Aamir Khan

urprise! Surprise! The other day I got a call from the great Woody Allen. And, guess what? He wants me to star in his next film (working title: 3.5 Idiots). The decimal half here will be played by author Chetan Bhagat. My other two co-stars will be a Manhattan streetlight which has found its way to Mumbai and switches on only when you say “Joey, light up” and a cellphone in Cuffe Parade which claims it was used by Marilyn Monroe to call the White House. Now the casting sounded fine, but I ventured to point out that the mobile was a bit out of sync. “Well, Mr Allen,” I said in my best Bollywood voice, “wasn’t the cell invented decades after Ms Monroe’s death?” The response across long distance was high pitched and agitated. “For starters, call me Woody. Mr Allen reminds me of a nightmare in which Spinoza dances with a skimpily clad Rakhi Sawant to a remixed version of Moonlight Sonata (claimed to be an original by both Anu Malik and Shantanu Moitra). That apart, coming to your query on the mobile, anything is possible in a film. Aaaamir, a big Bollywood star like you should know better.”

Well, I admit, the strangest things do happen in our movies. But leave that for a later twitter. Right then I was curious to know the storyline of the film. And, more importantly, my role in it. “Aaaamir,” said the voice at the other end, “you play a filmmaker and Chetan is a struggling young writer putting together his first novel. But he does this unwittingly under the peering gaze of Joey. So, as and when he completes a chapter, you call the streetlight using the mobile and it tells you the story thus far and you start filming. It’s fairly simple.” I was quick to acknowledge that it undoubtedly was a very original idea but what on earth would the storyline of the film within the film be? Well, Woody cleared his throat and said that it would be about three idiots (this time wannabe teenage filmmaker, scriptwriter, producer) played by yours truly, Amitabh (Paa) Bachchan and Vidhu Vinod Chopra. The trio join an institute which teaches them the art of generating controversy by publicly accusing each other of plagiarism. The high point of the film is when all three claim ownership of a Bollywood version of Kafka’s The Castle and even the copyright to the recipe of steamed rice which figures in one scene. Thankfully, after much name calling, they finally declare a truce, which is where the film ends.

“Interesting! A happy ending is always nice,” I said, but then it came to me, “...but Woody, where is the spicy stuff?” Perhaps I shouldn’t have asked because he had already factored the masala in. “My dear Aaaamir, I have signed on that ex-guv of Andhra, Tiwari N.D., and two Mumbai police officers. Every now and then, they will dance with a group of item girls,” Woody said with some professional pride. But I had one last query: who was producing the film? Woody’s answer stumped me: “Why? Chetan and Vidhu....”

(As imagined by Ajith Pillai)