Free THE MAGICAL PALACE by Kunal Mukjerjee Page B

Film Festival was being held.
    ‘Oh, that’s the Rajesh Khanna and Asha Parekh film from 1970!’ I beamed. ‘I never got to watch it then because Baba said I was too young to go. But I love the songs so much!’
    ‘Of course. The music is by R.D. Burman. It has to be good,’ Rani said in a superior tone.
    Binesh Kaku, as usual, did not speak much. The rest of us chattered about the film. As we drove past Tank Bund, the lake looked like blue ice in the golden afternoon sunshine, and I felt supremely happy.
    The name Roxie Cinema was written across the front of the bright yellow theatre in English and Telugu and could be seen from far away. There were giant billboards showing Rajesh Khanna, perfectly groomed, his complexion too light and his lips too pink. Asha Parekh looked fair and pretty, her large, dark eyes dominating her face. Bindu was depicted with lots of make-up on her face and showing ample bosom. My heart quickened in excitement at the sight of the actors’ paintings.
    Binesh Kaku pulled the car up to the theatre and let us out. ‘Be right here after the film ends. I will be here to pick you up.’ The words barely out of his mouth, he pulled away, leaving us in a cloud of exhaust smoke. We turned and went into the theatre, Mallika’s arm entwined with mine. Behind us, Rani and Shyamala whispered conspiratorially.
    We quickly got some potato chips and Coca Cola and found our seats. Rani and I sat on each side of Mallika, wanting to be close to her. Shyamala sat next to Rani. We had barely started munching on the chips and sipping the Coca Cola when the scalloped curtains rose. A black-and-white screen appeared and the numbers flashing on it counted down, signalling the start of the newsreel.
    ‘Oh God! Now we have to sit through the news documentary,’ Rani groaned. After the news documentary, the trailers began. I wished they would hurry up and start the show. Mallika kept looking at her watch. I had never seen her so impatient.
    The film started off on a romantic note. I watched in rapture as Rajesh Khanna, devastatingly handsome, sang a drunken love song to Asha Parekh in the rain. I could not understand why she turned away from him—I would have run straight into his arms! Soon after, Prem Chopra, the villain, made his appearance, showing off his hairy chest. He was accompanied by his moll Bindu.
    A few minutes after the start of the movie, however, Mallika got up from her seat. ‘I will be right back,’ she whispered to me.
    ‘Where are you going?’ I asked in surprise, but she left without answering, pushing me firmly back into my seat.
    I wondered where Mallika had gone, but the movie soon picked up pace and I was engrossed. I was completely caught up in the plot before I realized with a start that Mallika had been gone for a while.
    I leaned across the empty seat and asked Rani in a low voice, ‘Do you know where Mallika Didi went? Should I go look for her?’
    ‘No, don’t. Stay here. Be quiet,’ Rani snapped.
    ‘Shhh!’ an annoyed patron admonished from behind us.
    Rani grimaced and held her finger to her lips. Just then, Mallika returned. Was she crying? I wanted to ask her what had happened.
    As the actress Bindu danced seductively on the screen,singing, ‘Mera naam hai Shabnam, pyar se log mujhe Shabbo kehte hain … ’ someone sitting in front made a catcall. More whistles of appreciation followed. I thought about the boys in my class. They would have whistled too. But the sight of Bindu stirred no such reaction in me.
    ‘Such roadside Romeos!’ Rani muttered. ‘What can you expect from the peanut gallery?’
    I felt vindicated. This kind of behaviour was just not acceptable in decent society—there was nothing wrong with me not finding Bindu attractive.
    In contrast to Bindu, the heroine, Asha Parekh, was a demure and beautiful woman—a victim of circumstances and destiny. And I knew that Rajesh Khanna would surely save her. But when he sang to her and proclaimed his love