Khwaja mere khwaja, unnecessary band baaja

Remember the crush you had in high school, when you'd write his name in a notebook and doodle around it while talking on the phone to your best friend?

Remember watching your crush out of the corner of your eye and wishing you were attractive enough to be on his radar like the girls who wore their skirts two inches above the knees instead of two inches below?

And remember how, after swooning over him for weeks, you almost came within kissing distance one day, only to discover that he suffered from the worst case of halitosis, enough to make the smell of cow dung more inviting?

That’s how mom felt as she sat through a late-night showing of Jodhaa-Akbar this past weekend. Feeling somewhat like a born-again virgin, revisiting a theater for a Hindi movie after watching Mitr in 2002, mom hesitated for a second before handing over a whopping $10 in cash for her ticket.

Within the first few minutes of the movie, as she watched blood spill and elephants crush soldiers' heads like coconuts, she thought of all the ways she could’ve spent the $10 wisely – on three gallons of milk for the family; a Netflix subscription for an entire month; possible art supplies; even a much-needed threading of her eyebrows and upper lip.

Watching the two most beautiful people in Bollywood trying to unsuccessfully ignite passion onscreen, mom thought of the four hours she could’ve spent on worthwhile activities, such as grinding idli batter for the week ahead, cleaning her closet, packing for her India trip, or catching up on lost sleep.

In fact, were it not for the friends she sat with, mom might have slipped out the fourth time Hrithik flared his nostrils like a virile Arabian steed. Instead, she sat with her legs crossed against a full bladder, reluctant to use the restroom lest she miss the entertaining comments from a raucous Tamil crowd and the gossip her girlfriends dispensed during intermission.

Had someone handed her a remote control, mom would’ve watched the movie at the same speed as the spin cycle on her washer. The frustration of the protagonists mirrored her own, especially when she realized that the elaborate nose rings and kilos of jewelry on Jodhaa were the principal deterrents in consummating the royal marriage.

While the film focused on the princely pair, mom silently rooted for the underdog - Jodhaa's sensitive cousin, who she secretly felt was a poet trapped in a prince's body. The character's gentleness reminded mom of the man asleep in her own bed - a person capable of stirring great sentiment and ardor in her heart.

Had she stood up and walked out of the movie when the first wave of tenderness hit her, mom would've gone home and initiated an "art" project that would have made good use of her supplies.

And had the project lasted as long as the movie did, with no intermission, she would've written off the investment as having excellent returns.