Chennai Express stars in Bollywood movie fiesta on Netflix
Sometimes we return to places only to feel cheated that the rosy glow of remembrance has filtered out what was real.
And so I am still tube travelling … Not via the London underground, of course, but the loungeroom telly set. I am rationing The Durrells (Snap Decisions, August 21-22) to one episode a week as otherwise the series will end too soon and I’ll be stranded. But, wait, I could start watching all over again as it would mean a return visit to Corfu and nothing will have changed. Which leads to the subject of places we go back to and feel cheated that what we loved most has either altered or the rosy glow of remembrance has filtered out what was real.
India has been a passion of mine for decades and my visits there number more than 30, give or take a quick stopover. It’s a country that not only reveals mysterious ways and exotic findings but teaches you about yourself – levels of endurance, compassion, patience and resilience. It tips you upside down and turns you inside out. The bureaucracy of triplicate forms causes you to weep. The kindness of strangers makes you glow. India changes on the surface but not in its soul. It’s where I go for reality checks and to straighten my mind about what’s important in life and what’s not. About what we really need to survive and be happy and what’s just fairy dust and indulgence. India is my guru.
So, are we in the mood for some Indian TV? There’s a Bollywood movie fiesta on Netflix blazing with joyous music and body contortions that defy description. Expect a whirl of colour with “song-talking” dialogue and fantastic feats. The hilariously handsome Shah Rukh Khan, one of India’s biggest stars, is starring in Chennai Express. The official synopsis? “What could have been a sad journey turns joyful for Rahul when he falls in love with a woman en route to submerging his grandfather’s ashes.” Rahul’s train trip might be derailed but ... “One, two, three, four ... Get on the dance floor!”
I can‘t pretend I’ve had such a train ride in India quite that joyful but Khan’s off on a magic carpet ride. My jingle-jangle bazaar bangles provide echoes of India as I whirl about the living room against a chaotic soundtrack. Between the chairs I go and around the table and over the ottomans and into the beating heart of memory.