A.R.Ts (129) - DDLJ and why it doesn't stand the "timeless romance" test for me

Come fall in love, it said. And I fell. Not in love. But for the film. Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jayenge.

I loved DDLJ when I first saw it. It was warm, fuzzy and full of life. At a time when my generation was celebrating rebellion, the movie made conformity fashionable. Not surprising that a large cross section of people could relate to the concept of seeking permission for marriage - after all, we are a society rooted in the "Yeh Shaadi nahin ho Sakti hai" mindset. The film transitioned effortlessly from the snow to the sarson ka saag, gave us some memorable songs and dialogues (Who has never said –Ja Jee Le Apni Zindagi), created a hit star couple, and even etched itself in the original Mount Titlus. Earlier this month, it completed 1000 weeks of screening at a popular Mumbai cinema hall.

But the reality is that I can't sit through a DDLJ today. Shahrukh Khan as Raj appears stupid and silly, even bordering on intolerable, with his prancing around with a tray in the wedding, or sitting with the ladies in the kitchen, desperately trying to impress the grandmother. Kajol as Simran agreeing to get betrothed to a man in India - when she hasn't seen both India and the man feels alien. Amrish Puri as the patriarch who left India to seek economic liberation, but refused to break free of the shackles of regressive social norms comes across as hypocritical. The entire wedding sequence appears farcical, designed with the sole purpose of showcasing Shahrukh as the ideal son in law.

So I ask myself, what is it that makes a love story timeless?

When I think of a timeless love story, I think of Bridges of Madison County. The story of the lonely Italian farm wife and the vagabond National Geographic photographer makes my heart ache every time I read it. There are scenes from the book that creep into me each time I think of love. Their dance together. The dress she wore the evening of their first date. He clicking her picture before they parted ways forever. The letters they wrote but never sent each other till such time they died. The camera he left for her. Their ashes near the bridge.

I think of a timeless love story as something that begins where the pen ends. The only reason it can be told is because you have given up understanding it. It brings out the agnostic, as much as it stirs the romantic in you. The words fade into the background as you look for signs of love - the smells, the gentle brushing of the fingers, the heavy silence in the air, the anguish of wait, the sweetness of hope. A timeless love story keeps you unfulfilled, and a little restless may be. Almost like that’s how it’s meant to be. You suspend all judgment and become a partner in the journey. There are plenty of answers, but no questions. The ending is a formality you couldn't care for. Often, you end up travelling further with the characters, creating your own versions, your own endings.

Love is the clearest at its unexplained best - a line I borrow from Rumi. And that's what makes it timeless for me.

So yes, with the predictability of a slow train between Virar and Churchgate, DDLJ didn't make it to my timeless movies list. But it did three things for mankind. Make that four. It made you want to fall in love. It made you want to travel Europe through Eurail. It made you want to celebrate Karwa Chauth. And it made you want to sit with your lover on the terrace at midnight and whisper sweet nothings. Actually make that five. It also made you want to own a cow bell. Six - if you count the number of parents who ended up naming their son Raj after the movie.

If you have a favourite timeless romance, watch it (or read it) once more before the year ends. I did that. And as I welcome 2015, I am with Franchesca and Robert, who are finally with each other, sipping brandy by the fireplace, growing old together.