First Person Account of How I Survived MSG 2

Gurmeet Ram Rahim Singh Ji Insaan is at it again. He made his presence felt earlier this year when he called himself Messenger of God – much to the chagrin of the Censor Board and civil society. The “GOD” thus muted, is back as MSG2 – The Messenger.

My job as you know is to review films. Today has been a particularly tough day at work. One that I am not going to forget any time soon. “Call the police if you don’t hear from me in the next 2 hours,” I wrote half jokingly on my Facebook wall as I drove down to the nearest Noida Mall to catch the 12:15 pm show of MSG2 – The Messenger. The one at Saket was housefull. Unbelievable!

I remember when I had gone for MSG 1 the lady at the counter had bluntly told me “Ma’am please understand ye bohot buri hai”. It’s only after I explained to her the nature of my work, did she relent before adding, “Bohot mushkil kaam hai aapka!” Something similar happened today. “One ticket for MSG 2 please,” I told the kind looking girl. “MSG?” she repeated in a concerned tone. “Akele?” She went on. “Yeah”, I answered with a watery smile. Moments such as these make you realise that friendship is an overrated term. This was my karma and I had to forge ahead alone.

Ticket in hand, I move on. “Where is Audi 5?” I ask a uniformed gentleman. Peering down at his phone, he mumbles “upstairs” and then suddenly looks up to ask – “Kaunsi film”? “MSG 2”, I announce. We share a long gaze. No words are exchanged.

Audi 5 is choc-a-bloc. Women in ghunghats, men in dhoti and kurta pyjama. Young girls with their hair tied back with ribbons. I had crossed the rubicon. No looking back now. I take a deep breath and walked on. Third row from the back corner seat, I collapse into my chair while mayhem ensues all around me. Loud voices in Haryanvi accent declare – “Jahan jagah mile baith jao”. It’s all dark. The audi seems packed to the brim. I won’t be surprised to see people squatting on their haunches at the aisle. The loud voices refuse to mellow down. Most sit wherever they like. Lung power would be used to tackle the poor souls who would come to claim their rightful place. “Baith jaao! Guruji aa gaye” someone bellows and “Guru Ram Rahim Singh ji Insaan” flashes before my eyes.

The first scene – a closeup of Guruji’s legs. Bright coloured sneakers and a printed capri. He runs to save two children from a burning house. Guruji’s jacket catches fire. He jumps into what looks like a huge aquarium and then is propelled up. Then a halo around his head.

I am waiting for some hooting, whistling or at least a slight giggle. But nothing. Only rapt attention! I’d imagined I’d be in for a treat – a single screen movie watching experience at a multiplex but that is not to be. All ears perked up, eyes glued to the screen as we are shown footage of Guruji hammering nails in make-shift houses. The voice-over in Hindi informs us about the humanitarian work that Guruji has undertaken to rehabilitate earthquake-stricken people in Nepal.

Back to the film. Guruji in a pink sleeveless T-shirt. His arms covered by a thick carpet of hair. He raises his hands displaying equally peppered under-arms. (Pardon me but I am just doing my job here.) He sings and young girls and boys follow. I wait for some witty comment. Strain my ears to hear some joke and stifled laugh but no luck. Only the same rapt attention. Not even a wailing kid. Can you believe that!

Guruji keeps himself busy throughout the film. There are ‘adivasis’ who need to be ‘civilised’. “Hum apne pyaar ka yantra istemaal karenge,” he says. Okay then! The adivasis live deep inside the jungle, cover themselves in animal skin, eat raw meat and speak in chaste Haryanvi. (All the adivasis, I swear.) Guruji does the unthinkable. The adivasis are won over. He plays ‘posham pa’ with an elephant. I don’t know where to look!

I shift uneasily in my seat. Guruji on screen has a head band and hair tied in a high ponytail. He does a Rajnikanth and splits an arrow into two. Enough! The girl sitting next to me looks harmless. I decide to strike up a conversation with her. At least I’ll have someone to laugh with – I say to myself. “Hey are you enjoying the film?” I ask mischievously. “Ya..interesting na”, she says with a smile. Ouch that hit hard. Is she serious? Is she? “Did you see the last one”, I soldier on. “Obviously. Great fun”. “BHOOOOOOOOT mummaaaa bachaaao” the little girl in me screams.

I pick up my bag and I’m out of Audi 5. Retired hurt after 40 minutes. The same uniformed manager meets me at the exit. He pushes open the door for me. No words are exchanged but his expression says it all – “What were you thinking madam!”

Seriously what WAS I thinking? Actually it doesn’t matter. That packed Audi 5 and many other such screenings are proof that Guru Ram Rahim Singh Ji Insaan is no mere mortal. Guruji has all the love and adulation of his target audience but the QUINTS I shall keep for myself.

5/5 QUINTS to me for having survived to tell my tale. Phew!