Chashme Buddoor (1981)

Each time you view Chashme Buddoor it makes you long for Delhi of the
'80s, quiet and laidback. It lets loose a nostalgia for simple
pleasures like Campa Cola and Tutti Fruti ice cream, and makes you
rediscover the times when jaunty young men could fall for girls in
two-plait hairstyle and "leheriya dupatta". Yet you also sense that
the characters and their relationships still have a contemporary ring.
The bachelors' barsaati with half-smoked cigarettes and coconut shell
ashtray could be true of any age. The theme of friendship, jealousies
and misunderstandings coming in the way of love is as timeless. Yes,
the acting is great and pace unhurried. But what you notice most are
the small things. How the minutest of characters come alive, how Sai
Paranjpe liberally uses popular Delhi actors like Vinod Nagpal (music
teacher) and Keemti Anand (the waiter), regulars back then in the
theatre circuit and DD serials. There's an unca­nny eye for detailing,
right down to the banal chore of the grandmot­her: filling achaar from
a huge martbaan into a small bottle.

The magic is in Paranjpe's writing. She is irreverent and cheeky, be
it the inventive titles where she asserts herself by showing a woman's
hands replacing the man's in the director credit. Or the way, she
rolls in the interval. The odd line from the song (kali ghodi pe gora
saiya chamake) is delightfully tongue-in-cheek, when juxtaposed with
the hero riding a black mobike. Even the romance begins quirkily—over
a besan laddoo served in a tea cup and a clean towel washed with
"khushbudaar, jhaagwala Chamko". And then there's the dad refusing to
acknowledge his daughter could be in a relationship with insane logic:
"Chhoti hai abhi, ice cream khaati hai". Best is the manner in which
Paranjpe plays with the conventions of Hindi cinema—right from the
brilliant songs' montage to the deliberately over-the-top climax with
a suitably deafening BG score. Chashme Buddoor is joy forever.

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