When Madhav attends Riya's birthday, he questions her about the nature of their relationship. Uncomfortable, Riya says that she is not his girlfriend, but they can maybe reach a compromise since they have reached halfway, and she offers to be his "Half Girlfriend." One afternoon after a game Madhav asks Riya if she would like to rest in his room in a boys only dorm, where (goaded by his peers and feeling humiliated by Riya's uncertainty) Madhav tries to force himself upon Riya. Upset and hurt, a few days later, Riya tells Madhav that she is leaving college and getting married. Madhav tries to stop her but she leaves.
What a concept sir-ji, I think! What a way to encapsulate those might-have-beens, those ambivalent, ambiguous, hesitant relationships that are there, yet not quite there. What a fabulous phrase to communicate that love is actually a half-fairytale with a misty beginning, a messy middle and a dodgy end. Some people, somewhere, somehow, have very clear-cut relationships. The rest of us often have many degrees of different relationships.
The rise of this whining tone is making me lose sympathy for this hero. Madhav comes from the royal family of Dumraon. Meaning, his ancestors were rajas. Meaning normally, where there are rajas there is like, you know, feudalism. And before the East India Company did its number on us, there was also this thing called the caste system, which hey, is a part of our Indianness we managed to hold on to just fine with a little help from the self-same East India Company. So perhaps Madhav-Chetan is right. There would have been no Angrezi-Hindi oonch neech. But what makes them suggest there would have been no other kind? Double Chetan provides us a simplistic history lesson, a half-history that does not fully frame our complicated present.
How could you reduce women to such a half-package yaar? Can a woman not be feminist and fun and loveable without a deep secret? A deep secret in which she is a victim, but at the same time so self-sacrificing that she stands by her man and then leaves, rather than let the shadow of her past make his path a-svacchh so he has to have a shuddi-karan (aka Dharma Productions product placement)? Eventually Riya exists only to prove that rich, English speaking people are bad, and to help Madhav get his English game on.
This story is about Riya Somani, a Godzilla fan-girl like me who walks into the rain slowly, resolutely, with half-closed eyes, while everyone watches from the safety of cars and buildings. And when she is not playing basketball, she is walking around "St Steven's" (!) College looking like she's just discovered one needed an Aadhaar Card to eat Maggi in India.
For people who haven't yet bitten into the forbidden fruit of Mr Bhagat's literature, that phrase, in his own words, means "make love to me, or leave". Continuing, "Actually, that sounds respectable. If I had to make an honest translation, I would say: 'fuck me, or fuck off'. Hell, even that sounds way better now than how I said it." If that sentence makes it to the film, the theatres would be divided into two: half the people cringing and puking in their seats, and the other half probably whistling their cheers for Bhagat. He has a sway over a lot of people, you see.
Riya Somani, the half-girlfriend in Half Girlfriend, gets married to her 'rakhi brother'. This guy is a family friend of the Somanis, he is filthy rich (has to be, duh), and almost whisks Riya away from under Madhav's nose. Just the thought of someone getting married to someone she has always called 'bhaiya', who is a family friend is, well... repulsive in our world. Not quite sure about Mr Bhagat's world though.
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