far from satisfied with my love for that damned thing- despite fond nostalgia.

I cried for the dialogue, “Mere paas maa hai” in Deewaar. I cried when Rajesh Khanna said, “Babumoshai, zindagi badi honi chahiye… lambi nahi.”

It broke my heart when Jaya Bhaduri and the amazing Sanjeev Kapoor lost their child in Koshish. And it broke my heart when Jaya and Amitabh had a falling-out in Abhimaan.

These were the times before I fell in love with movies. Studying my 11^th and 12^th (intermediate) in a college situated in Abids (Hyderabad) was a definite plus.  If we tripped and fell, our heads and legs would fall in different theatres. So, we went for Hindi, Telugu, and English movies. I watched very few Tamil movies, for the shows in Hyderabad were limited.

If I watched Insaaf ka Tarazu, I cried. I cried for Khubsoorat, for Don, and wept profusely when Amitabh Bachchan sang, “Yeh saati re, tere bina bhi kya jeena?” in Muquadaar ka Sikandar. I cried for two reasons. One, he broke my heart by crying. Two, he broke my heart by not knowing about my existence.  I cried for Telugu films like Marocharitra, Sankarabaranam, Sagara Sangamam. My friends were a little more accommodating to my silent sniffling. But I was deeply ashamed and tried to hide my tears, like Rajesh Khanna; I couldn’t tell myself. “Hey Chandrika, I hate tears,” but my eyes never listened to me.

I didn’t know that my crying over unreal scenarios would soon transform into real tears when my examination marks of those two years came in!

There was a standing joke among my family and friends that I had a tap behind my eyes, and they joked that I started to cry with the title song and ended when the credits rolled.

Excuse me! I wasn’t that bad. I stopped during the interval too and during the screening of advertisements.

Post-marriage and kids, I thought these ready tears would cease to fall. What more than marriage and motherhood to show you a mirror!

But then, each time I watched a re-run of Kuch Kuch Hota Hai, I was sniffling. I cried for Kal Ho Na Ho. Very soon I became the most sought-after adult escort for my daughter and her friends when they wanted to go to theatres. But when her best friend told my daughter, “Please bring a bucket and a towel for your mother. Your mother would need it for Taare Zameen Par,” I was deeply affronted.

Excuse me!

The only difference in my sobs were earlier (after the Hanuman episode, of course), I tried to do it surreptitiously. Now I just bawl unabashedly!

Most of my viewing is on OTT. The last time I cried buckets was for Safed Sagar. I also cry for those movies when I wonder why the hell am I subjecting myself to such torture like RRR.

But then, whether you or Rajesh Khanna hate tears, tell me a good reason why one shouldn’t cry when the little girl screams, “maama,” in Bajrangi Bhaijaan?

 

This post is a part of ‘Pass the Popcorn Blog Hop’ hosted by Manali Desai and Sukaina Majeed and sponsored by Jaico Publishing House under the #EveryConversationMatters blog hop series.