Udta Punjab — An all-round high

Some months back, I had blogged about the censorious chief of the Central Film Certification Board who wished to proclaim as unutterable in movies, 36 ‘bad’ words. At that time, I thought that it’s enough to dismiss such blustering buffoons with a derisive laugh. How wrong I was. He grew into a monster who almost deprived us of watching ‘Udta Punjab’, the loudest wake-up call against the drug menace.
The movie is shocking and captivating. Like it was meant to be. It is a dexterous interweave of four story threads that come together to tug at your heart-strings. The barbed wire of ruthless characters intertwines with the soggy strands of feckless characters; appalling you, infuriating you, leaving you aghast and almost helpless. Till the fallen stagger up. And fight back. Then you are rooting with all your pent-up fury for a well-deserved blood-bath.
One wonders what any sane man would find offensive in this movie. Forget the expletives about genitals and incest, this movie denounces drugs in no uncertain terms. It in no way glorifies them like some preachy movies tend to do. On the other hand, it has a character, a rockstar who had ridden to fame on the cool quotient of cocaine and sings ‘high’ praises to it, realising his folly and struggling to redeem himself. In fact, the movie so graphically and almost didactically shows the downside of drugs that it could very well have been a government sermon; if it wasn’t so brilliantly un-boring. And well-written. And well-acted (have to mention the jaw-dropping performance of Alia). If the movie doesn’t reach loftier heights, it is because it leaves unexplored a bigger problem: banning. Which is more dangerous and takes more lives than the narcotics themselves.
Yes, so one wonders, what pieces of un-evolved protoplasm wanted to hack this praiseworthy effort with 89 cuts?
I honestly feel that anyone who desires to be a member of the Film Certification Board should themselves be certified. They should be checked by a battery of psychiatrists to see what makes them think that they are eligible and capable of judging what a billion people should or should not watch. I pity their souls. And I pity the poor souls in their households who have to put up with these flawless, pure, pompous asses.