In what seems like another blow to AR Rahman’s discography, (It’s hard to forget the T-Series’ disco-bike-gang-mystery version of Urvashi, plateauing at 154 million views on YouTube) we have Sidharth Malhotra and Tara Sutaria right out of Marjaavaan sets, (was this a deleted song from the film?) with that mid-parting, leather jacket, head band, off-white salwars, and virginal glances. This time they are swaying generically to Tanishk Bagchi shredding the beauty and nostalgia that Masakali from Delhi 6 (Rahman’s finest album) represented.
The beats are familiar and catchy, the rhythmic rhyming we have heard. There’s nothing novel about this attempt, but oh-boy is the video bizarre. Here are 5 odd balls:
1. Masakali (1.0) was a song about freedom, a metaphor for Sonam Kapoor’s character in the film, who wants to show the world that the purpose of wings is to fly, not to be clipped, and caged. (Ironic because this whole song is shot indoors in what looks like a rich person’s cage)
Here the word ‘pankh’ used in the original becomes ‘wing’, and the whole freedom metaphor is not just lost… it morphs into a love anthem. Sidharth Malhotra is calling Tara Sutaria a pigeon before proceeding to make love to her. A metaphor lost, a musical gem tainted, this is not a very good day for the OG Masakali fans.
2. Apart from being called a pigeon, Malhotra also calls her lightning at one point. (There must be a listicle somewhere of the weirdest things Hindi lyrics have compared women to)
This is not helped by Tulsi Kumar’s voice for Tara Sutaria referring to herself in third person (Kyun Uspe Paagal Tu, Bhatakta Baadal Tu) and then first person (Chali Mein To Chali). Consistency is not currency here. The rhythmic beats are. And wham-bam-sham, while they entertain, they also pain. At least I bobbed my head to it.
3. There’s an unnecessary rotating bed, which is made worse by Tara Sutaria walking around its periphery at a higher speed. It’s dizzying. They also jump into and out of the bed quite often. I am sensing a health hazard here.
4. I counted 6 chandeliers in this one room, and they say we don’t have enough money to solve the crisis we are in.
The only way to process Masakali 2.0 is to re-watch Masakali 1.0 and yearn for the different time that it represented- a fractured yet glued togetherness, where metaphors meant something and Sonam Kapoor’s Anamika Khanna (who designed the costumes for the film) rip offs were all the rage in Crawford Market.