“It must be yucky getting all that chocolate on your skin.” my little cousin made a wry face. “Like I can’t even stand those birthday cake scenes!”
Me neither. Cakes are so delightfully made, so prettily layered in colours like pink and brown that it should be an official sin wasting them thus. Now of course, perspectives are hardly like that. With the advent of La Tomatina for instance, people do not think twice before squashing a tomato. I even heard talk in the local market about tie-ups between colours and vegetable sellers next Holi season. But before I digress further, I should let you know about the chocolate that was being talked about.
“Oh that TV commercial di.” the cousin added nonchalantly. “* condoms.”
Holy cow. Did I or did I hear that? Now please do not think I am anachronistic, but my middle-school going cousin – plaited and blazer-wearing – discussing a condom ad with me? The world was surely coming of age.
She went about to describe how this ‘chick’ is cooking some hot chocolate in the kitchen and her boyfriend comes and applies some of it on her bare back. They then make some ambiguous statement about ‘surprising’ each other. I am hoping my cousin saw an edited version for she did not go on with a description… or did she merely shy away from it? I remember her groaning in disgust when people lip locked onscreen. I wonder if that has changed.
When I was younger, screen lovers kissed behind bushes and flowers. They ran around trees and sang songs on hilltops. Some movie critics these days write off any movie which involves similar sequences. But they go all out in favour of one that throws the sex in your face. “The sex scenes were aesthetically shot…” they write, “…and they gave to the plot A, B and C”. Oh yes. They titillated the ‘mature’ audiences, embarrassed a girl out on her first date, roused a high-school grader from air-conditioned-hall-in-summer-slumber and well, made some write about them on their blogs.
The chocolate emotion has been transcending new boundaries. Soap stars keep falling in each other’s arms and come close enough (albeit very slowly) for the cameramen to shoot a satisfactory close-up of their lips. But they do not kiss. That is a rule TV has held on to so far. I am waiting for some telly show to come up with an innovative USP, say on the lines of Mallika’s seventeen (?) kisses in Khwahish.
If I could, I would protect my younger clan from sights and sounds of lusty security people at the airport, bikini babes rushing after men on the beach and girlfriends and wives working at hot chocolate. I wish I could get assistance for the protection and it needs to be more mature than ‘parental locks’.
Personally, I like my films and any other AV/print media to be more sensitive and sensible than a heat period quickie. You know, stories that talk of other things that people do. The ones that celebrate the human spirit you know?
“When do you turn 30 di?” my cousin grinned, going through this.
Oh never mind.